On being … a never-ending voyage

By Ingrid Sapona 

You get to a certain age and you think you know yourself pretty well, right? Well, I’ve always thought I knew myself, but sometimes the simplest questions leave me at a loss. For example, until recently, I couldn’t have told you what kind of movies I like. I realized this over the summer when a few of us were talking about what we’re watching on tv. One person mentioned something on Netflix and when it didn’t ring a bell with any of us, he described it. When he said it had some time travel in it, without skipping a beat, another friend chimed in: “Oh, I love movies with time travel.” I thought that admission was funny, but at the same time, I was glad no one asked me what kinds of movies I like. 

The truth is, I never really gave any thought to the kinds of movies I like. I have a few favourites, of course, for example, White Christmas and The Way We Were. But these certainly don’t fall into a “category” (unless sentimental is a genre). I went home wondering if there’s something wrong with me that I couldn’t immediately identify the kinds of movies I like. I could easily reel off genres I avoid: anything sci-fi, scary, violent, or dystopian. Eventually that night I realized there’s a genre I do gravitate toward: spy stories – though not the James Bond kind – stuff like Three Days of the Condor. (I know, maybe I should just say I’m drawn to movies starting Robert Redford, but that’s not really a genre – it’s more of a crush.) 

Another simple thing I hadn’t identify until my 20s was a favourite colour. It wasn’t until university that I realized how much I like purple (deep purple, to be exact). In my own defense, growing up in the 60s and 70s when people talked about purple, they usually meant lilac, or heaven forbid, mauve – both of which I’ve never liked. So, I really never gave purple a thought. Then, at university, purple and white were my alma mater’s colours. The dark purple was both warm and cheery. And, in law school I learned purple’s the designated colour for law and jurisprudence and from then on there was no denying it’s my favourite colour. 

I had another colour revelation recently when I went shopping for a new outfit. I found a pair of pants (a black/white print) that were nice and I wanted a top to go with it. The sales person brought me a top in a style that was nice and she mentioned they had it in a number of solid colours. When I went to look, I was immediately taken with the fuchsia. The I loved the colour, but was it me? 

The truth is, I’ve always been drawn to bright pink, but it took me a long time to even admit that. If you’re having a hard time imagining the colour, I may as well call it by its pop name: Barbie Pink. (It’s actually Pantone^® 219C, if you’re curious)    I think I’ve always been embarrassed to own up to liking Barbie Pink because the colour is so strongly associated with girlie-girls. (I certainly don’t fit the Wikipedia description of a girlie-girl: a woman who presents herself in a traditionally feminine way.)   

While I didn’t feel funny about choosing hot pink bath towels, just because you like a colour doesn’t mean you should wear it, right? The thing about Barbie Pink clothing is it’s pretty hard to blend in when you’re wearing it. Indeed, that may be part of the draw for some – but it’s not for me. Finally, after WAY too much debate, I ended up getting the fuchsia top. It looks fabulous with the black and white pants and besides, I figured, one look at my sneakers and everyone’ll know that I’m not a Barbie wanna-be. 

They say that one of the good things about getting older is that you’re more willing to be yourself. Being myself hasn’t really ever been much of a problem for me, but what has surprised me about getting older is how much there is yet to discover about myself. And the nice thing about growing old is that I have more time to learn about my (hidden) likes and perhaps a few (hidden) judgements – like about who wears what colours! 

What about you? Any surprise discoveries about yourself – maybe about some of your tastes changing, or perhaps things you now more freely admit to than you once might have? 

© 2024 Ingrid Sapona

On being … lessons from – and of – a tourist

By Ingrid Sapona 

A few years ago, before a trip to the UK I found a blog called Londonist that does a weekly update on things going on in/around London. I continue to read it because it’s interesting to hear about all the different things happening each week, even if I’m not able to attend any. 

Recently they published an amusing article featuring readers’ response to the question: “What things does a person do in London, which makes you instantly come to the conclusion: this person is not a Londoner?” It wasn’t surprising that the article opens with a photo of three women – tourists – smiling as they take a selfie at one of the iconic (irresistible?) red phone booths. The last photo was also a gimme: four people striding across the striped cross-walk at Abbey Road. Mind you, I’ll bet even some Londoners have done that! 

What I found most interesting about the article was that many of the responses were as revealing about Londoners as they were about the behavior of the tourists. For example, one reader commented about tourists, “Remarking ‘so much history’ as they stop by a building Londoners have obviously strode past for years.” From the tourist’s point of view, if you live in a country founded in the late 1700s (the US) or mid-1800s (Canada), a building pushing 100 is probably considered historic in your hometown. For those from the “new world”, it’s hard not to be awed by – and maybe remark on – the sheer number of buildings in London that go back many, many centuries. 

Then there was this, which is similar, but more even telling about Londoners: “Someone looking up at a building, rather than solely focusing on where the next spare mm is of the pavement they can occupy for a nanosecond, in order to expedite their … travel time”. Makes Londoners sound so focused on getting from here to there that they only notice those in their way. (Of course, that kind of rushing about happens in many cities, but it doesn’t make it any less sad that folks don’t have time to appreciate their surroundings.) 

There were lots of comments on tourist quandaries about the Tube (the subway). One person mentioned a tourist who was “Confused the Northern line goes south”. In that poor confused tourist’s defense, I say: who amongst us hasn’t been overly literal at one time or another? Someone else commented about a tourist who wondered which tube station to get off at for Windsor (which, at about 25 miles outside of London, can be reached by train, but not subway). I can relate to being a foreigner-who-made assumptions about the proximity of things in a foreign land. When I lived in Amsterdam a friend’s parents were visiting and on the day they were flying home, we decided to drive them to Antwerp for lunch. Given how close it looked on the map, we figured we had plenty of time. To our surprise, it was over 100 miles away! Made for quite a scramble to get them to the airport on time. 

Behaviour on the Tube can also be a giveaway of one’s non-native status, apparently. For example, one Londoner remarked about a tourist who “watched a video with SOUND on” while on the Tube. The fact that a Londoner found that comment-worthy makes me think that such rudeness, er, behaviour isn’t the norm in London. To that I say: Lucky London Tube commuters! Talking loudly on the phone and playing music and videos for all to hear is, unfortunately, pretty common here. 

But it was the comments under the heading “Overly-friendly tourists” that I thought said more about Londoners and their buttoned-up manner than it did about tourists. For example, one reader commented that they could tell a non-Londoner because they smiled at someone they didn’t know. Another noted that trying to start a conversation on the Tube show’s you’re not from London. And someone else commented about strangers saying please and thank. Wow, I thought. These are all things I’m sure I did – repeatedly – in London (and pretty much everywhere I’ve ever visited). Though I’d like to think I blend in (at least in the UK and northern Europe), if friendliness marks me out as a stranger, I don’t mind. 

I’ve always thought that travelling widens your perspective toward others. What I didn’t really think about before was that it’s a two-way street. Contrasting how tourists behave with how locals behave tells us something about both.   

© 2024 Ingrid Sapona