Kindness of Strangers

Thursday, December 11, 2008

I realized today, in a panic, that one of my prescriptions would run out a month early, and I needed to place a call to my local Walgreen’s pharmacy to sort things out. (In the end, this will mean that a friend will need to pick it up at the pharmacy, mail it to my mother-in-law in Laredo, Texas, which will then be airmailed to San Miguel de Allende, Mexico, where it will then be hand-delivered to me when said mother-in-law meets us is in Bolivia in February.) I hadn’t made a phone call to New Mexico since September, when we were in Jordan and needed to request our absentee ballots in the dead of the night, given the time zone change. I was greeted by a county clerk with that distinct Northern New Mexican accent, and I wanted to exclaim, “Guess where I’m at? I’m in Amman!” This phone call felt big to me – I had made special arrangements to place the call – but to the county clerk I was just another caller. It seemed strange to be having such an ordinary conversation when the listener didn’t know how far away I was.

Today I trekked to the local Internet cafe, a run-down place with a mammoth flat-panel monitor that screams ADD compilations of music videos from the 1980s that I’ve never even seen (Phil Collins is especially popular). I bellied up to a computer and placed the headphones on my ears to make my call through Skype, a Web-based program that allows us to call the US for two cents per minute. I was walked through a phone tree and promptly placed on hold (I was disappointed to learn that there was no special bypass code for international calls). It was then that the strains of a familiar song blasted through my eardrums. At first I couldn’t place it, but slowly it sank in. It was I Saw Mama Kissing Santa Claus — you know, the Michael Jackson version, back when he was a cute little kid? It was so out of context that at first I didn’t recognize this most popular of Christmas ditties. Then I couldn’t figure out why the song was playing now. I was completely disoriented; it was the auditory equivalent of being blindfolded and turned around for a game of Pin the Tail on the Donkey. It suddenly dawned on me that Christmas is just days away. Except for the lone Christmas tree in the courtyard of the Chilean Aramada’s headquarters on Easter Island, a strange looking pine tree that I’ve only seen near beaches, there have been few signs of Christmas. Calling the United States from one of the most remote corners of the globe, to do something as mundane as placing a prescription refill, just felt unreal. I realized how out of touch and disconnected I am from what is going on back at home – even something as all-encompassing as Christmas.

This overwhelming feeling of disorientation probably explains the dreams I’ve been having lately. Since I arrived on Easter Island I’ve been treated to nighttime dramas that would make an LSD addict proud. Most of them involve Maikael and I making an unexpected trip home to pay visits to friends. We show up on doorsteps, expecting to be welcomed with open arms, but find our hosts wholly unprepared to receive us. The Island is known for having some intense energy, and I figured that my dreams were probably a product of Rapa Nui’s ancestors worming their way into my brain. As interesting as that sounds, I think it probably has more to do with my own insecurities about returning home; as we enter the last phase of this trip, I’m sure my subconscious is working overtime. In one of the dreams President-elect Obama was giving a televised speech on the television that played constantly in the background, undoubtedly a symbol of change in the dream. This trip has changed me, and I know my life will be different when I return; I think I’m afraid that I won’t “fit” into that life anymore, that the space that once contained me has been filled in and there will no longer be “room” for me. In another dream food was served, and our unexpected visit meant there wasn’t enough to go around. Perhaps I fear that my life back home won’t “nourish” me? Whatever the reason, it’s clear I’m feeling out of sorts with my place in the world these days. Despite the fact that we are the closest to home that we’ve been since we left last July – we are practically due south of Albuquerque at this moment – that life couldn’t feel farther away.