MONICA TAN

Archive for April, 2009

You’ve never seen me like this (and probably never will again)

In blog on April 12, 2009 at 7:58 pm

Midway on a 25km trek. Seven hours of scrambling up and down rocky mountain faces as the rain came down non-stop. And after all that the main attraction was shrouded in clouds. I nursed aches and pains for two days later. Safe to say an experience I'll never forget!

Adventure Girl

Last night over a bottle of wine a few fellow backpackers and I shared stories in the common area of our hostel. Two, in particular, struck me.

The young New Yorker told me of a forty-something traveler who had seen much of the world on the back of a motorcycle. Whenever he ran out of money he would work for three or four years as a physics teacher in an international school; he’d done so in Papau New Gineau, Switzerland and New Zealand.

The young New Yorker, though impressed, confessed he didn’t really like the man. When I pushed for reasons he replied, simply, “he wasn’t a very nice guy.” Firstly, he was derogatory to the “shitty kids” he taught (one can’t help but feel for the kids who get this dude as their teacher). Secondly, he was a bit sleazy. Thirdly, there was an arrogance about him that was evident when he bragged about his exploits – conscious of how impressive his tales of travels were.

And lastly, in more general terms, he seemed selfish. He didn’t care about anyone. He didn’t have anyone. The only person he thought about satisfying was himself.

This led the blue-eyed Swiss girl to tell us of a gutsy, nineteen-year-old woman she had met in her previous hostel. The teenager had spent three months living with a cannibal tribe in the wilderness of Papau New Guinea.

At some point she asked some local seamen to drop her off on an island. She drew in the sand four suns and moons, in an attempt to ask that they pick her up in four days. After four days, with food and water supplies dwindling, the boat didn’t show up. On day six there was a storm, and still no boat.

She twisted together palm fronds in order to catch rainwater. Previously someone had shown her how to climb coconut trees – now was a good a time as any to try those skills out. Up she’d go, and clunk, she’d fall before she could reach the top. Again and again she would try.

Eventually a boat passed by, and she yelled and jumped up and down, waving. Lucky for her she was rescued.

When she returned to civilisation she found the experience so overwhelming she checked herself into a 10 day silent meditation camp in order to calm down. Now she was here in Argentina, and with rented boots, walking through snow for the first time. She was delighted by the experience.

I was weirdly moved by the story of this young woman, but also somewhat disapproving. “That was incredibly irresponsible!” was my initial reaction to the tale of the island troubles.

Sure, half of me was deeply impressed by the girl’s chutzpah, and willingness to throw herself into the deep end. She was experiencing an authenticity most backpackers can only dream of – and will only ever dream of. These days all paths are too well carved to be anything but safe, santised, that dreaded word “touristy”. Yet here she was, in the midst of a honest to god adventure.

But the other half of me found her behaviour to be reckless, naive and almost arrogant. “It’s so typical for a middle-class, young Westerner to think the world is their playground, and they can just go in, invincible, do as they please and come out unharmed.” The teenager reminded me a lot of Christopher McCandless from Into The Wild. He too rejected society, and entered the wilderness with little knowledge – and therefore, in my opinion, little respect – with devastating results.

“Ah, but she’s Mexican!” the Swiss girl countered, “not from the West!”

OK. But clearly she’s a pretty well off Mexican if she has no responsibilities to her family, or community, and can instead jet set around the world, doing as she pleases. (The Swiss went on to say her father was dead, and her mother was a painter.)

Earlier in March I met a guy at my Spanish school – a young, nineteen year old American from Tennessee. One evening at a group dinner he said he was jealous of homeless people because “they only have to think of themselves.” Although crudely said, I think what he was trying to articulate was that there is something seductive about that solitary, nomadic life. For some, living in a society with all the complications, expectations and responsibilities that entails, is just too much to handle. And some would argue, distracts one from the true essence of being alive.

But I wouldn’t agree with those people. I think the essence of life is born out of our relationships with one another. Being a part of something. Feeling like you’re important to others, and that you’re making a useful contribution. Real, lasting happiness, the kind of contentment that has longevity, comes from when you do something for someone else, not for yourself. And whether that’s for people you know in real life – your friends, family and co-workers – or in a more abstract way the people we are connected to through markets, nations, communities, scenes and so on.

