The Mind And The Body Vacation Separately
I know that I am repeating myself, but I’m sorry for the delay in posting. I’m always torn between posting a full report, a condensed version or a list of highlights. From now on, I will try to stick to just highlights, if for no other reason than to entice a few people to buy a book that will probably never get published.
It’s often said that a change is as good as a rest. It’s the only explanation for why we continue to go on holiday because, change aside, there is absolutely nothing restful about a vacation. Your everyday worries, like work, commuting, problem neighbors or the lawn may disappear for a few weeks but they are immediately replaced by an entire new set of challenges to both your mental and physical well being.
If you’re adventurous enough to decide on travel overseas, you may find that your first and every thought of the day centers on the sudden new quirks of your digestive system. I personally thought that, at my age, I was completely familiar with all of my bodily functions but I was wrong. Apparently my body bought into that whole theory about change and went for it with a vengeance.
There is usually a grace period of several days while the body considers it’s options and during this time Viet Nam was a phenomenal experience. The weather was pleasantly warm and the people were extremely friendly, even the ones who weren’t trying to sell me something. I would sit every morning at a sidewalk café in Saigon, drinking the best coffee I have ever tasted, and pondering a seemingly unsolvable puzzle: How the hell do I cross the street?
That may sound like an overstatement in a poor attempt at humor, but it is a serious subject that just happens to be amusing, providing it’s not you who’s risking life and limb. Saigon is the city of the motor-scooter. Whole families and their livestock can make do with one, usually all at the same time, and every one of them start their morning with several large glasses of that great coffee I mentioned. Did I mention it’s got the kick of espresso? Your vacation videos of Saigon will need to be viewed in slow motion because the entire city already runs at a fast forward pace.
Several young American backpackers just off the bus approached me one night and asked me where they could find the cheap hotels listed in their guidebooks. Since I’d had a day to acclimate and wander the less dangerous back streets, I sent them off with a couple of recommendations. Only someone who’s been lost in a foreign city can imagine the looks of relief on their faces.
They stood at the curb for a while and apparently drew straws. The loser sheepishly made her way back to me: a twenty-something, cute, cheerleader-type who I’m sure is the center of her own little world back home and never lacks for confidence. Here, however, she was reduced to something like a small child, blushing and kicking at the ground. “How do we cross the street?” she mumbled in a six year old’s voice. Saigon can be humbling. All I could do was shrug my shoulders and raise my hands to the sky in a helpless gesture. “You’re on your own there.” Poor girl had mistaken age for wisdom.
After much observation I figured it out. You can’t wait for a break in traffic. You would grow old and possibly die first. Drivers are very adept at weaving and dodging each other so you just have to put your faith in their driving abilities. The only way to cross the street is to make a leap of faith (faith in maniacal bike riders) and step off the curb. Those of the Roman faith may want to cross themselves first or, as I later described to a very confused and younger group of students who had never heard of Monty Python, “Spectacles, testacales, wallet, watch.”
The process goes something like this: 1. Say whatever plea to whatever deity you feel most comfortable with. 2. Step off of the curb and proceed slowly across the street. The key is to proceed slowly. There will never be a natural gap for you to rush through. You must have faith in the ability of 1,000 maniacs to skillfully avoid hitting you, if for no other reason than that it would slow them down. This puzzle solved, I’m happy to say that I was never injured and only once bumped, that as a result of me trying to avoid being hit instead of letting him avoid hitting me. Let’s face it; they’re a hell of a lot better at it than you or I will ever be.
Having solved Saigon’s biggest challenge to foreigners, my body decided that we had had enough time to acclimate and decided upon which form of rest (change) it thought would be most interesting. This is when I was reminded that our minds and our bodies quite often do not agree.
There are cultures where belching is often taken for a compliment on the quality of the food, the highest honor that one can pay to one’s host. Southeast Asia is not one of these. You would need to stand at the front of your church, scratch your testicles and then sniff your hand to receive looks anywhere near as damning as you get for belching in Viet Nam. Of course, as payback for many years of neglect to my body’s needs, it now decided to choose this form of recreation.
At first it seemed a non-threatening sort of diversion. If I drink a little soda and sit outside for a while everything will be fine, right? No. Alright, I’ll eat and drink less, maybe munch on a few Rolaids. No. Last resort: I’ll fast for a day and purge the system. Sadly, no. Apparently my body enjoyed this sort of change and could not be dissuaded. I was to spend almost one month continuously belching, at a rate of no less than one “Animal House” quality burp every five minutes, and that being on a low-key day.
