Finding the Proof in the Pudding
Something in me wants to move to a country where I don't speak the language. While random, it's not as random as it seems. I've made a few long distance moves in my adulthood, so moving seems to be in my blood. Perhaps I'm making up for lost time because I didn't get to move around much as a child. I lived in the same house from age three until I left for grad school in Kansas, a total of nearly twenty years. Life was stable and, really, I don't think I ever thought about moving. I assumed I'd go 'away' to college, but I don't know where I planned to go after that. Maybe I dreamed of moving far away, maybe I didn't. I simply can't recall.
My parents were both transplants. My dad was from L.A. and my mom was from Michigan. They moved to San Diego for my dad's work in 1972 and then they just stayed. Well, until they divorced in the early 90s. My dad chose to remain in San Diego and my mom moved back 'home' to Michigan (she now lives in Minnesota). Every now and again job opportunities out of state would come up and I remember hearing my parents discussing them (Montana was a 'hell no' from my mom), but they always decided to stay in San Diego and in our little house in Poway.
I guess moving has always been a subconscious thing for me. When my mom was in her twenties she and a friend moved to Los Angeles from Muskegon, Michigan. They quit their jobs and packed up a VW Bug and headed down Route 66. I heard the stories from a young age and I think I tacitly understood that moving could be a very good thing - an escape and a chance to experience something new. Given my stationary upbringing, I suppose I assumed that moving was something adults did.
Needless to say, when my sister and I decided to attend grad school far away from our native California, our mom couldn't argue. We, like her, had a bit of the wanderlust. My sister eventually settled in Minnesota after graduating from the University of Wisconsin. I chose to keep moving. First to Kansas, then Michigan, then Texarkana, then Austin, then ??? It's inevitable really. Sooner or later, I'll move and I'm kind of excited about it.
I did the math a few days ago. I didn't realize it, but I've now lived in Texas longer than I lived in Michigan. It seemed like I lived in Michigan forever. I had no intention of staying but for whatever reason I hesitated to leave. For eight years and five months. It doesn't seem like I've been in Texas nearly that long, but at the end of next month I'll have been here nine years. I arrived in Texarkana, Texas on December 29, 2002. Six and a half years later, I moved to Austin.
It's crazy, really, this passage of time. When I look back, everything seems so surreal, almost dreamlike. Was that really me? Did I really do that? We've known each other how long? Time passes, some memories remain while others fade, and friendships endure or they don't. I am truly thankful for the rise of social networking because even though I'm miles away from people I was once so close to, I'm never that far away.
Because I've 'been there, done that', moving doesn't scare me. I take a broader view - what doesn't survive a move wasn't supposed to survive. This means that whether I move sixty miles to Marble Falls, Texas or several thousand to Oslo, Norway, I'll only lose what I want to lose. The people, places, things, and memories closest to my heart will remain with me forever.
So, why do I want to move far, far away this time and why to somewhere I don't speak the language? Ok... I've done the cross country thing and the cross state thing. While not easy, it's easy. Sure there are a zillion places I'd like to see in the U.S. but I feel like I want to trek abroad for awhile. It'd be a good challenge and an opportunity to learn a new culture. And incidentally, because I want an even greater challenge, a chance to learn a new language. I'm fond of saying that if I moved to a foreign country, I'd do anything and everything to learn the language. Given that the only proof is in the pudding, I need to move away and see if I can do it. And let's be honest, I'm tired of listening and talking. If I lived where I didn't speak the language, I wouldn't have to. My world would be filled with sound I wouldn't be able to understand and, as such, I could choose to ignore it. I guess it's all part of my pursuit of a quietly separate peace.
I haven't decided on a country yet. In truth, I just came to this conclusion a few days ago so I haven't been able to give it much thought. I do know I want to go somewhere with a solid economy, little political unrest, and an alphabet that closely resembles ours. Sadly, most of those countries are in Northern Europe and routinely medal in the Winter Olympics. This means that I'd be moving to the climatic equivalent of Northern Minnesota.
