| Do not use
the oven or freezer for at least a month. This will no doubt require that
you simplify your cooking pattern and complicate your shopping. Your food
will be fresher. You will buy smaller portions and cook more often. You
will waste less food. You will appreciate your freezer and long for ice
cubes and cream.
Do all your
laundry by hand and hang it on the line. (Oh, I forgot, you are American.
Well, put up a clothesline, even across the back porch if necessary). When
you first start doing this you will wear everything that you own until
you have no clean clothes. This is normal. You are allowed on this program,
one trip to the laundromat during the first month. Then you can start again.
You will quickly
learn that life is better with fewer clothes and that you really only like
about a third of the things that you own. You will also find that you can
easily wash every day the few clothes that really need washing. Your clothes
will last longer without the agitation of the machine. You will learn not
to use bleach, as it will sting your hands: it also destroys the fabric
and the ozone layer. You don’t need to be that white. If your white clothes
get too dingy, dye them blue.
If you hang
your pajamas or nightgown outside every morning, they will be remarkably
fresh.
Your standards
for cleanliness will drop radically. This is an essential for life on the
road.
Of course,
if you are currently living in an apartment, you will be crowded in the
bathroom with the clothesline across the tub. You will be complaining about
the sheets and towels. Stop it. Be grateful that you do not have to go
down to the river and pound the clothes on the stones on your hands and
knees. Appreciate what your great grandmother’s life was like. Know that
when you get where you are going, there will be someone who will wash them
for you for a pittance. After you have done it yourself, you will pay her
more.
You will
notice an impressive decline in your electric bill without the washer and
dryer. Put the money into your savings account.
Now, go through
your closets and give your extra clothes away. The aim here is to get down
to two suitcases, no more than you can carry. And, if you are anything
like me, half of one suitcase will have to be reserved for books, CDs,
and your portable stereo system. You cannot travel effectively on the quest
for paradise if you cannot carry your own bags. You’ll never get off the
gringo highway. You will be condemned to staying at Hilton Hotels. Not
what you are looking for, I am certain.
Buy anything
that you need only at thrift or second hand stores. Start offering half
of what is on the ticket to see the reaction. It takes courage to do
this but, in many countries, the art of pricing an item is a dance you
are expected to dance for hours. Otherwise, you are considered rude.
You may not
go to Wal-Mart’s, Walgreen’s, Target’s, K-Mart, Home Depot, Circuit City,
Bed Bath & Beyond or Barnes and Noble. Convenience is not one of
the perquisites of the Southern Hemisphere. You will buy half as much
and spend twice as much time doing it. Your shopping addiction will end.
You are learning how little you really need.
Pick your favorite
country and study the exchange rate. When you are shopping, multiply the
dollar price by the appropriate number. (Yes, bring your calculator,
who can multiply by 28 in their heads?) This will give you practice
in learning your new monetary system.
You will notice
a dramatic increase in your checking account. Transfer the money to your
savings account.
Step Three
– Foreign Adjustment, NeoColonialism And Racism
If you live
in a larger city, this part will be much easier. But even in small towns
now in America you will be able to do this.
Eat in foreign
restaurants, preferably genuine ones that have actual foreigners among
the clientele. Never, ever, never eat at a fast food restaurant.
Eliminate red
meat from your diet. This will save you the shock of having to buy it at
an open air market where it has been sitting in the sun all day, covered
in flies.
Buy vegetables
that you do not recognize. Buy packaged boxes of unfamiliar grains from
other countries. These will have names like cous-cous and polenta. Download
some recipes and cook (on your two burners). Add lots of salt and
butter. Try maybe adding hot sauce. Or honey. Look up the nutritional information
on the web and feel superior.
Try, if you
can, not to eat any bread. In most developing countries the art of bread
making has not evolved and will disappoint you. And you cannot make
your own because you have no oven, remember? So learn to live without.
Flour is not indigenous to the developing world. Substitute corn tortillas.
Put a map of
the world on the wall. Learn the names of all the nations in South America,
then Africa, then Asia. If you are extremely brave and very gifted and
have a modern map, you may also try for the names of the countries in the
former Soviet Union, although personally, I would find them too cold. But
this is an exercise in globalizing your mind.
Read at
least three books on the following subjects: Globalization, The World
Bank, The IMF, the Cuban Revolution, the Sandanistas, the Zapatista rebels,
the School of the Americas or the bombing of Vieques. If you are
not an avid reader, you may substitute one history book by Howard Zinn.
