So, I am not very good at doing it. The "it" I speak of is hanging out by myself. You know what I mean, the solitary actions of walking the city streets taking it all in, the sitting at a cafe with a book or pad sipping a cooling expresso, sitting in a park with a bottle of water and a baguette. These are the activities that some of us enjoy, but, I must jealously admit that they drive me absolutely batty. The idea is romantic enough. Trapsing out on your own Kerowack style with backpack and moleskin journal in hand, ready to jott down the next piece of imagined wisdom, poetry, or in my case theology, that comes into your incredibly astute and artsy head.
Normally, I cant even think of doing this. I need conversation, my kids playing dodge ball in the living room, or my wife just existing near me, to do anything of value. If I am alone for any prolonged period of time, I put on NPR, or an audio book, but the tropics have been an allieviation of all of this in a small way.
One can not stay indoors in the tropics. It is not really an option. It is not because of the beautiful landscape, the frenetic action of the city, or the music of blenders that draws you out. What draws you out is the heat. It is hot in the house. You have to leave to let the sticky sweaty stuff of your day evaporate off of you. So there is nothing to do but go out, and if no one will go with you- you go anyway.
This what I found myself doing over and over again in the Dominican Republic. My buddy and I, Fyodor, would go out and sit in cafe's and drink espresso together. I thought Fyodor and I would be alone, but no...... In the tropics things are kind of loud. Marange and Bashetta music are meant to be played loud, conversations are loud, cars are loud. Its not that people mean to be loud, but they are just being passionate. Passionate in the way us reserved anglos are not. I think you can insert your own visions from Happy Days or The Meaning of Life into your mind as I say this and hopefully you will say.....oh yeah....know what you mean.
Well I digress, anyway how did the tropics teach me to be an introvert? Well, I realized that Fyodor was a screen! Oh yes a screen you say my good man.....no of course, I am being an ass, you must realize that the progressive nature of the people, or I say the drunkards.......Wait may be I did read a bit to much Fyodor......back to matter at hand! What I meant by a screen was that I read alittle, sipped a little, and watched people. I recall a man maybe arguing passionately, or maybe talking about his granddaughter. Whatever he was talking about, his hands were wildly moving, pointing in all directions. Then his hands would make all sorts of gestures that made one think he was bringing a chopper or an aircraft in for a landing. It was fascinating.
I also recall sitting in a cantina and watching a group of guys take a break from car washing to play dominoes. Voices would raise, tempers would seem to flare then they would hug. This is an amazing place of emotion. It is not like our emotion- an emotion we with hold in for fear of making someone upset, but the honest emotion that lets the other know where you stand in truth. Maybe this lesson would be one we could learn to live with. If becoming introverted for a while taught me this........bring on the Myers Brigg "I" designator.....I need it.
