What I Noticed - Part IV: Reflections Two Years After Leaving the States
Two years after emigrating from the US to Ireland, I am weary of comparing. I am especially weary of evaluating—which is better?
My book tour to the US last month began with two questions: What’s the biggest difference between the US and Ireland; and what would you bring from the US to Ireland if you could?
Those questions set me up to evaluate. But I am weary of evaluating.
I decided to do something else instead. I decided to notice.
Just notice. Well, the contrast between here and there makes it easier to notice. What is familiar can become overlooked. Nevertheless, without evaluating, what did I notice when I was in the US?
Sight: orange and brown. I was in central Oregon. West of the Cascade mountains has weather like Ireland. But east is high desert, very little rain, even when not in drought.
I like orange and brown. Those are my colors. They make me feel at home.
Life is more subtle in the desert, fewer animals, less vegetation. But they are there. They are hardy, resilient. They are my kin.
Smell: Ponderosa pine trees smell like vanilla. Or maple—depending on the nose. In the winter, you have to put your nose right up against the tree on the south side where the sun heats the bark and inhale deeply. In a heatwave, you need only stand near them to think of pancakes.
I took this photo during a hike. And no, I didn’t smell vanilla or maple. The scent was of dust and that particular odor of scrubby brush. The smell of determination.
Sound: Birds—I didn’t hear birds. I am surrounded by birds in Ireland, but it’s quieter in central Oregon.
On the other hand, rivers are the soundtrack of my life. In one of the river videos I took on this trip, I wondered out loud how many river videos I have taken in my life. Five on this trip.
The music of rivers is that of whispers and quiet clapping and bamboo wind chimes, layered on top of each other.
Temperature: It was either blazing hot or frigid cold. Caught in a loop, we are. The more energy we expend cooling our houses and stores, the more we contribute to this upward climb.
Taste: If you have been following me, you already know that I traveled through the land, searching out Mexican food. Here is one photo I haven’t shared yet:
Oh yes. Thank you, Herlinda.
I claimed that Ireland doesn’t have Mexican food, probably because it doesn’t have Mexicans. Since returning, I have seen “chicken enchiladas” on menus. With cheddar cheese and red salsa. This what I am talking about. That is not a chicken enchilada.
But I live on the Dingle peninsula. In the interest of responsible journalism, I did a search for “Mexican food in Dublin,” and found Pickosito Northern Mexican Taqueria. My wife lived in Sonora for a year. So when it says “norte,” she is sold. Enmoladas, barbados, pozole—they even make their own tortillas. Seriously?!
We will be in Dublin next month, and I am going for the chilaquiles. I will report back.
Space: When I was learning to drive in Ireland, I had no difficulty with the right side of the road. What nobody warned me about was how narrow the roads are. My driving instructor would get quite irritated with me, because every time a car approached from the other direction, I tapped the brakes and swerved to the side.
But in the US—what do you guys need with so much room? I drove down a city street with no markings. I knew I was supposed to be on the left. But where on the left? I was swimming on open asphalt.
The space issue is a subset of the general principle of BIG. Everything in the US is BIG. The supermarkets are exhausting. I could get my day’s steps just walking across the parking lot and through the aisles. The choices—no wonder people in the US are so cranky. They spend so much energy deciding on what kind of salad dressing and which brand.
The quantities—I asked my host whether she had walnuts. She walked into the pantry—yes, a walk-in pantry—searched through the depths of the shelves, and came up with a plastic container bigger than our milk jugs in Ireland. It was half empty, and I knew before I opened it that I would not be eating walnuts that morning. Stale. It was a restaurant supply store quantity of walnuts purchased for two people who don’t usually eat walnuts.
People: The people were lovely. Yes, they are angry and frustrated. But they are also generous and helpful. And there are all these quirky delights around every corner. The local food shop put up a statue of Sasquatch outside by the lunch tables so tourists could take a picture standing next to the local legend.
When I was wandering through the airport in Chicago, a man asked if I needed directions. I didn’t really. But how could I object when he told me, “Go down this way until you get to the dinosaur and turn left.”
So that was my summer vacation, spent noticing. Another way of putting it would be three weeks of mindfulness practice. It was a lot of fun. I commend it to you.
Have you ever done that, spent a vacation, or even for a day, not evaluating but simply noticing? What did you notice?