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Varanasi — The leg of the stool started to buckle underneath him, and I warned my friend of the imminent collapse. “No worries,” he said, “I have a feel for the balance of Indian things.”
The balance of Indian things? He was right — there’s a lot of precariousness here. Yet I hadn’t realized that a place can be so different from home that even the expected level of a seat’s stability has to be revised.
Pothole-bouncing rickshaws, wicker chairs in the twilight of their careers, the squat toilet on the overnight train, wooden bus seats, the back of a battered Vespa fighting through gravel. Our comfort depends on how quickly we adapt to these new standards.
It’s no wonder that India and so many other places can initially feel like you’ve been pushed into the middle of a circus. I’m wondering if culture shock might be more than a mental lack of balance. How much does the physical affect us — day after day of playing hopscotch with cow patties, sleeping dogs, and steaming trash?
But still, we seek out this instability. Do we need time in a place like this to balance out our time at home? Do we come here to be put off-balance? Is travel just one big balancing act? Can I really end this post without mentioning bank balances?
Your thoughts appreciated…
April 14th, 2010 at 1:17 pm
I find that one of the best things about traveling outside my country (USA), is seeing how much more people can do with less. I’ve been in Guatemala and Mexico. In both countries, the people are extremely resourceful. They are masters of reusing and re-purposing things. Who would have thought of using an old box spring mattress (without the cover) for a gate? Or the shoe makers shop I walked by this morning. You can select the sole, heel and upper boot for your own custom pair, or only replace the part of your current boot that needs replacing. Either way, you are getting quality. And you haven’t just tossed an old pair of boots into the garbage that will fill a hole in the ground. Or the pickup truck or van packed with 15-20 people. Yes, it is crowded, but the wear and tear on the roads is less,and there is less use of fuel. In the USA, we are taught to think of this as people being poor. I like to think of this as people making the most of what they have. When they do, we tend to live with a lower impact on the earth.
April 14th, 2010 at 5:16 pm
Your post about adjusting to the mental and physical balance of a place that is foreign to our everyday senses, made me think of something I learned from an exercise trainer. He taught me to alternate standing on one leg when using hand weights. Not only is it better for your back — you’re less likely to “cheat” by using your back muscles instead of the intended arm and upper torso muscles — it also provides an additional workout for your leg muscles, and it improves your balance.
Walking down a foreign street, with more or just different obstacles than we are used to at home, can seem like a form of exercise — making us focus harder and exert ourselves a bit more. I’ve always thought of travel as a mental and spiritual exercise to challenge one’s notions of “normal.” Now I realize that there can also be a physical component. I think we often do seek out that imbalance in our travel, to give our bodies, souls, and minds a workout.
April 15th, 2010 at 5:02 am
Do we travel to experience being out of balance? Sure! Home is stable, known, and we can balance ourselves there. Travel is the great force that throws you askew, until you learn that throwing yourself out of balance is a necessary first step to dancing.
April 15th, 2010 at 7:04 am
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