With my tanned skin and passable Spanish people don’t know how to peg me, only that I’m not from here. Its my eyes that especially give me away. So I dyed my hair darker and I wear sunglasses. A photographer told me I should use this to my advantage, those extra few seconds when people are trying to place me to- what? Jump right in I guess. Everyone also thinks I’m older than I am, which is disconcerting. And which Joyce suggested I use to appear more professional.
I am vibrantly satisfied with how my project is coming along, and I have more transcription than the desire to do it. This satisfaction in being able to focus so allows me to be more observant in my daily life. The lavanderia, whose laundry smells Dawn would love, their turtles in tanks, the scrawled green and silver word Sunshine that I pass everyday on my way to the Metro, how when I’m not having sex I think dancing is just as good, how taxis drive backwards for blocks down one-way streets so as to not be driving “against the law”, how people ride bikes on Saturday, the bus-drivers’ tiny son, identical to him, who solemnly collected my three pesos…
These fill my mind, and I wonder if there is so much more to notice here, or if my eyes are just more thoroughly open. How do I keep my “travel lenses” on when I’m back home? Why do we make these distinctions between travel and daily life, when nearly everyone would admit its all one massive journey and segmenting our lives is purely contrived?
I think I’ll go see the pyramids Sunday, I have the urge to be around ancient creations.
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