The never-ending allure of Somewhere Else
The similes I’ve often heard applied to children are not, as it turns out, quite true. Children are neither like blank slates waiting to be written on or like clay that can be molded. From my experience in the past few months, I’d say a more apt comparison would be to that one god that sprang fully formed out of that other god’s forehead, or whatever. Which is to say, you can give them knowledge in the form of information and maybe point out new ways of using their minds, but other than that, they simply are who they are and even a toddler already seems to have as coherent a personality as many of my adult friends.
A few days ago I was sitting here at the computer beating my head against a figurative wall trying to develop a new fictional character. It was no good; I just couldn’t do it. The very act was so contrary to my nature that I finally had to admit defeat. I gave up and went into the bathroom to chase mosquitoes around.
I remember being a small child thinking that it would be really great to have imaginary friends. An only child gets very lonely, you see. So I set out to create some friends, even just one friend, and I clearly remember struggling to conjure one up. But it was no good; I just couldn’t do it. I tried many times and each effort ended in finally giving up and going outside to chase butterflies around.
What I was able to do as a child was hatch escape plans. I took great pleasure in making up elaborate schemes while pouring over maps and photo books. It made inherent sense to me that things would be different and better Somewhere Else.
I’m now in my fourth go at living abroad. Before I left, a friend tried to discourage me by offering this bit of folk wisdom – you can’t run away from yourself. There is truth in that of course, like most folk wisdom, but it sort of misses the point. I mean, you’d have to be a pretty silly person to think you could escape yourself by escaping your environment, or even that it you could create a different life in a different place.
So I’ve been wondering about my lifelong obsession with going Somewhere Else. I’m sure at least some of it results from a natural curiosity about myself and by extension, about the world. But my friend was at least partly right – embedded in my desire to travel is the desire to escape, to run away, and at the base of that might be a desire to not know the things I know. And if you don’t know the things you know, then you are not you, right? Or could it be that are you actually more you?
Somewhere Else is a place where I am not a product of my culture, my education, my family, or my social set. It is both the most lonely and least lonely place. It is where I run to myself, divested of all the things – people, places, experiences – that are mine but are not me. And this, I believe, is the never-ending allure of Somewhere Else.
Tags: Nong Khai, Thailand
sandra_101
…I thought that was Vegas.
I think the real challenge would be to find Somewhere Else in the Same Old Place. Can you somehow make yourself feel like a newcomer? To discard all the notions you have settled on over time? I’m sure it’s possible but I don’t know how to do it.
Dan – I think you’re right. And I agree that it seems possible to have freedom even in the midst of the known. Maybe the skills one learns in this way while being on the road are applicable in the Same Old Place, but this remains to be seen…
SO