At Women's Worlds Conference in Ottawa, I had the privilege to present in a concurrent session on the politics of travel. There is a big difference between traveling as a tourist and traveling as a conscious activist. In preparing for my big trip to Ecuador, I'm learning there is also a difference between packing as a tourist going to a resort and packing for this coming adventure. I'm not packing three different kinds of bathing suits, but packing a single subtle one-piece in case the culture considers skin exposure for women indecent. I'm not packing heels and a skimpy dress for 'nights on the town,' I'm packing my more modest long kurtas I got in India with their beautiful colors.
So when people ask me questions like, 'will you come back with a tan?' I have to kind of laugh. I plan to get 2 hours a day of lay-out time to catch some rays. That's a joke. This is not a trip to Florida, this is not a backpack across Europe, in fact- I have no idea what this is going to be! But my questions are more along the lines of 'should I bring gifts for the people I will be staying with?'. If I come back with a tan, that's sweet. If I come back without a tan, then I will just fit in with everyone here in the U.S. in December (unless I go to Jersey...I'll never be jerseylicious orange).
I remember when I came back from Ireland everyone asking me about the beer and people there. Yes, that is a part of their culture and yes, the beer is awesome there! BUT, there is so much more there than just that. The deeply rooted discomfort between the loyalists and the nationalists is evident almost everywhere I went in Belfast where I lived for a few months. I witnessed the Orange parades where the loyalists paraded around waving British flags, celebrating when William of Orange first took over Ireland. I witnessed the loyalists burning wooden pallets four stories high covered in Irish flags. Yes, there was much more than just beer in Ireland and when I told people this there was often a big disconnect. They didn't want to hear about politics, they were asking me for drunk stories--which I would not give. Similarly, when I left India I would not tell the tragic sad slum stories I heard and saw. There is so much more to it than that and I refuse to fuel any western stereotypes. Once somebody has sat down and listened to me gab about the wonderful food, culture, and friends I made in India- only then will I allow them to hear about the other parts I encountered. Maybe I'm stubborn, but I feel very strongly about this. Fueling these stereotypes is similar to when a person finds out I know American Sign Language and asks me how to say all of the "bad words." Until someone can sign their name and 'nice to meet you,' I refuse to tell them any of the other stuff.
It's strange, I'm not nervous at all for this trip. Somehow it all just feels right and I know it will all work out. The most stressful part of a trip like this is getting pulled in a million different directions by family and friends. Everyone wants to get in as much time as possible, which throws off my routine of having loads of just-me time. But I suppose my routine was bound to get disrupted very soon anyways...
p.s. I sprained my left pinky yesterday, so every 'a' and uppercase letter in this blog, feel my pain! Ouch...
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