This is to
prepare you to hear the absolute worst about your country. It is better
to learn these things in the privacy and security of your own home than
to go out in the world unprepared and have some foreigner have to educate
you. If you skip this step, your new neighbors may give you the information
on little pieces of paper wrapped around rocks and thrown through your
window.
Practice saying
“
I am sorry that my government is so stupid. Please don’t hold it against
the American people, who are really quite generous at heart.”
Most of
the people in the rest of the world are not pink-mottled-skinned palefaces.
You will most likely be in the minority. Learn how this feels by taking
a weekend trip to either a Black or Hispanic section of any large city.
Stay in a hotel, eat at the restaurants, walk around in the streets and
feel conspicuous. Get used to it.
While you are
in that neighborhood, visit the emergency room in the local public hospital.
This last step will prepare you to not feel superior should you land in
a third world hospital. If you are planning to go to Thailand or Cuba,
which have reputed excellent health care systems, you may skip this step.
When you arrive
back home, look again at the map on your wall. Imagine how rich the former
colonial nations would be if the industrialized world had paid them a fair
price for their labor and raw materials.
Repent. Drink
a cup of strong, fair-traded coffee. Write out checks to the United
Negro College Fund and Doctors Without Borders. Mail them. Feel better.
Step Five
– Ready?
Are you
still with me? Do you still want to leave? Even if you are discouraged,
look at all the changes you have made in your life patterns without leaving
home. Look at all that money in your savings account. Look at all the time
you are spending taking good care of yourself. Think of all the oil that
you are saving.
Maybe a few
adjustments to your life were all that was needed. Or maybe you might want
to take just a short trip.
But for those
of you who are really enjoying this, bravo, you are almost ready for a
life outside America.
Ok, now
for the advanced class: disconnect your hot water for a week. Then
go to your circuit breaker and shut off all the electricity and see if
you can live without that for even 24 hours. Maybe you will have to wait
for summer for these last two steps, but do them; really, it will help
you more than fifteen guidebooks.
Now unplug
your phone. Feel how it will be to not talk to your family and friends
on a regular basis. Unless, of course, you are coming here to the Dominican
Republic where it will be just a few pesos a minute or if you manage
hi-speed internet in your new home and can use the internet phone system.
Do not flush
the toilet paper down the toilet. Use instead a wastebasket on the floor.
This will be difficult but most places are simply not equipped to handle
toilet paper. Best you should know this beforehand and adapt. After all,
I am not asking you to remove the toilet seat although that would also
be good practice.
Stop taking
all prescription medicine unless you are a diabetic. Cure yourself. You
cannot be sickly and manage this life. Nor will you find a clinic on every
corner.
If after
all this, you still want to head out to the wilds, BRAVO – you have made
it.
Take out your
money from the savings account. Sublet your apartment or house at a profit
for at least three months. You will need more money than you thought as
the dollar is plummeting. Then buy a ticket or better yet trade in some
frequent flyer miles for a ticket with a changeable return date with no
penalty.
Make sure you
have a good tenant so that you can stay for a year, at least. At the very
least.
Select and
break in three pairs of shoes. Make sure that you can walk at least two
miles in each pair. Never start a trip with new shoes.
Then carefully
pack two bags. Unpack them. Remove half the clothes. Replace them
with rechargeable batteries and charger, a pocket flashlight, six books
that you have always been meaning to read, CDs, and portable speakers for
your Walkman. Pick up your bags and see if you can actually carry them.
Adjust accordingly.
Transfer all
your addresses from your email account onto a disk. Forward your
mail and your bills to your sister along with a photocopy of your passport
and driver’s license. Leave her as well a rough itinerary, the names and
phones of any contacts that you might have, and a schedule for your check
in calls so that she will know if she has to start a search.
Accidents can
happen all over the world.
Buy a good
offshore major medical policy.
Throw a really
big goodbye party with all your friends so that you will be too embarrassed
to come home in a month.
Leave.
And – most
importantly – don’t look back. Only right in front of you. That will be
exciting enough.
The following
is the first article Elizabeth wrote for the magazine:
Elizabeth Roebling
has lived, for various times and with varying degrees of success and contentment,
in New York City, Oyster Bay, NY, Newport, RI, Asheville, NC, Belfast,
ME, Corfu, Haiti, Grenada, Puerto Rico, Guatemala, Costa Rico, Mexico,
Australia, Tahiti, Moorea, England and France. She is now on the Samana
Peninsula of the Dominican Republic and appears likely to remain there
for the foreseeable future. She can be reached at roeblingelizabeth@msn.com
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