Das ist the title of a trashy-looking German novel I saw lying around in a guest house a while back.
Well, I too am alone with the angst here in Bangkok. L. has returned to Germany, and I am temporarily camera-less. (I dropped my Kodak P880 off to get repaired and won’t have it for a week or so–it was functional but the lens was stuck in one position after the big moto crash.)
What to say about L.? It’s hard to describe, and still hard to believe, how intensely our paths collided and converged, how much we experienced together over such a short time. As she wrote to me when she got home, it’s like sharing a secret that neither of us can ever fully explain.
What to say? It was beautiful, perhaps all the more because it had to end almost as quickly as it started–a deadline loomed, a time and date, a flight to catch, a life to go back to. If anything shines a spotlight on the transience of this life, it is traveling. People crash in and leave, places come and go, all appear and dissolve in your mind like a dream. She was here and now she is gone. After L. left, I started reading The Snow Leopard, Peter Matthiesen’s great account of his trek through the Himalayas in search of the elusive mountain cat. I paused on a bit from an old Buddhist scripture he quotes:
The meeting and parting of living things is as when clouds having come together drift apart again, or as when leaves are parted from the trees. There is nothing we may call our own in a union that is but a dream. . . .
(Of course, I quickly underlined the passage and scribbled “Yes! So true!!” in the margin.)
But underneath the pangs of missing L., I’ve noticed something else: a strange sort of equanimity, strange in the sense of being unfamiliar. Throughout much of this trip I’ve found myself incredibly engaged but also able to be more detached than I usually feel, a calm(er) observer of my own experiences and emotions. It is a survival mechanism, I think, a necessary function of travel (as well as one of getting older, annoying as that is to say . . .) There is so much flux, so much movement, so much displacement that it is impossible to try to hold on too tightly. (How to apply this state to not-traveling, when seeing the same things day after day can cast the very powerful illusion that nothing is changing; this is a question on my mind.)
What to say. It’s funny. When I first started hanging out with L., I wanted to be like a scientist to my own feelings. I had been writing notes to myself about what traveling alone felt like, and suddenly I had an opportunity to experience things with someone else, as part of an instant “couple.” And I realized you can look behind the curtain and make note of the mental alchemy that romance performs–this thing that transmutes lights on a river or a train ride at night into some glorious backdrop that exists just for the two of you. You can notice it and be aware that it’s happening, but the funny thing is it still happens anyway and it still sweeps you away.
And so I was. Swept away. Goodbye L., it was incredible.
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April 17, 2007 at 6:19 pm
Susan
Tom-
I can relate to the intensity of travel and connections not from recent days but from long, long ago. Recent trips just don’t measure up, but maybe I can work on making more of business trips–or maybe just of staying home.
I just went to the Texas library Association meeting, which meant I flew into Memphis, San Antonio, Atlanta, and New York. Seeing what people do to places makes me despise them–there is some relief in seeing a few wild places and the meandering Mississippi–but all those cul-de-sacs and shopping centers make me feel like wretching. I generally like people more once I’m on the ground–not all the time and certainly not all of them. What is your general feeling about people and their impact on nature/the earth with all your experiences?
April 19, 2007 at 8:24 pm
Alana
Yes! So true!!
April 25, 2007 at 1:57 pm
Thomas
Hi Susan–I’ve been putting off answering your question because I want to have something smart & well-informed to say. I’m realizing this may never happen, though, so I’ll just say that the subject I’ve thought a lot about, and it really covers a pretty wide range of feelings/experiences.
Overdevelopment has had an obvious effect on Thailand. The pollution, garbage, and traffic in Bangkok can be overwhelming. In some of the tourist beach areas, you can only shake your head–it’s both funny, catering to every cheesy notion of the “romantic tropical paradise”, and sad, causing serious damage to the coral reefs & ecosystem. I know that industrial pollution has seriously impacted fishing on the Mekong and in other rivers in Thailand. This looks like an excellent book on the subject.
There are also still many unspoiled regions in Southeast Asia that were incredible to visit; parts of Laos could use more tourism. And there seems to be greater consciousness these days of building ecologically sustainable tourism in less-developed regions.
Still, you can’t help being somewhat conflicted about tourism’s impact; it brings money to very poor people, but at a variable cost to their environment and their way of life. Some of the most depressing places I’ve visited are the traditional hill tribe villages that are little more than souvenir stop-offs and begging stations. The kids I’ve seen in a couple of these places–around Chiang Mai, and near Luang Prabang–were joyless little zombies, asking for money in the flattest, saddest affect. And of course, in observing all this, you realize you’re leaving your footprint too, just like the other tourists.
An interesting observation is that much of the air pollution that had been covering northern Thailand and much of Laos was actually caused by the traditional farming practices of native people, the slash-and-burn technique. Though I don’t know if their burning could have caused that much haze and pollution. Anyway, here’s an interesting post on the subject from a great blog about Laos.
April 25, 2007 at 2:08 pm
Thomas
Also: I know what you’re saying about all the shopping centers. But there have been a few times when walking into a big, super-clean and super air-conditioned mall in Thailand has almost brought tears of relief and joy to my eyes.