Living the Dream

Yvoire, France.

Today I basically had the dream day that I would like to use as my model for Dream Life. It was strikingly simple. Which makes me happy, to think I am satisfied with something rather low-maintenance. (Though it does involve being in a beautiful place.)

I woke up at 7:30am. Had breakfast with my better half. Ate something light but also something sweet, which puts me in a good mood, because eating dessert for breakfast makes me feel sneaky, but as a semi-adult, like I am getting away with it. It wasn't terribly unhealthy: cornflakes, a croissant with nutella, and a cup of hot chocolate with a shot of espresso tossed in.
The caffeine perked me up.
Tom left for work/class which means I have the day to myself.

Spent a couple of hours browsing the web. Caught up on the news, looked at some impressive and inspiring things people are up to (grassroots NGO's, photo-essays in remote regions of the world, these kinds of things get me energized to make something of myself), and talked online with a couple of friends- which makes me feel less like a lone satellite orbiting in a meaningless void. Keeps me close to home.

My friend Gozaldi, from Indonesia, was online.. I even knew which internet place he was at, I could imagine him in the booth, drinking some overly sweet soft drink and chainsmoking. He never realizes how far down the cigarette has burned and inevitably huge clumps of ash will fall onto the keyboard. It was so nice to know exactly how it was all going down, thousands of miles away, somewhere so different from here it is difficult to even fathom. He and I brainstormed Indonesian names for the gallery I want to open, I like all the double-words in Indonesian, like "gila-gila" (which means crazy), "laki-laki" (boy/man), "cumi-cumi" (squid), "jalan-jalan" (take a walk), but none of those are exactly fitting for an art gallery. I was glad to have another fond memory of Indonesia, the quirky fun of those words popping and rolling off my tongue.

We then talked about his "soundpedia" the sound art installation he is making to tell the history of Indonesia since 1850 (through sound and musical composition). I am again reminded of the fascinating, tumultuous history of Indonesia and affirmed in my desire to facilitate greater exposure to the really cool and innovative art happening there now.

Then I went for a walk: which today brought me to the harbor and lakeside of the vast Lac Laman, or when we are in Switzerland, Lake Geneva. I found some trails that led through woods alongside the lake, and stretched my legs, got my thoughts circulating for my writing. A couple of small boys hid under a wood-planked bridge and as I walked by/over it, poked sticks up at my feet. It was so cute!

I marvelled. This village is centuries old. Stone fortress like buildings, dead ivy sprawled and clinging to their sturdy yet forlorn surfaces, narrow little pathways between more ancient architecture... the sound of gulls squawing. Big stones by the water had a strange discomforting moss on them that looked like the toupee my middle school French teacher used to wear (RIP M.Slater). There was a species of bird I had never seen before, plump and black and white, hanging out on the dock, a pair of these birds, something of a cross between a penguin, duck, swan, and dodo. Bizarre, right? There was a huge swan- looking at it- I felt it must have been a mutant or a freak. When I think of birds, I first imagine a sparrow or swallow, something tiny and chirpy that darts around deftly. This swan looked like the t-rex of birds. I found it frightening, sculptural, dangerous.

How weird is it that the Queen owns all the swans in England? I was glad this swan is in France, a French swan, because I had a feeling it would not bow down to the Queen. How unnecssary is that- for the Queen to own all the swans? Is it just to remind us of an unnecessary unappealing British need to own lives, which they deem inferior, and feel justified in possessing, en masse, by some divine allowance? Very strange to me. Poor swans. Where other birds can live in freedom, the swan is the serf of the Queen.

Anyway, listening to the lapping of waves on the pebbled beach brought my thoughts elsewhere, and yet focused them at the same time. So now I am properly inspired to write about the disintegration of my time in Indonesia, some key moments in that confusing, colorful, depressing, rainy chapter of my life, and how it led me to China..where I gratefully and athletically pursued Redemption!

In short, I love life in this tiny French medieval village. I feel like I could write a thousand essays if I lived here.