Stranger Than Fiction, 34 (2014, Last Year)

Last year, 2014, I left the Anglican parish church of St. Happy-Happy.  I had been under the impression that I would be attending this parish for the rest of my natural life.  I thought of the struggles of trying to fit in or at least be accepted by the insular and snotty social cliques there as temporary hiccups.  I did volunteer work and was basically not well-treated.  I had befriended a lesbian couple who were immediately welcomed and had a stratospheric success in social popularity there.  I would flinch as parishioners who ordinarily ignored me or wouldn't give me the time of day would wave and greet us enthusiastically when we were together, only to note the discomfort and embarrassment on their faces when I returned the greeting.

Several things snowballed but it became abundantly clear that I had never been welcome in this church, was not welcome, and likely would never be welcome there.  I took down the three of my paintings that were on display in the parish home, tearfully walked home with them and have never since set foot inside St. Happy-Happy'.

I am at a different Anglican parish now, well outside of my neighbourhood and, despite some of our minor differences, I can honestly say that I'm happy there, I always look forward to attending and to seeing people there.  It's been over a year now.

In the meanwhile I shall conclude this post with items from my travel journal.

Friday, 28 March 2014

The Bougainvillea Curtain

This morning in the kitchen of the guest house where I am staying I had a conversation with a guest who lives in Guadalajara.  I told her that while Canada has a high standard of living it has little if anything to match the charm of Mexico.  This country has a lot of charm, as well as history and culture and incredible beauty, natural and artistic.  It may not be an easy place to spend time in but to the senses it is intoxicating to the point of leaving one feeling completely sensorally overloaded.  Is it any wonder that so many Canadians keep returning here, despite the corruption, the pollution, the social inequality, the gang violence, etcetera.  As I have previously mentioned my social conscience does seem to have run ahead of my aesthetic needs and for this reason I do not feel I can return to this country, at least not in the next few years.  While I am back in Canada I will likely feel tempted, lured and seduced by the sweeter memories of this place, then foolishly return only to be splashed in the face with the reality of the toxic public water this country is notorious for.  I will make a point of rereading these posts whenever I feel tempted.
     Speaking of toxic water, during this trip I have been using hand sanitizer all the time, whenever water touches my hands, after using public transit, before eating, after using a computer.  It seems to be working as I go home in three days and I still haven't been sick (touch wood!)
     The sounds of a neighbourhood in Mexico in the morning can be very diverse, from the sweetness of birdsong to an incredible range of human dissonance.  This morning there was some fellow outside selling cooking gas from his truck, and he was out in the street hollering repeatedly, ''Gassss!!!!!!''  but it sounds like Waaaaauuuugh!!!!!, or as though he himself is suffering from gas. Meanwhile another fellow was whistling manically while directing cars.  Mexican men have this peculiar toneless whistle they use while directing cars to park that at first sounds amusing but after prolonged exposure can be very irritating.  Around the same time another fellow was riding a gigantic tricycle hocking what appeared to be tamales.  Attached to his tricycle was a recorded voice message announcing in a loud, metallic, almost robotic tone, ''Tamales oaxaquinos, calientes, deliciosos tamales, tamales muy ricos, tamales oaxaquinos,'' over and over and over again, which translates as Tamales of Oaxaca, hot, delicious, tamales, very tasty tamales, tamales of Oaxaca.
     You know, lately I have been trying to visualize the neighbourhoods I love here without the bougainvillea, and they don't seem that attractive after all.