21 October, 2013

back on the wrong side

after a near dozen hours of sleep, i awoke to find myself here. on the wrong side of the atlantic.

the trip to brussels and amsterdam was incredible and i promise to write more. right now i'm just trying really hard to come up with a plan of action that will get me back to the right side, permanently (what?! i have €25.82 in my wallet plus a randstad regional transit card that still has, like €1.47 on it!) plus i must get these pyjamas off, regular clothes on, and school into.

best part of the trip (ok, hard to choose, but from a completely non-trourist but entirely psychocentric point of view) was that once i wept uncontrollably over one of the dakotas (who can blame me? apologies if you're from one of the dakotas. i'm sure they're not that bad), and over the atlantic (it's so BIG! and unfriendly! and wet!) and then a final time in brussels after having soundly bashed my head into a street sign (physical pain opened up the floodgates and i stood there sobbing on a public street corner, while mister monkey did his best), i stopped crying entirely. and not just crying, but even feeling like crying or any flavour of sad. oh, there was that one moment when we toured the utterly slick and gorgeous utrecht school of architecture building that i was overrun by a tidal wave of a vicious anger at north america for our terrible tendency to trade quality for quantity and wallow in a made-in-china sea of mediocrity, eating sub-par flavourless food, using poorly designed... everything, buying heaping mountains of cheap shit that falls apart in an hour, and generally living a BIG FAT life, rather than the good life we have been indoctrinated into believing we are living.

so apart from that i faced incessant rain with serene equanimity, ubiquitous homicidal cyclists with cautious respect, crowds with sharp elbows and overall remained balanced, sweetly sweetly balanced. oh, there were surges of love - love for amsterdam itself, love for maastricht, love for other gorgeous places, but otherwise i was calm, and loved every minute of it. it felt like a vacation for my brain and heart - barely a thought was spared to the devils that plague me here, at home. i didn't think, i sort of opened up my brain and let thoughts float through passively, if that makes any kind of sense (this is the best way i can explain it because that is precisely how it felt - that instead of thinking, i was being thought).

so now i'm back, hoping the calm remains in the face of the endless parking lots, single family bungalows, strip malls and overweight populace... perhaps a PhD then? might be worth a thought, no? ideas for thesis (i have one, and i shall tell you later) that deal with urban planning might be appreciated. drop one into the tithing basket on the way out. thanks!

p.s. i did miss you, my poultries, you were often on my mind!

7 comments:

Tom said...

Just a quick note to say glad you're safely home, and that you had a good time on "the right side of the Atlantic." Will comment more fully when I have re-read your post.

polish chick said...

thank you, tom! always lovely to hear from you.

Joan said...

Welcome back to Canada!

Tom said...

I read and re-read this post with great interest. It came across as an emotional roller-coaster; then as the emotional clouds rolled back, you found yourself in the presence of deep, genuine happiness. That kind of happiness can be a constant undercurrent, lying beneath the surface waves of transient feelings. And that is something worth holding onto.

It also spoke of comparisons between what you see as the long-lived worthwhile and the transient crap in life. That gift of genuine discernment is of great value.

Seems to me that the tears will come and go; the happiness will stay around.

polish chick said...

funny thing, tom, is that it felt exactly like that - the quiet parting of clouds. of course this happened before, but i think my initial instinct to work through stuff rather than upping my meds was the right one. when the clouds part, there i am.

Geneviève Goggin said...

Sounds like you experienced an amazing thing. And what's great is that it will happen again, even without crossing the ocean. Can't wait to hear more!

Zhoen said...

Perspective is a tricky thing.