I've been following a few bloggers' travel journals the past few weeks. (My favorite currently traveling person's blog for content and photos is The Other Side of the Ocean. Her blog is worth checking out for the photos alone.) Nostalgic feelings from my own travels arise as I read their stories. I find myself missing the experiences they brought, including some poignant interactions with locals. I don't think I'm the only person who romanticizes the native citizen on foreign soil. It's common to hear, "The people are so warm and helpful there," or "they were friendly and beautiful people." It's less common to hear the opposite. "Those people SUCKED."
Oakland's Lake Merritt is a whopping 3 blocks from my apartment. Half way to the lake is a relatively new community park called Splash Pad Park. I won't comment on the cheesy name. (Ha!) Saturday mornings around 7 or 8 a.m. on my way to the lake, I walk by the park and the natives setting up for farmer's market. There is a nice busy early morning energy. People are bundled up, drinking coffee, setting up folding tables and tents, unloading ice boxes, food crates, and hanging up their shingles.
Yesterday, though, was different. I was experiencing everything as a traveller. People's faces sparkled, and they seemed even more friendly than normal. Most gave me an early morning nod of the head, a few even said, "Nice gams." No, I mean they said, "Good morning!" The feeling of being a traveler in my own hometown stayed with me as I walked the 4 miles around the lake. I am an observant person who soaks in even the most minute, trivial details of trivial things, and yet I was seeing many things for the first time. I had the feeling, too, that if I stopped any person on my walk and asked them where their favorite café was, and how to get there--like I sometimes do when I am in not-my-hometown--they would tell me, and ask me to join them for a spot of tea.
Traveling is a wonderful experience. (I set out on a little adventure, in fact, on Tuesday.) But, I've decided to be a daily traveller in my own hometown, because the native people here are as wonderful as the local people there.
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Here and there and everywhere in between.
That's where I'll be.
Here is where I am.
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*Thanks, R, for pointing out that this is also a Beatles song. Cool!
7 comments:
Great insights JR, as always. :-)
p.s. Travel to Dallas sometime!
I like going to that little farmer's market day by the lake, too, though I--ahem--usually get there a little bit later than you do. The first few times I went, I really did feel like a stranger, because there is a sense of community there, and the vendors all know each other and such. Now there's a guy I get pita bread from a coupla times a month, and a woman from whom I get granola. I have started feeling a little bit more like it's a hometown sorta thing, but still mostly feel like a tourist there.
It's great that you can maneuver around how you feel about the place you live, tweak it and play with it and make it new each time, at least, when you want to.
Hey Tarty... come on back over! I have completed a post & U R in it ... so is UR little duck friend. ; )
I have been acting like a tourista in Dallas myself ... so fun.
Smooch,
The Tart
; )
Willie: Thank you, and I think I will!
Jeff: Welcome, neighbor! The people do seem especially friendly in our little neighborhood. Today I was in Starbucks on Lakeshore... (Oh, this needs to be a post.)
:)
Jocelyn: Cool! Thanks for including me in your wonderful blog. I feel special in a tarty sort of way!
JR ... guess what, I am sitting 10 feet fm Luke Wilson at a Starbucks .... no kidding. WOW! He is with a chick, ; (
Just had to tell ya ... small world!
Big celebrity smooch,
The stunned Tart
; )
Who says "gams" anymore?
Jocelyn: I hope you say something to him even if he is with a chick! How about, "Nice gams, Luke."
OM: I don't think anybody says "gams" anymore. Certainly not me!
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