Life in Paradise; Where to live? Who to be?

Oasis Feature: A Series of Views #3
Tourist Trying on Identities

You could say I live in the jungle, which is what my son and some of his friends have said about our isolated setting. I have lived in many places in the US, and traveled to many other countries. I realize that this life of movement and travel is not unique to me but a social trend of which I am a part. People are grasping that they can live in new ways. I see that we are becoming open to change and allowing our localized identities to shift. Are you like me when you travel? Wherever I go, I imagine myself living there. (I do that in blogland too.) When I go for walks, I look at homes and people, and imagine myself living that life. I'm part of the sliding group of humans who ask, "Who am I in this place?"

Even within the same country there are so many lifestyles to try on. I've explored country life, small town life, and city life. I'm in the country again and, I feel somewhat situated here. My greatest conflict though is between living in the city or the country. I love the accessibility of culture in the city. I love to sit in coffee houses and write, or to find my own special places in a city such as a restaurant or art gallery, or a favorite walk, or join in special local events. I love the country too, where I can grow things, and watch nature change. Of course, seasonal transitions are available everywhere. It's just that in the country, nature is the strongest character in life's play and consequently, makes the biggest impact. I enjoy being alone all day and having time to think or just clear my rushing mind from intense feeling. While living in the country, I can create my own retreat-like atmosphere. I have the option to boycott the television, the radio, the phone and just float off into silence, whereas there are often intrusions in the city- or depending on your perspective- they may be opportunities to connect. I don't want to become so cut off that I lose the vitality that comes from people.

What place expresses the real way I want to live? I think that the country is my true home, especially when I'm reveling in nature's abundance as it spills out at my feet. You may wonder what is causing this pensive reflection? And I would blame it on the trees.




In Puerto Rico, it's funny how the blazing flamboyan trees, signal the end of summer and the return to school.


This summer as I looked over the mountain side trying to catch a glimpse of red, I understood that when I found the popular draping scarlet curtain blown open by the intense Caribbean heat, it's message would be: It's over. Time to go back to your other life-the lively but more driven life. Like the burning sting of the red fire ant when you boldly walk barefoot across the grass, I realize it's time- the flame tree is ablaze. I reason with myself; it's not the arbol de flamboyan's fault!

Its' blossom is like an abundant bouquet of orchids and the closer you get, the more detailed the beauty. From a distance, you see a Spanish flamingo dancer's skirt twirling open and it's caught in a memory ...














I remember the first time I realized the beauty of this tropical tree. It was in the 80's, and my mother was traveling with me to visit my new husband's family in Puerto Rico. The Flame tree enthusiasm was lost to me- buried as it was in the general over saturation of a new cultural experience. Plus, it was hot! We were driving through the crowded tapon (traffic jam) on route number 2, when the car's tire blew out. Pulling over under the nearest shady spot, we pour out of the car to assess the damage. It would take a while for my husband to change the flat tire so Mom and I began to look around. I find large brown seed pods on the ground. When I start to collect them, I notice they make a sound like a rattle or maracas but softer, and they came from the tree above. The ground is covered in a red carpet, and looking up, I notice that we are stranded under the famous flamboyan tree. I call out to Mom, "Look at this tree!" It connected me to the Caribbean as no other natural experience. Perhaps that's why it's obsessively featured in local paintings?

You can go to Plaza Las Americas any day of the week and find a painting of a flamboyan tree for sale. Puerto Rico, it says to the culturally smitten. And now, here we are driving home to our house in the mountains. Just around the corner, there it stands. I realize that I must stop and attempt to capture this stunning tree. We are Puerto Rican for a time in Puerto Rico, the heat of the dancer's skirt rises from the street in Barrio Achiote. Red flame. Summer's end.