Fuck. Norway? Sweden? Finland? Sure, they produce damn good vodka, but it's probably snowing there today. It's going to be 62 and sunny in Austin today (and we make damn good vodka here, too). I think this is going to require a little more thought and a lot more research. Now taking applications for a stable, non-English speaking country near the equator. I guess we'll see who applies.
My parents were both transplants. My dad was from L.A. and my mom was from Michigan. They moved to San Diego for my dad's work in 1972 and then they just stayed. Well, until they divorced in the early 90s. My dad chose to remain in San Diego and my mom moved back 'home' to Michigan (she now lives in Minnesota). Every now and again job opportunities out of state would come up and I remember hearing my parents discussing them (Montana was a 'hell no' from my mom), but they always decided to stay in San Diego and in our little house in Poway.
I guess moving has always been a subconscious thing for me. When my mom was in her twenties she and a friend moved to Los Angeles from Muskegon, Michigan. They quit their jobs and packed up a VW Bug and headed down Route 66. I heard the stories from a young age and I think I tacitly understood that moving could be a very good thing - an escape and a chance to experience something new. Given my stationary upbringing, I suppose I assumed that moving was something adults did.
Needless to say, when my sister and I decided to attend grad school far away from our native California, our mom couldn't argue. We, like her, had a bit of the wanderlust. My sister eventually settled in Minnesota after graduating from the University of Wisconsin. I chose to keep moving. First to Kansas, then Michigan, then Texarkana, then Austin, then ??? It's inevitable really. Sooner or later, I'll move and I'm kind of excited about it.
I did the math a few days ago. I didn't realize it, but I've now lived in Texas longer than I lived in Michigan. It seemed like I lived in Michigan forever. I had no intention of staying but for whatever reason I hesitated to leave. For eight years and five months. It doesn't seem like I've been in Texas nearly that long, but at the end of next month I'll have been here nine years. I arrived in Texarkana, Texas on December 29, 2002. Six and a half years later, I moved to Austin.
It's crazy, really, this passage of time. When I look back, everything seems so surreal, almost dreamlike. Was that really me? Did I really do that? We've known each other how long? Time passes, some memories remain while others fade, and friendships endure or they don't. I am truly thankful for the rise of social networking because even though I'm miles away from people I was once so close to, I'm never that far away.
Because I've 'been there, done that', moving doesn't scare me. I take a broader view - what doesn't survive a move wasn't supposed to survive. This means that whether I move sixty miles to Marble Falls, Texas or several thousand to Oslo, Norway, I'll only lose what I want to lose. The people, places, things, and memories closest to my heart will remain with me forever.
So, why do I want to move far, far away this time and why to somewhere I don't speak the language? Ok... I've done the cross country thing and the cross state thing. While not easy, it's easy. Sure there are a zillion places I'd like to see in the U.S. but I feel like I want to trek abroad for awhile. It'd be a good challenge and an opportunity to learn a new culture. And incidentally, because I want an even greater challenge, a chance to learn a new language. I'm fond of saying that if I moved to a foreign country, I'd do anything and everything to learn the language. Given that the only proof is in the pudding, I need to move away and see if I can do it. And let's be honest, I'm tired of listening and talking. If I lived where I didn't speak the language, I wouldn't have to. My world would be filled with sound I wouldn't be able to understand and, as such, I could choose to ignore it. I guess it's all part of my pursuit of a quietly separate peace.
I haven't decided on a country yet. In truth, I just came to this conclusion a few days ago so I haven't been able to give it much thought. I do know I want to go somewhere with a solid economy, little political unrest, and an alphabet that closely resembles ours. Sadly, most of those countries are in Northern Europe and routinely medal in the Winter Olympics. This means that I'd be moving to the climatic equivalent of Northern Minnesota.
Fuck. Norway? Sweden? Finland? Sure, they produce damn good vodka, but it's probably snowing there today. It's going to be 62 and sunny in Austin today (and we make damn good vodka here, too). I think this is going to require a little more thought and a lot more research. Now taking applications for a stable, non-English speaking country near the equator. I guess we'll see who applies.
Comments
Post a Comment