Christopher and I have recently returned from our September holiday. It’s always good to get out of the comfort zone of one’s home from time to time, especially when that home is being entirely repainted and you don’t want to deal with fumes from the workers and/or their work.
Quite frankly, as much as I love the Whitt-Wellington homestead (especially now that the walls have been given a fresh lick — lilac in the bedroom is even more perfect than I’d predicted), our trip away was a real respite from the grind our daily lives had become. Often, travel in and of itself can be exhausting, but with a combination of good planning and a little luck, ours was quite rejuvenating.
A few flights were required, but we were able to reduce our carbon footprint by primarily traveling by boat and on foot. I don’t know what the legal definition of jungle is, so to avoid prosecution I won’t use the term here, but I will say that most of our journey was hot as fuck. It’s good to know that this old girl still has enough strength and energy to get herself around, even in high temperatures. I did not ask Christopher to carry me once, even though I’d assumed he’d at least offer to. (He did not.)
The scenery was breathtaking, and I was intrigued by the new species of wildlife we saw. Christopher, on the other hand, was scared up a tree when he stumbled across a rather large snake — as you know, he’s quite a sensitive boy. The fact that the snake was clearly dead reminded me he’s also quite dim, but this time, his stupidity was both charming and funny.
However, my favourite part of our vacation spot was the biggest surprise: a local law banning all internet use. Initially, I naively assumed this was some thought-control act by a freedom-hating dictator. It turns out, though, the policy was democratically approved by the entire village’s population. Before we were given the keys to our small cabin, we had to sign a sheet, promising to respect the reason behind their unusual choice: to keep the region bujando-free.
There’s no precise English word that reflects the full meaning of their word bujando; the nearest translation is “bullshit.” I was 100% behind the policy (and took full advantage of it by asking Christopher questions I knew he’d have to answer honestly, and it was truly enlightening). However, even on vacation I like staying up-to-date with the news, and I worried I’d be unable to without the internet. This was not the case. The villagers were very knowledgeable about things going on outside their own borders. News updates were delivered each morning, and the cocosplitnu (their current events group) translated them immediately to be distributed throughout the village. We all gathered around a fire each evening, smoking something that would probably be illegal here while discussing the best ways to solve the moral challenges today’s world faces. The conversations were insightful: it turns out the lack of bujando meant people were clear in their points and open to listening to others’ (and no one cited the Denver Guardian once).
There was one detail, though, of which they were ignorant, and that was the name of the current US President. I suspect they knew — it couldn’t be a coincidence that their no-internet law was passed on 17 June 2015 — but neither Christopher nor I mentioned him, and I have to say it was liberating. We hadn’t forgotten, of course; I was hoping that whatever we were smoking might’ve destroyed that part of our memories, but all it did was give Christopher a twitch (which we were assured would disappear by Christmas). But God, did it feel good not to see Trump’s face or hear his name.
Alas, coming home has meant we are back to the full painful reality of 45. We hadn’t expected him to act like a reasonable, grown up politician while we were gone, but when we watched the president’s horrifying UN speech, we were both left speechless. Just as mind-blowing is the fact that he decided to take time from bringing the world closer to nuclear war to urge the NFL to fire Americans who express their First Amendment rights — all in the name of ‘ratings’ (which I believe is his misspelling of the word ‘racism’). He sure has been a busy and embarrassing boy.
Clearly, being back means our lives are no longer bujando-free; however, Christopher and I have both promised to limit the bullshit that invades our newly beautifully-hued space. We are back on the internet (obviously), and so in closing, I’d like to thank those of you who flooded my Inbox with autographs requests while I was away. They mean a lot to me.
However, in the spirit of honest and open communication, I can tell you right now: I’m probably not going to get to sending those out anytime soon.
Everyone Needs an Algonquin 
Agatha’s Public Chimes In