That Feeling

Do you know that feeling, where everything has been chaotic or distracted or disorderly, or just not good in some way, but then something happens.  Or rather, nothing happens, there is no change, just subtle shifts that aren't really noticeable.  Everything slows down, time seems idle but the best thing  is that everything matches.  Everything seems to fall in place: to coordinate, to just be right.  Everything is where it needs to be.  And suddenly you realise how perfect everything is.  No matter how much you may have strived to achieve such cohesion, such sync-ing previously, you would never have been able to attain it.  It is not the kind of feeling that you can work towards, it is more like a moment where everything in the universe aligns, and it is just that you are there to recognise it.  Or like your breath catches and time stops for a second. You are completely at peace with yourself and everything makes sense.

I imagine a lot of people get this feeling from drugs and alcohol, or at least it is what they are striving for.  I would like to believe this: who can be blamed for trying to feel such perfection?  Drugs, sex and music - the triple combo - maybe that is all you need to feel it.  Maybe that is all you need; but it wouldn't be the same.  It wouldn't be pure.  And if you can get that feeling sober, well, what need do you have for drugs?

Boundaries

It seems that while Mexico comes to life at night, in Australia everything only becomes more intimidating, dark and lonesome; which is ironic considering how much safer Australia apparently is.  Boundaries seem more definite, more intimidating.  Seeing such (generally pointless) rigidity  makes me feel the need to rebel... But being caught out somewhere where you weren't meant to be at night would get you into a lot more trouble than during the day.  While all the signs are there during the day,  at night disobeying them may leave people jumping to conclusions about your intentions: stalker? murder? rapist? pervert?  It is like the personal and private aspect becomes so much more prominent at night than during daylight hours.  And while I am a private person myself, maybe I wouldn't have been if I was raised somewhere else.  

Apart from a certain coldness, there is an unsettling element to such strict privacy though: what are they trying to hide?  Maybe it is my misinterpretation given Australia's reputation for being a really laid back country... but the suburbs at night are definitely unwelcoming, creating a heightened sense of your own isolation, almost an absence.

Patria o Muerte

Defending Socialism

I have been thinking lately, about what it is that makes Cuba seem so jarring.  It is a very mysterious place, with a lot of seemingly inherent social contradictions.  You see some things that really make you stop and think: that is what I was waiting for!  Like when you see a 1950s car. And then other things that just seem really out of place or contradictory.

I think previously I had always focussed on the things themselves.  Like the prevalence of smoking in a country that is meant to have one of the best medical systems in the world.  But I think the main one, or what it all boils down to is politics - or social structure.  The image that I had in my mind before going to Cuba was playing chess or dominoes in the street, 1950s cars, street music, cigars, rum, mojitos on the beach and Che, obviously.  And Cuba is all those things, undoubtedly.  There life runs to a different beat to in the West, an unhurried one.  It is almost like an exotic, time-warped version of reality.  Education, music and sports seem to take more prominence, especially the latter two, than in Western cultures.  But bearing down over this more relaxed lifestyle, is the ominous presence of socialism.

We want you all to be like Che - Fidel.

Travelling around some of the most common and, for me, the most shocking hints at its presence were signs painted here and there bearing messages such as: patria o muerte (father-land or death), or socialismo o muerte (socialism or death).  What I found the most confronting about these were that they were so common place, so everyday, and passed by locals without even a blink.  So it seems that the idealised relaxed Cuban lifestyle is peppered with social and political propaganda.  I don't intend to debate the benefits of socialism versus capitalism, but rather to note the oppressive political vibes that are constantly being sent out.  Maybe that is rather an indication of the perceived threat of other ways of life encroaching on their established system.

