Saturday, October 19, 2013
a prickly question
How does the unusual become routine?
When I first moved to Mexico, each day was filled with wonder. Much of it because everything was new to me.
I had one agreement with Mexico when I decided to retire here: I wanted to get up every morning and not know how I was going to get through the day.
Mexico lived up to its end of the bargain. But I soon started figuring out my own routines. If the water stopped running, I would use the well. If the electricity went out, I would go for a walk or go to bed.
Mexico has a way of breaking up those routines. I thought about that this week when I noticed pineapples being loaded from a tractor to a large truck. Heading off to market, I assumed.
I have driven on that highway in excess of a hundred times. Undoubtedly, the pineapple transfer has been taking place as I drove by.
For some reason, this time I stopped. Maybe it was the shape and texture of the pineapples. A great object for my new camera.
When I asked the men loading the truck if I could have their permission to take their photograph, they gave me the "weird gringo" look. The same look I would give a tourist if she asked to take my photograph while I was writing. But the guys hammed it up for my camera -- no matter the oddity of my request.
And I was correct. The texture and shape of the pineapples did make a good photograph.
I also discovered something new. If there are pineapples, there must be pineapple fields nearby. And there are. Acres of them. I had no idea they were there. Maybe I thought they were agave. Or, as Holmes repeatedly told Watson: you see, but you do not observe.
A college friend commented yesterday on Facebook: "I'm glad you're happy, just seems you'd be bored living there."
Bored is one thing I am not. Not as long as I keep my part of the bargain with Mexico. If I am going to take seriously getting up each day and not knowing how I am going to get through the day, I need to stop seeing and to start observing.
That, of course is where this blog comes in. Periodically -- like tonight as I write this -- I consider whether I want to keep writing and posting.
And then I remember the pineapples. It is because I blog that I observe and not merely see. I need to find the narrative in my surroundings -- to share it first with me, and then with you.
So, I thank all of you. It is because I can share my days with you that I keep getting up to be amazed at another day in Mexico.