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Trip Start Jun 11, 2005 Previous
Entry Trip End Sep 01, 2005

  Austin, Texas
Wednesday, September 14, 2005

I've waited so long to post because I've been thinking. I've also been reveling in Americana by eating, drinking and sleeping. But also thinking. I don't have a single, heart-wrenching story like the little puppet seller in Peru that can lead me to an important realization. So I've been trying to wrap my head around this entire experience. While it's not as obvious as it was the first couple of times I left the country, every trip changes me somehow. I'm altered by these places and people and experiences. I just have to figure out how. And writing it down and trying to articulate it to all of you is a helpful tool.

One of the easiest ways to see the differences between two places is to think about what you miss while being away from home. What do you wish you had brought with you? What are you eager to return to?

The most obvious thing you leave at home is convenience, and you can't pack it up and take it with you. America is the most convenient place on the planet. And maybe this isn't true in every respect, but it's easy for Americans to understand how unique our situation is.

Por ejemplo: In the U.S., no matter what hour of the day or night, someone is selling what you need or crave. There's always a 7-11 around the corner. Or a 24-hour Wal-Mart. Or Taco Cabana, or Whataburger, or even Kinkos. Gas, hot dogs, pillow cases, movies, TVs, electric tape, greeting cards, super nachos, fajitas, a double bacon cheeseburger, a shake, copies, a coffee mug with your picture on it. Anything is available. You may have to drive a little, but it's yours. But when in Italy or Peru or Mexico or wherever, this is definitely not the case. It could be 5:45 p.m. on a Saturday and if you don't get to the grocery store before 6, you may not eat until Monday, because Sunday is the Sabbath. A lot of cultures haven't forgotten that particular commandment. They think it's just as important as all the other Thou Shalt Nots. They do the whole 10 pack. And the places that are actually open, they really make you pay for it.

Of course small towns are more challenging than big cities. And Mexico has definitely been invaded by the American idea of convenience and even by the companies that peddle it. But it isn't everywhere. And you are reminded of it often while abroad.

The other thing any traveler knows is not the same outside of our borders is the bathroom. The first thing I noticed when landing, other than the fact that even the Houston airport is nicer than any building in Mexico (I felt like I was deplaning at the Taj Mahal), is how exquisite the bathrooms were. There was a set of bathrooms before you even get through customs. So for first time visitors to the U.S., this may be the first room they enter in America. And it doesn't disappoint. Have you noticed how nice the bathrooms are in the U.S.? They're the nicest on the planet. Giant clean toilets with seats. Toilet paper - double ply. Automatic flushers. Hands-free sinks. Soap. Hand dryers. Couches. Shoe shiners. Mints. A guy playing the harp. Sometimes I just lie down on the cool tile and take a nap.

And the fact that our toilets are filled with potable water is insane. We live in a country where you can drink out of the toilet! I hardly ever do it, but it's nice to know it's there.

The other indicator of important differences is what you wish you could bring home. What do you hate to leave? What would you love to incorporate into your life in the U.S.?

The thing I will miss most about Mexico is how interested people are in a traveler's life. They love to tell you how well you speak Spanish, no matter how badly you butcher it. They just appreciate the effort. They want to know what you think of "their" country. They take ownership of it and pride in it. They will tell you what you should not miss, and let you in on a little secret that may not be in your guidebook. They will laugh at how hot you think the salsa is, or your little misunderstandings of things that seem so natural and simple to them. But most people, most of the time, laugh with you and not at you. This is very different from the way we often scoff at those who are unfamiliar with our customs. That interest and acceptance is very comforting. And when I am a foreigner in my own land, perhaps on a Chicago metro for the first time, I doubt people will find my ignorance charming. I doubt they will want to know what I think of "their" city. Or maybe they will. Life is full of surprises.

The one thing that travel always does, is that it allows us to be critical of our own country or city or people, yet be utterly appreciative of all that the U.S. offers, and to both love it and want to improve it at the same time. What a gift.

But Mexico confused me as well. In South and Central America, Latin Americans practically deify Christopher Columbus. I saw bus lines named after him, and plazas and museums. They erect statues of him, and I was struck by the irony of it all. These are the people who suffered at the hands of the conquering Spaniards. Yet they revere the man who opened up their land to the oppressors. Columbus is directly or indirectly responsible for the death of millions of Native Americans (check out Howard Zinn, A People's History), and yet they name cities after him and celebrate him. It's like the Jews building a statue of Hitler and living in Fuherville. It's Stockholm Syndrome on crack.

