Picking Up the Pieces

A very rainy afternoon in San José gives me time to write my last post from Costa Rica. The rainy season here has actually given me more time to write throughout the trip than I anticipated, actually. Anyways, I thought I would share some of the insight I have gained travelling alone the last three weeks. I think this kind of insight is worth sharing.

Today I find myself back at Hostel Pangea, which was my first stop upon arriving in Costa Rica. It feels a bit like book-ends closing a chapter in my life that I could never have written if I tried. Yesterday, I lay on the beach at Santa Teresa and listened to my ipod for pretty much the first time since I left Canada. The songs sent me on a roller coaster of memories, walking me down memory lane and the soundtrack of recent life experience. Music does that to me. I love the artistry and sound of it, but I also love the way it bring back vivid images for me. Some songs remind me of people while other songs can take me right back to a particular place and time.

I shed a few happy tears as I lay on that beach, my feet pointing towards the vast stretch of water of the Pacific Ocean. Fond memories of Kingston and my last year at Queen’s were triggered by a number of songs. I remember being in a place in my life where so much was familiar and established. Four years at the same school had created that for me – a sense of place, identity, and belonging. An open road may ahead beyond graduation, but for a time, I knew who I was (or so I thought I did!) At the same time, I was ready to move on. It makes me wonder if we are even meant to feel like we totally comfortable somewhere. Life is more interesting for me when I change my surroundings, even if it just means leaving something familiar for a short time (through travel, for instance).

When you go back to that familiar place, you re-integrate yourself back in. You bring in a bit of the old and the new, like re-trying a recipe with results hopefully better than the last batch!

Going beyond our usual comforts exposes exciting parts of ourselves that have been hidden or that lay dormant beneath years of accumulated assumptions. In the process of finding ourselves and our sense of belonging in a particular place, we adopt new qualities and shed certain parts of ourselves for the sake of fitting in. Familiarity can force us into a certain form that we assume around the people we love, at our jobs, in our community, and group of friends.

What part of you have let go of for the sake of fitting in and feeling comfortable?

The characteristics that we shed are often what set us apart from others. So, go pick up the pieces of you that you left behind! Do what you have to do to find them.

I found a gentle and quiet spirit that thirsts for solitude and peace both inside and amongst others. (Part of this is that I have rediscovered that I really am a capital ¨I¨ introvert). That part of me was always there, but now I really know that it is something I need in my life – daily. The times that I get frazzled and lose awareness of myself in the midst of situations I encounter usually arise because I have not taken the time to find stillness. I need to re-energize by going inward.

When you sense  anger arising, seek stillness. When you can’t handle the stress, seek stillness, even if it is just for 10 seconds. When you feel yourself reacting out of character, excuse yourself, and seek stillness.

By re-centering ourselves in stillness we can truly be present and authentic not just to others, but to ourselves.

© Meghan J. Ward, 2009.

La Paz y la Amistad

Step aside Oprah, Dr. Phil, and all you neo-yogic philosophers…these Ticos have definitely learned the secret to the simple and peaceful life of constant contentment.  My experience so far leads me to believe that either they have more than just coffee beans in their morning brew, or that as a people they have chosen a life of happiness.

I was reading yesterday about the history of Costa Rica, and how it was really only in the last century that this small country adopted the progressive mindset that has made it the peace-loving oasis of Central America. In the 1940s, Jose Figueres Ferrer, head of a temporary junta government, enacted nearly 1000 decrees – from taxing the wealthy to voting rights to women – and also laid the foundation for the disarmament of the national military, which still remains today. At the local level, Ticos know how to take care of each other and live in harmony. Obviously very family oriented, at times they almost seem like actors in a commercial for Disney World, walking hand-in-hand, mother, father and daughter to the pier to watch the sunset. They no doubt deal with their own difficulties in life, but they are also warm and friendly with visitors, and are proud to show off their country to those willing to travel to see it.

At times the juxtapositions are humorous, though. Sitting high up in the mountains on the edge of Parque Nacional Chirripo, I took a taxi from San Isidro down 10 km of paved roads to Rivas, and then down 12km of cobblestone roads clinging precariously against the steep slopes of the peaks blanketed in thick greenery. Just when you thought the road could go no further, it turned again, eventually revealing Albergue Uran nestled beautifully close to the trailhead that I plan on taking tomorrow morning, just outside the town of San Gerardo de Rivas. At the hostel, however, I am greeted by a local woman wearing 3-inch platform sandals, who walks her way down the cobblestone as if she was on 5-foot stilts. She is wearing capris and a tight tanktop, and obviously put a lot of time into her make-up. No matter where you go, the women are dressed to the nines, even if they have to swing on vines to get to work. They are all beautiful people with so much to give.

In 1502, when Christopher Columbus landed on the eastern coast of the country to make repairs to his ship, he ventured inland and made exchanges with the local people. When he returned from the encounter, he claimed to have seen more gold in two days than in his four years in Espanola. Hence, the name Costa Rica, or the Rich Coast, came to adorn this land of dense, unforgiving jungle, though his predecessors found no gold in the area. Eventually they would discover soil that was rich enough to grow coffee and bananas, which put Costa Rica on the map. Gold or no gold, these Ticos are wealthy beyond measure for they have found a secret so dear that an adventurous Canadian had to travel thousands of kilometres to discover it.

Nothing is worth more than peace, if only inside yourself. And friendliness goes a long, long way.

© Meghan J. Ward, 2009

 

Bring on the Tourists

In light of recent talk lately about the ‘end of the economic recession,’ it seems the tourists are starting to arrive in Banff, ready to spend their hard-earned dollars on good food, mountain lodging, and tacky knick-knacks that you could collect from a multitude of stores that line the main drag. My seat near the window at Starbucks gives me a one-way window onto Banff Avenue and an insightful (and sometimes humorous) glance at this year’s contenders for the ‘Most Obvious Tourist’ Award.

