Mexico city

The moving star

I walk twice a day. On the first walk I listen to something, a podcast or a lecture, anything to stay curious and informed. On the second I listen to nothing. Just the forest, my thoughts, and the sky, especially when it’s clear.

Tonight it was clear. Living near the ocean means the stars are often out, and I walked in the dark looking up at the Big Dipper and a lot of things whose names I don’t know.

Then one of the stars started moving.

It was a plane, obviously. The nearest major airport is 60 kilometers away, and judging by its direction, it had probably just finished crossing the Atlantic. I watched it slide over the treetops, a slow blinking light with hundreds of people inside.

I imagine one of them left Mexico City this morning and has never been outside their country. Hours ago they were in a huge, loud city with wide avenues, busy markets, painted walls and the smell of corn and chili on every corner. Soon, they’ll step out into Bordeaux, where everything is smaller. The streets are narrow, the buildings are all the same pale stone, the sky is gray, and it’s probably raining.

People have coffee and a croissant for breakfast instead of tamales, in cafés where the windows fog up and everyone keeps their coat on. Nobody around them speaks their language. They’re not just changing places, they’re changing realities. The only thing that comes with them is the feeling of being human.

For nearly all of human history, a crossing like this took months, if it happened at all. My DNA says some of my ancestors came from Central America to Europe, then Africa. I have no ties to the Central America. Neither did my grandparents, and I’ve never been. I have no idea who those ancestors were, why they left, or how they crossed. But however they did it, it took months, with no promise of return. Tonight, someone can make the same crossing between breakfast and dinner, for a few hundred dollars, with a movie, a plastic tray of food and a nap.

I’ve traveled all my life, so landing has become routine for me, and that’s exactly the problem. It takes a first-timer, or a dark forest, to make me feel how strange it is.

I kept walking. The light shrank and disappeared, and the sky went back to being just ol’, regular stars. Somewhere past the horizon those people were collecting their luggage and starting whatever came next. For some of them it would be routine. For others, everything would change.

I’ll never know which.

Tomorrow I’ll probably see another airplane and think nothing of it.

But tonight, for a few minutes, I remembered to be amazed.

Teekay

European cities

Realizations after 9 years of living and traveling in Europe

Suddenly, the world feels so small.

It’s funny how easily we take things for granted once we’ve lived them.

I hadn’t set foot in continental Europe until I was 17. I was never particularly fascinated by it, but I was curious, mainly because I’ve always been a football head (aka soccer). My understanding of Europe came almost entirely through football. It’s surprising how much you can learn about a place through the way it presents itself to the world.

For me, football was Europe’s Hollywood.

Sure, I’d read books by European thinkers like Rousseau, Voltaire, Dostoevsky, Adam Smith (dad’s an economist), Marx (capitalism’s greatest critic), Montesquieu and plenty of Greek philosophers, but most of them weren’t contemporary thinkers. They wrote about their own times, their realities. Football, on the other hand, made Europe feel present, dynamic, real. It gave me a window into the continent’s character.

For instance, I knew about the English and their pub culture way before I had set foot in England. I already knew they loved to drink before games, loved to sing in the stands and viewed the sport almost like a religion.

The Dutch, with their total football philosophy, played the game differently. Organized, intelligent, team-oriented, their football reflects a society that values structure and versatility.

The Germans famously love their beer. Bayern Munich holds a photoshoot every year to promote Oktoberfest, which I only knew about thanks to their events.

The Turks are loud and proud. Fireworks in the stands, packed stadiums on a weekday, and fans who treat football like life or death, it perfectly depicts their character.

The Spanish, on the other hand, are just as proud, but more divided. The Basques, Catalans and Andalusians all bring their own flair to the game. They also have their own holidays, like San Jordi (Catalan Valentine’s day), and you learn about those through football too.

The Italians are perhaps the only ones who proudly exposed the ugly face of their society through the beautiful game: their racism toward Black players, their theatrics and machismo are ever present on the pitch and off of it. Their passion is unmatched and unapologetic, but so is their cheating. Not great, thank God people outside of football are different.

Anyway, last but not least, the French. It was already striking to me how different people within the country were. France is so diverse, which I already knew then, but which became even clearer the second I set foot here.

I’ve been to more than 20 European countries since moving here, and visited over 100 cities in Europe. I’ve made lifelong friends who became family. I studied, partied and worked with them. Better yet, I ended falling in love with a European, who then became my wife and lifelong partner. Who would’ve thought?

And yet, I take it all for granted now.

I love living in Europe, and there is nowhere else I’d rather be, but traveling around Europe doesn’t excite me as much as it used to. It feels like I’ve seen it all, which, of course, isn’t true.

It’s strange how easy it is to feel indifferent to things you once dreamed of.

Gratitude, I’ve learned, isn’t just a feeling. It’s an action. A choice.

Our next trip in Europe will be to the Balkans, and Greece. Albania, Montenegro and Bosnia are on our list. I hear the culture there is very different to Western Europe, which is super exciting!

Thank you for stopping by.

Peace!

Teekay