So when it came down to it, I wasn’t that impressed by this young woman. I am impressed by stories of real connection. And real connection requires time, hard work and love. Had the teenager decided to stay in PNG, living and working as part of the tribe, learning the language, making friends, falling in love, contributing to the life of the community, over the course of a decade … that would have truly impressed me.

But of course, she is nineteen; still footloose, and wide-eyed (and it seems wonderfully crazy). Let’s just hope that she doesn’t become the man in the first story – or die in the process.

I am going to fall in love this month

In blog on April 9, 2009 at 5:56 pm

Earlier in the day ...

How do I know this? Because I have hit the road, traveling Argentina for the month of April. And backpacking is a bit like speed dating – you meet a lot of people in a short amount of time.

On Tuesday, my first evening of the trip, I met a stunning, young German guy at my hostel. He looked a bit like this.

I half considered an offer to join his group on a five day camping and trekking expedition in Southern Chile. But the likely reality -

Me unfit and incompetent at surviving in the wilderness. He gay/ taken/ gay and taken.

- that impelled me to defer, hasn’t prevented me from fantasising about the possible parallel-world-me -

Me super incredible, sexy outdoorsy Adventure Girl. He falls desperately and unconditionally in love with me.

I am currently writing this post in a diary as I sit in a bookstore cafe in El Chalten. There are two incredibly good-looking Argentine guys working here. There is one with serious, beautiful blue-green eyes, that I am particularly fond of. He makes me want to stay and look at him forever.

I am going to leave a message for him in my empty teapot: “TU ES MUY LINDO.” (“You are very beautiful.”) (And I did.) (Edit: SHIT, I think it should have been “VOS SOS MUY LINDO.”)

I love how this world is filled with gorgeous creatures like him! I wish I had a little GPS which kept tabs on all of them; little blue dots appearing on a map, telling me where to find each, instead of becoming lost to time.

I can’t wait to fall in love with one of them.

Update: No it didn’t happen. And I pretty much forgot about thinking it might the day after this. – 26/06/09

How can you be HARDCORE in Spanish?

In blog on April 8, 2009 at 9:37 am

A few weeks ago I was obsessed with finding the translation for “that’s hardcore!” in Spanish. I would ask every new Spanish speaking person I met. It felt important to me because it’s something I’d say in English, so how I could be myself in Spanish unless I knew how to say it?

The closest I came was “!hostia! !que fuerte!” – a phrase that’s not really spoken outside of Spain, and kind of means, “that’s some heavy shit.”

It’s not really a direct translation, and I’ve given up in finding one. Most of the people I asked would tell me there isn’t really a way to say “that’s hardcore!” in Spanish, which happens sometimes. At first I didn’t believe them. I mean what happens when a Spanish-speaking person sees something really intense, how do they express that feeling?

Well as Kylie explained, they don’t feel the exact same thing, although they might feel something close to.

Many people talk about how they almost become a different person in another language, or different aspect of their personality shines through. Perhaps in one you’re more flirtatious, in another more serious, in another more individualistic. And language provides cues to how a culture expects you to behave.

Life hasn’t been very hardcore here. I have many of the things I have in Sydney; sunshine, cafe culture, films, bookstores, nightclubs, restaurants … and friends to enjoy these things with. And that’s made for a very pleasant two months.

There’s only one aspect in which I would like to turn up the “hardcore dial”; and that is speaking Spanish. I don’t seem to do that much of it. I know some basic Spanish to see me through the day when it comes to purchasing things, but otherwise, with everyone I’m hanging out with, it’s just hours and hours of conversation in English.

There are things I can do to rectify this – things that I’m going to do. Because learning Spanish is very important to me. It is the main reason I’m here. And not only is it important to me, I enjoy it! I have begun to like practising it, and working on it, like one would work on any hobby, craft or sport. And my good exam marks was a little confidence booster – a reminder that I can be good at this, if I put in the hard work.