Typical signs include the state of the art digital cameras that swing around the necks of amateur photographers, who will snap just about anything, including the squirrels. There is also the hardcore tourists, who think hiking poles, zip-off pants, and tilley hats are necessary for a stroll downtown. The bear bells have not quite come out yet, but they are usually spotted around Canada Day. That is also the time of year when Americans have asked why we are celebrating Independence Day on the first of July. Additional signs include the ‘deer caught in headlights’ look plastered on their faces, and the ‘Stop to Shop’ technique that has really helped me to improve my lateral agility. Dodging tourists who like to stop in the middle of the sidewalk to look at a goofy t-shirt has become an art, though some have not mastered it just yet.

Posing for the typical tourist photo at the local icecream store...

With all the humour, though, comes a totally fascinating and eclectic summer community. Though transient, to hear eight different languages spoken at once in the line-up here at the coffee shop is a joy. Serving people from a variety of nations in a given night provides unexpected travel…without actual travel. My guests take me to their small farm in Scotland, to the streets of Munich, to the land Down-Under, and the many cities across Canada. Though I don’t enjoy having to avoid near fatal collisions with tourists on the sidewalk and driving their rental cars, I never mind getting stopped on the street to help direct tourists in the right direction. My directions can be provided in French, broken Spanish and Japanese, as well as through large gestures indicating Left, Right, and Upstairs. My childhood love of charades and my degree in theatre has come in handy many times. Sharing my love for the mountains and the ’sweet spots’ that I like to spend my time is always a pleasure.

So, bring on the tourists, and a return to travel through the back alleyways of Banff where large transport trucks offer less of a threat than a collision with a large bus tour looking for the best bison burger in town. Banff was always planned as a tourist town, and that is why we are all here in the first place. Giving them the service they deserve, and that I would appreciate in places I travel to, is a responsibility and a privilege.

Just don’t expect me  bend over too far backwards when the way we do things here is not the same as ‘back at home.’ Our coffee might not be strong enough for you, and we can’t control the ever-changing weather. Welcome to Banff, where we have our own, genuine, rugged, wonderful mountain way.

© Meghan J. Ward, 2009.

Looking Up as the Sun Goes Down

*This article was originally printed in The Banff Crag and Canyon on February 3, 2009.

Looking Up as the Sun Goes Down: A Year in Banff

Like most permanent Banffites, I spent a few summers in the park before I finally became a true local, and didn’t leave with the changing seasons. I am soon approaching my 1-Year Anniversary with this mountain town, and my relationship with it has been about as love-hate as my relationship with new hiking boots. New boots rarely come without painful blisters and considerable break-in time before you discover you love them just as much as the ones you put in the garbage.

I arrived in Banff with two large suitcases, one of which was mostly filled with outdoor gear. I thought I had no expectations about the place, but I soon discovered I was quite disappointed when being an Outsider meant something other than loving the outdoors. The town had a hard shell that needed to be cracked open with more than just an ice axe. It required me to put myself out there. It has never been an arduous task trying to motivate me to get outside and enjoy the vast playground around the town, but in order to crack that shell I needed to get out into the community.

After a few awkward attempts to introduce myself to the ins and outs of Banff, I was quickly reminded that things take time. Getting involved, and getting a job (for that matter), could inch me towards feeling a part of things, but mostly I just needed to let Banff introduce itself to me. It took patience, but I slowly began to recognize people and recognize names, and, for better or worse, see how a small town is as interconnected as any other small town.

With that, however, I also learned the harsh reality of the transience of a tourist town like Banff, where more than just tourists leave as quickly as they come. The town turns a page every half year or so, and with it about half your friends leave, especially if you are a twenty-something-year-old. I used to be the one who left. My plan was to give Banff one year to prove itself to me, but I am quickly learning that life doesn’t align itself with our silly timelines.  Things take time.

As I approach my anniversary in Banff, I have been reminded of the importance of loving this town for the reasons I was drawn to The Rockies in the first place. I was first drawn to The Rockies simply because of my love for the mountains. I can stand and stare at a peak lit up with an alpine glow just as happily as I can stand on top of one, hopefully higher than the last. At times, though, my awe-struck wonder of the mountains becomes clouded by the frustrations and difficulties that one faces in trying to set down some roots in a town like Banff. It can be expensive and cliquey, and good housing is hard to come by.  At times I have kicked myself for ever thinking I could make a life here. But when I least expect it, the mountains bring me back. A certain sunset last week did just that on my way home from work. I walked extra slow that day, head looking skyward with not a single thought other than “…and I get to live here.”

In times such as these, when job opportunities seem to be fading away as quickly as the sun goes down in winter, it is especially important to remember why we are here. When a year ago, and in the years before, ‘Now Hiring’ signs adorned every window, it is hard to believe that a town like Banff could have such a downturn. It is all the more important, then, to show the world what this town is all about. It is more than just tourism, fine dining, and hotels. It is all about the incredible wilderness that surrounds the town that we are so lucky to call home.

Recently I have enjoyed skating on the oval on the Bow River as the sun goes down. The ice is rough and unfortunately requires me to tear my gaze downward from the last rays of sunshine on Rundle and Cascade lest I land on my head. As I skate around with my eyes fixed on the ice, my thoughts often wander reflectively to my year in Banff. Love seems to have won the battle in my love-hate relationship with this mountain town. Sometimes I just need to stop moving, stop walking, stop skating, and stop trying to figure things. When a day is particularly hard, when the price of cheese brings about a vehement response, when the thought of purchasing real estate makes me laugh, and when I feel like I am taking two steps back for every step forward… all I need to do is look up.

© Meghan J. Ward, 2009.