The Importance of Being Idle

A few weeks ago at a Cuban Revolution themed party my good friend excitedly presented me with a book stating excitedly “that it would change my life”. Now i have known this boy for close to ten years and we have probably made this statement to each other no less than a 1000 times. There is always a record, a book, a song, a show, a trip, a sandwich which will change your life. Regardless of the amount of times this promise has been made each time we take it seriously, you could say that we are ridiculous people that way.

It was a second hand copy of “How to be Idle” by Tom Hodgkinson arguing against the guilt that we are made to feel if we aren’t productive every moment of our lives and celebrating things like sleeping in, drinking, going to long walks, taking long lunches, sitting in pubs, basically all the enjoyable things that for some reason we limit ourselves to enjoy only a few times a year on vacation. Being off work right now I have been struggling with my natural impulse to be busy and productive every moment, not to jump out of bed every morning at 6:30 and consult a colour coded to-do list.  

I decided to start small by sleeping in on the weekends instead of running around the house while the boys slept.  I have to say it quite enjoyable. I woke up, went back to sleep. The baby woke up, we cuddled and went back to sleep. The baby woke up again and we chatted to each other in bed. Mehernosh who obviously has been following the whole idle movement for years woke up hours later.  We contemplated what to do with our day, talked about the small moments during our week we have forgotten to recount to the other while Kayan lay between us squealing  obviously proud at himself at having found his way to our bed. It was lovely. My life may not allow me to drink a lot or of spend hours in pubs but there is something to be said for the quieter moments when there is no rush from point A to B, when where you are is your final destination.

                                  

The Best Thing I Ever Ate

Does distance make the heart grow fonder? It may with some of these items. Their sheer unavailability combined with nostalgia makes them all the more irresistible. While I may restrict myself at home, when one is on vacation the house rules no longer apply. Traveling is a time to divulge and explore foods you would never even consider at home. I hope to pass this on Kayan, refusing to eat the local food is right up there with wanting everyone to speak English in my big book of travel faux pas.

Tikka Masala Mumbai, India

We are leaving for India in less than a month and all I can think about is the Paneer Tikka Masala at Leopold’s cafe in Bombay. I stay up at night thinking of this dish. There are times when I think I only mentioned going back to India so I can eat this again. I make this dish at home a couple times a month but it’s missing something, I need that Bombay sweat and grim to make a truly fantastic Tikka Masala .It is best accompanied with either garlic or butter naan and a super sized Kingfisher. We used to go to Leopold’s after a long day of shooting, faces still caked with Bollywood style make up, order our Tikka Masala and a tower of Kingfisher. When the Kingfisher came out we would cheer like the greedy and needy foreigners we were. These were much simpler times.

Fried Chicken and Plantains, Blue Fields, Nicaragua 

First off I am a vegetarian (well pescatarian) but when you have the opportunity to eat fried chicken and plantains for a street merchant at 3 am in some back street behind a country bar in Blue Fields Nicaragua with a friend you haven’t seen in 3 years that you only found by wandering the streets of said town by asking strangers “do you know Wilmer Hall” after making the whole trip on a whim, you simply do.

Egg Sandwich, Leogane Haiti

Man cannot live on bread alone. Man cannot also not live on rice and beans alone especially when that man or woman is working 9 plus hours a day in the heat. Beans and rice, rice and beans, sometimes twice a day but guaranteed at least once a day during the two weeks we spent digging through the rubble in Haiti. While I commend the cooks for their challenging position of having to feed a 100 + people on a limited budget sometimes rice and beans will  not cut it (particularly when 3 months pregnant) I had heard whispers between the bunks late at night before I had ever seen her. It seemed that every time I went to find her she had just left, until one magical day when she was there “Egg Sandwich Lady” at side of the road making her infamous egg sandwiches for a line of weary, sunburnt North Americans. Now this is one of those times where you need to throw words like “hygiene” and “sanitary” out the window and just enjoy the moment, a perfectly prepared egg sandwich on a dirty, dusty, forgotten road in Haiti.

Caipirinha, Brasil

Technically this isn’t a food. And I didn’t eat it as much as drink many of them. Many, many, many of them during my two weeks in Brasil. And sure they led me to say things I may not have normally said, or dance when I normally would not have danced, or cause me to claim me that I am 23 when I am clearly not 23, or break out into Spanish when I really don’t know much Spanish (this is probably very annoying when you are Brazilian and you speak Portuguese) However, I hold this drink at least partially responsible for the most fun, craziest, ridiculous, fuzzily recollected two weeks that I ever had.

Plan B

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A few weeks ago I was at a friends’ house and we were discussing plan Bs. What happens if you lose your job or something big happens and you have to start over? Going over my plan B in painstaking details is one of my favourite hobbies, but the conversation got me thinking, now that baby makes three did I have to review my plan Bs?

1.       The Revolution

A few years ago I read a book called The Americano about an ordinary, slightly boring American man that moved to Cuba during the revolution and fought along side Che and Castro. In his American life, he was unremarkable, unsuccessful and unremembered but in Cuba he rose through the ranks and became admired and respected. Despite the fact that he met a less than ideal end (firing quad) I am undeterred, going into the jungle and fighting along side “the people” in some Spanish speaking country seemed right up my alley. I am fairly confident that Kayan would transition nicely from our apartment in the Westend to the heat and humidity of South America. He likes the outdoors and prefers to spend all day in his carrier which of course would be a required as we outrun and outwit the government. My bigger problem with this fantasy is that currently there are no revolutions going on in countries I am keen on visiting. I require sun, a beach, cheap rum and preferably singsong Spanish to entice me into combat.

2.       Into the Wild

I spent my early years in a house that my Dad built with no indoor plumbing or electricity so I always view this plan B as a return to my roots. Sure there are inconveniences eg no Starbucks or sushi places but am sure that the satisfaction that I would have from crafting everything myself and living off the land would eventually  squash my need for the term "venti".  Kayan would be homeschooled which would be slightly problematic for him as he would gain a good understanding of what led to the break up of the Beattles but never learn algebra. However I think there is a good argument for why one is more relevant than the other.

3.     

S  Swiss Family Robinson

Ok, so maybe I don’t really want to be ship wrecked but I would love to move down to South America and run a little B & B. This has been a daydream of mine for years and on a weekly basis i scan the real estate section for plots of land or little houses for sale. Investigating the political situation in different countries and reading up on their foreign ownership laws is a daily ritual for me. Occasionally I wonder how I would find the time to cook and clean for my guests when right now I sometimes struggle to do that just for the three of us  but am sure it would come in time. Kayan would make friends with the local children, and maybe he would be like the kids I saw in Brasil who knew how to surf by the time they were three or four. This is the one that makes me the most excited for him because whenever i see kids in South America they always seem so free. It feels more like how I grew up without the constant wave of scheduled activities, car pools and obsessive toy collecting that seem to fill most children’s days now. 

It is possible that if any of these plan Bs came to fruition  that i would be daydreaming of my current life while  hiding in the jungle or while making me own butter in candle light. I would think about taking Kayan for walks around the seawall, or the way just steps from my door I can experience a variety of world cuisine. I would think about the night runs over the Burrard street bridge when the city seems so peaceful or the Friday nights when it seems less so.  Everything I have now would seem like a pretty great plan B .