Just a thought.

The issue that one is constantly faced with in Mexico is poverty. This is not because Mexico is terribly poor. It's really not. There's a great deal of money in Mexico. It's just that the distribution isn't terribly even. Mexico, like a lot of countries, has severe class distinctions. The rich are very rich, and the poor are very poor. A relatively small portion of the population falls into what we call the middle class.

And while most of us think of Mexico as poor and second world, it is much better off than its neighbors to the south. Guatemala, Honduras, El Salvador. All of these countries are plagued with poverty. But the countries are beautiful and fabulously rich in culture. Scenery, climate, history, archaeological sites - they have it all. They are amazing and magical places to visit. And their lack of wealth makes them extremely accessible financially. The U.S. dollar goes a long way.

The story is the same in many South American countries. In Asia, Africa, & Eastern Europe. The issue that arises is that the poverty can cause the trip to be an ethical challenge. As a traveler you feel like a millionaire parading your money in front of those who desperately need it. Some travelers are carrying around thousand dollar cameras in a country where a man may not make that in a year. We haggle over items in the market in an effort not to be taken advantage of, but we're saving a few dollars that mean nothing to us and may mean everything to them.

So throughout a trip, a vague sense of guilt haunts you. At every turn you must decide which beggar deserves your change, which child your pity, and which family your help. And what really haunts you is the idea that perhaps they all do.

That feeling is the one thing we never want to take home with us. It's the thing we can always leave behind. Because once home, we can conveniently place it out of sight and out of mind. Is this because there are no poor people in America? No. It's because we hide them better.

Or even when we see them we have created the comforting idea that panhandlers on a busy intersection do very well for themselves. I hear they can make a couple thousand dollars a weekend. And we leave our hands in our pockets. And we keep walking. And we forget.

But I think a great deal of this is a sense of helplessness. We know we can't help everyone. We know there is no solution. We know that utopian idealism is naive and useless. So we let our mind wander to more manageable tasks.

But here's a thought that should give us hope.

"No problem can withstand the assault of sustained thinking."

-Voltaire

If we keep our minds from dismissing the problem out of hopelessness, if we keep working on the seemingly impossible, if we assault this problem with all that is at our disposal, then maybe there is hope.

I'm not advocating the ignorant demands of the infamous Cliff. Not everyone in the world has to make American types of wages. Our standard of living is incredibly high, so it would be unfair to use us to set the bar. The thing about income is that it's relative. The inhabitants of a country need only to make a decent wage in the context of their economy. This is a more reasonable goal. Everyone cannot be raised to the level of the American Dream, but they don't have to live in squalor either.

But when we seem the masses of people that don't have access to basic necessities such as food, water, and medicine, it seems hopeless. There are too many of them. There are too many issues. It's simply too much to deal with.

However, instead of the shoulder shrug we all want to offer to the issue, perhaps we can attack the problem of poverty with the same relentlessness we have employed to address technological challenges in the creation of planes, submarines, missiles, jet engines, planes that can carry tanks, nuclear fission, the atom bomb. We consistently do the seemingly impossible. But isn't the ending of poverty a more noble pursuit than all of the aforementioned creations? I realize that I sound naïve and like a bleeding heart. But I assure you this is not a commentary on any particular war or a particular country. What I'm commenting on is the ingenuity and resources we put into things such as the war machine. This is a blame that can be placed on almost all nations. So is it wrong to challenge all those same nations with the eradication of poverty and human suffering?

The war machine is just an example. It could be the exploration of space or whatever else we put time and money into. The issue is simply that when we deem something important and throw our effort and resources and ingenuity at it, problems are solved and obstacles overcome. We can attack poverty with the same veracity. I guess the real problem is that those who have the power to do something about it are not those who suffer from it. We are asking the people with so much to willingly redistribute their wealth and resources for no reason other than that it is the right thing to do. So this particular issue requires a level of humanitarianism that may be hard to find. It means we must love strangers enough to sacrifice for them. We must feel a kinship with those who may look, speak, dress, and act differently than we do.

So we face ethical, logistical, and financial challenges in our effort to raise the quality of life for people around the globe. But challenges are meant to be faced and conquered. It's what we do.

And for all of you who are even mildly impressed that I read Voltaire - I don't. I read that quote on a t-shirt.

But I think he's right.

-Dane Phillips

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