La Calle Por La Noche

Oaxaca, in the days leading up to Día de los Muertos.  Maybe it was just my imagination, my own excitement for Día de los Muertos, but there was an energy, an electricity in the air, and particularly at night, when people would come out dressed up, or in a parade.  I remember thinking shortly after arriving in Mexico, that while it is pretty during the day, it is stunning at night.  Maybe it is because everything seems to take on a kind of mystic quality, like the borders between the real and the unreal, reality and dreams seem to blur.  There is more potential at night; greater possibilities, choices and events that would never occur during daylight hours.  This is, of course, exaggerated to a completely different scale around Día de los Muertos, when the divide between the living and the dead realms is meant to be at its weakest.  Everyone seemed to be buzzing.  Although it may have just been that my vision was distorted by my own buzzing, shaking everything, I don't really believe that.  Sitting at this food stall I could feel the excitement tugging at me, drawing me back to see what was happening around the zócalo.

What I wouldn't give to be back there now, instead of working on an essay for Uni.  Even take away the excitement of Día de los Muertos, what could be more enticing than the carelessness of walking down a deserted street late at night, drawn by the scent of frying meats and tortillas?  Like a moth to the flame, not just drawn in by the smell, but by the well-lit stall against the dark night.  The carefree days of late night tacos.

TURN BACK NOW!

I nearly laughed when I saw this sign.  It seems a decent overreaction, to have a sign for some slightly uneven paving.  I mean, if you go around marking all the bumps, who's going to pay attention when the sign says: CAUTION: CHASM ?  Could you imagine walking down your street seeing signs saying: CAUTION: STEP at the gutter, or CAUTION: SLOPE at driveways?  A bit of an exaggeration, I know, but even more ridiculous.  What if I want to choose not to exercise my caution, as an act of rebellion?

I guess it is pretty easy (and maybe slightly corny) to extrapolate this, but I feel like this is really relevant for me at this time.  Life is a constant stream of bumps, and if you spend so much time looking down and focussing on them, you're probably going to miss something big up ahead.  Where is the fun in life you are constantly worried about finding yourself off-balance?  That's when the most interesting things happen.  This is, in part an explanation for my absence here; being over-run by uni with the semester ending.  Not a very interesting excuse, but I guess I've just been putting too much energy into the bumps along the way.

Buddha Goes to the Beach

Along the malecón of Puerto Vallarta, Mexico, lie a range of sand sculptures, onsite lighting making them even the more striking at night.  I find this sculpture itself out of place in Puerto Vallarta, a highly commercialised, tourist town, hinted at in the lit up buildings in the background.  The malecón is not designed to be a peaceful walk at night alongside the incredibly detailed sculptures and statues.  Even more so than in less touristic places it springs to life at night, with a seemingly endless trail of food venders, toy and trinket sellers, and performers.

There is too much peace in the sculpture to fit.  It's also not very Mexican.  But I think the sculpture, standing taller than I, deserves my forgiveness this time.  I wish I could  keep so composed facing the constant threat of being washed away.  Maybe if I stretch my ears and grow some bonsai trees it will help.  I think I'll do that.

The Mysteries of the Korean Church

Wandering through the suburban streets, you only have to navigate a couple of corners to come across this church from my house.  It's not a very pretty church, simple red brick, although it does have some stained glass windows, it doesn't appear very remarkable at all.  The denomination in Uniting, a common Christian denomination in Australia.  What intrigues me about it though, if you look at the sign, is that it's Korean.  I also really like their minibuses with the Uniting Church insignia and Korean writing on the sides.  I have seen a couple of churches in Australia that are something like - Chinese Baptist Church - or something of the sort, and they always stick out at me, but they are still so rare. To me it seems quite bizarre, it poses many questions, but mostly: are their services normal, but just in Korean?  Is that the only difference?  I really want to attend one of their services to find out, but my conspicuousness concerns me: I don't exactly look Korean.  And really, if I went, I don't speak Korean, and even if I did, I don't know what a normal Uniting Church service is like to compare it to.  But despite all that, it is very intriguing.  Every time I walk past I find myself staring at it and wondering.  So many mysteries around this small Korean church...