The Displacement of a Spider

This morning, while moving boxes in my garage, my son shrieked when I displaced an enormous black widow spider from her lair. I am not in the habit of killing any bug, no matter how dangerous it may be. Rather, I will capture it for a few hours, observe its habits, and then let it go. So into a Mason jar went the spider, and she resided for the day on my son’s desk next to the computer monitor. As night fell, we made a trip a mile away, and left the spider in a privet bush so that she could continue on with her life.

Back in 2005 I lost my home, my business and all my belongings in Hurricane Katrina. In a 12-hour period my entire life was transformed from a comfortable home-owning artist and entrepreneur into a homeless single mother with a confused child and three days worth of clothes in a suitcase. There are few words that can really describe the feeling of sudden hopelessness and desperation I felt in those few days after the storm.

What happened afterward was nothing short of a miracle. After sifting through what the looters left, inhaling mold and dodging rotting beams, my mind cleared and I went into survival mode. I made calls, researched my options, and made plans to put my life together again. I took donations where I used to be the one giving them (including 9 boxes sent from Microsoft–thank you!!), checked in on fellow friends in the area, and wrote down goals. I was displaced, but I was not lost.

Now the spider and I, we have a lot in common. We were both taken from our comfortable surroundings by something beyond our control, and we both ended up somewhere we never thought we’d never be. I can only hope that she rebuilds her life as well as I did, and that she enjoys her new surroundings.

When Your Countrymen Show their True Faces

Last week I was in Panama, which is known for a large presence of ex-pats from the United States.  Although most of the ex-pats that choose to move there permanently–for the near-American lifestyle without the conspicuous consumerism and general selfishness of its North American counterpart–were kind and like-hearted lovers of life, the visitors who were there for a short time stuck out like sore thumbs among the soft-spoken and humble Panamanians.  Being an American who was visiting with an intention to retire there, I was stuck in the middle, yet I bordered on sympathy for the natives who suffered from the derision, disrespect and condescension of my visiting fellow countrymen.

“If Panama is going to make it, they have to step it up.  This service stinks.”

“See this thing the Indians made?  It’s cut out of a nut called the tagua.  I think it’s ugly, but if you have some aunt somewhere that likes this kind of stuff, you can buy it here.”

“This place is so behind the times.  I don’t know how people can live like this.”

These were some of the statements I collected, and cringed at hearing, on my recent stay in Panama.

Although I love my country, I was shocked and disgusted at the treatment those people endured from the tourists visiting their homeland.  They were expected to speak English, and if they didn’t, then they were fair game to be discussed in the presence of those that did.

My question  to them and to anyone else who would suggest that all people should adopt our (insane and unhealthy) lifestyle:

Why don’t you stay home if you like it so much?  Why bother traveling?

The key to guilt-free travel is to embrace the differences from the place in which we normally exist, drink in the uniqueness of the lifestyle and leave a benevolent footprint.  Let’s thank our hosts and return with positive experiences to pass on to those at home.

Guilt Free Travel: Are Handouts Necessary?

I remember the first time I saw a leper.

Although it’s on the decline thanks to modern medicine, leprosy is alive and kicking in many third world countries.  I was in Morocco, and the man sitting (armless, by the way) on the dirty street corner smiled at me with barely 3 teeth remaining in his mouth.  I was in a hurry to meet a wool rug merchant who was offering me a private showing of his best handmade rugs, and I didn’t want to be late.  I quickly smiled back to the leper and was on my way.

But it isn’t merely the disease-stricken that drew my attention on that and other trips.  It was the kids running after me on the remote island of Lombok when I rode in on the back of a truck.  There were six other people on the truck with me, but the kids knew to thrust their hands out to me rather than the other visitors.  Perhaps it was my snow-white skin, or the fact that I even gave them the attention at all;  but there it was, that compelling feeling that I had to give to anyone extending a hand out for help.

And so here we begin a thread on how we can enjoy guilt-free travel no matter where we end up.  For no matter which country you visit–which includes our own, if you care to look for it–there will be financial disparity between the citizens.  And unless you are whisked off to the Ritz Carlton immediately upon landing your Gulfstream, then you are likely to have exposur to those less fortunate than you.

I will be leaving for Panama on June 21, 2009, and will be reporting from there about our travels and how we handled the poverty surrounding us.