Simply said, not a good way to start a long-awaited vacation.
It’s often said that a change is as good as a rest. It’s the only explanation for why we continue to go on holiday because, change aside, there is absolutely nothing restful about a vacation. Your everyday worries, like work, commuting, problem neighbors or the lawn may disappear for a few weeks but they are immediately replaced by an entire new set of challenges to both your mental and physical well being.
If you’re adventurous enough to decide on travel overseas, you may find that your first and every thought of the day centers on the sudden new quirks of your digestive system. I personally thought that, at my age, I was completely familiar with all of my bodily functions but I was wrong. Apparently my body bought into that whole theory about change and went for it with a vengeance.
There is usually a grace period of several days while the body considers it’s options and during this time Viet Nam was a phenomenal experience. The weather was pleasantly warm and the people were extremely friendly, even the ones who weren’t trying to sell me something. I would sit every morning at a sidewalk café in Saigon, drinking the best coffee I have ever tasted, and pondering a seemingly unsolvable puzzle: How the hell do I cross the street?
That may sound like an overstatement in a poor attempt at humor, but it is a serious subject that just happens to be amusing, providing it’s not you who’s risking life and limb. Saigon is the city of the motor-scooter. Whole families and their livestock can make do with one, usually all at the same time, and every one of them start their morning with several large glasses of that great coffee I mentioned. Did I mention it’s got the kick of espresso? Your vacation videos of Saigon will need to be viewed in slow motion because the entire city already runs at a fast forward pace.
Several young American backpackers just off the bus approached me one night and asked me where they could find the cheap hotels listed in their guidebooks. Since I’d had a day to acclimate and wander the less dangerous back streets, I sent them off with a couple of recommendations. Only someone who’s been lost in a foreign city can imagine the looks of relief on their faces.
They stood at the curb for a while and apparently drew straws. The loser sheepishly made her way back to me: a twenty-something, cute, cheerleader-type who I’m sure is the center of her own little world back home and never lacks for confidence. Here, however, she was reduced to something like a small child, blushing and kicking at the ground. “How do we cross the street?” she mumbled in a six year old’s voice. Saigon can be humbling. All I could do was shrug my shoulders and raise my hands to the sky in a helpless gesture. “You’re on your own there.” Poor girl had mistaken age for wisdom.
After much observation I figured it out. You can’t wait for a break in traffic. You would grow old and possibly die first. Drivers are very adept at weaving and dodging each other so you just have to put your faith in their driving abilities. The only way to cross the street is to make a leap of faith (faith in maniacal bike riders) and step off the curb. Those of the Roman faith may want to cross themselves first or, as I later described to a very confused and younger group of students who had never heard of Monty Python, “Spectacles, testacales, wallet, watch.”
The process goes something like this: 1. Say whatever plea to whatever deity you feel most comfortable with. 2. Step off of the curb and proceed slowly across the street. The key is to proceed slowly. There will never be a natural gap for you to rush through. You must have faith in the ability of 1,000 maniacs to skillfully avoid hitting you, if for no other reason than that it would slow them down. This puzzle solved, I’m happy to say that I was never injured and only once bumped, that as a result of me trying to avoid being hit instead of letting him avoid hitting me. Let’s face it; they’re a hell of a lot better at it than you or I will ever be.
Having solved Saigon’s biggest challenge to foreigners, my body decided that we had had enough time to acclimate and decided upon which form of rest (change) it thought would be most interesting. This is when I was reminded that our minds and our bodies quite often do not agree.
There are cultures where belching is often taken for a compliment on the quality of the food, the highest honor that one can pay to one’s host. Southeast Asia is not one of these. You would need to stand at the front of your church, scratch your testicles and then sniff your hand to receive looks anywhere near as damning as you get for belching in Viet Nam. Of course, as payback for many years of neglect to my body’s needs, it now decided to choose this form of recreation.
At first it seemed a non-threatening sort of diversion. If I drink a little soda and sit outside for a while everything will be fine, right? No. Alright, I’ll eat and drink less, maybe munch on a few Rolaids. No. Last resort: I’ll fast for a day and purge the system. Sadly, no. Apparently my body enjoyed this sort of change and could not be dissuaded. I was to spend almost one month continuously belching, at a rate of no less than one “Animal House” quality burp every five minutes, and that being on a low-key day.
Simply said, not a good way to start a long-awaited vacation.
