Curiosity Roving : V.4 : Pines and Needles
Curiosity Roving
The Grand Adventures of Rose Goossen
V.4 : Pines and Needles
in which we savour the flavour of the Pacific Northwest
____________________________________________________________________________
Greetings and Salutations!
And welcome to the fourth volume of Curiosity Roving. I thank you kindly for your attention. For new subscribers, a special thanks and how d'you do. This newsletter is my humble attempt to give away all the goodness that I am enjoying in life.
Today, I write to you from an adult-sized fairy garden at the foot of Hope Mountain in southern Oregon. Since my last note in late July, I have finally completed the transition to a fluid and rootless traveling lifestyle, a process that has been in progress since March. My possessions can now be contained in one smallish army surplus backpack. If we don't count the twenty-odd bags that I use for organization, they number about one hundred objects. Yes, I counted, and frankly, Marie Kondo has got nothing on me.
where did you sleep last night?
With the transition in lifestyle have come parallel shifts in my attitude and my daily way of being. I simply love to travel, and I feel that I am at my best when I do so. The art of travel, for me, lies in a profound commitment to the uninterrupted experience of a true present. I feel awake, clear, and engaged with reality, such as it is, at almost all times. When I have fewer possessions and fewer commitments, I come into contact with a greater sense of freedom to exist within an uncomplicated sensation of enjoyment. I experience serendipity and the laws of attraction in galvanizing immediacy. It is comparable to a meditative state. I do not prescribe this way of life for everyone; I merely testify that it really, really works for me.
with child for scale
Let's talk territory. Since my last letter, I have spent time in Washington and Oregon, on the west coast of the United States. The modern image of this part of the world is characterized by technology overlords, sporty outdoor activities, pop culture trendsetting, and legal marijuana. If we look back to the mid-19th century, we can trace the settlement of these two states to the land grants that were offered by the federal government, roughly concurrent with the California Gold Rush. The wild west has always been a land for opportunistic outlaws and takers of risk. I love to be here.
farm life
It is not my first time to visit this region, but it is the first time in a decade, and although Canada and America share some neighbourly commonalities such as the English language, the brunch special, and a number of chain stores, it feels as foreign as any other place. Everything that I expect to be French is Spanish, and I can't talk about distances or temperatures with anybody. Last night my friend told me, "thirty two feet will kill you", and I still don't know how many meters I would fall to my death.
you bet it is
I have been startled by the emphatic presence of war in the American consciousness. Veterans and absent sons are common familial components. The Home Depot has parking spots designated for those wounded in action, and the neon at JD's Sports Pub reminds us to never forget the events of 9/11. There are billboards on the freeway advertising the army's education incentives. I attended the Seattle Seafair, a major summer festival with major military support, and I was astonished by the glamour of the war industry as it is presented to the American public. I bore witness to the Golden Knights and the Blue Angels as they executed pirouettes across the sky over Lake Washington, and I admit, I was dazzled. Then I eavesdropped on a father as he explained martial law to his children, and I asked the hazy skies why on Earth that should be necessary on such a beautiful day.
even the popsicles are in on it
Despite the fact that this place is somewhat dangerous and also expensive, I was motivated to visit the United States for three good reasons. First and foremost, I have some wonderful friends here, with whom I am enjoying happy reunions. Secondly, I haven't been here in a decade, and it is interesting to create a temporal landmark that allows me to measure the ways in which I have changed, and the way the place has, as well. Thirdly, and perhaps most significantly, I am curious to explore the ground-floor reality of this country that is so frequently under the international microscope, this global superpower whose every move is documented, magnified, and publicized into redundancy by the world media machine. I wish to to strip a few veils from this glossy enigma and reground my opinion of the United States in actual lived experience.
seek and ye shall
In the three weeks that I have been here, I have enjoyed brief contact with varied fascinating strata of American society. I have been to the forest, the city, the Old Curiosity Shop, the swimming hole, the secret speakeasy, the truck stop, the underground tour, the public piano, Portland's Hollywood, the rooftop rave, the time-share sales breakfast buffet, the Vietnamese karaoke bar, the steakhouse jazz jam, the starlit funeral procession to a parking lot, and the annual convention of the National Button Society. Although my observations are only preliminary at this point, I am content to report that the people of the west coast remain as feisty, as clever, as effervescent and as nonchalant as their pioneer gene pool should have engineered them to be, and even if the nation is divided on many crucial issues, everyone here seems to agree that things are totally messed up, and that is a tidy sort of basic, foundational unity.
automobile of a button enthusiast
A exciting note on the business of generating words:
It it my intention to maintain the voice, spirit, and format of this newsletter as I have established it, which is to say that I am engineering this content to be relatable, unthreateningly informative, mildly journalistic, and appropriate for all ages. However, one thousand words is just not enough to serve you all that I wish to, so I have begun to wander in some other aisles of the language market, and today, I can offer a supplementary snack.
The working title of this side dish is Rhapsody. It's totally new, so I don't quite know what will become of it, but I know that it's good, and I won't hold out; you can have it right now. If and when you find the opportunity, I invite you to join me for this madcap adventure of a word painting in triptych, for which I have used a more immersive, aggressive, and visceral style of writing, and made some small allowances for PG-13 moments:
This is a hidden page on my website. Add it to your bookmarks and label it "Adventure Time". It is a divine pleasure for me to build and display these verbal sandcastles, and I thank you kindly for taking the time to admire them.
much more to come
I've spent the last week mostly generating lemon-themed installation pieces and costumes, because I'm soon off to Burning Man, which is a massive gathering of humans in the Nevada desert, and I'm camping with Black Rock Lemonade. I don't have a single hot clue about what might happen after that, and I like it! I'll update you around the autumnal equinox.
Until next time, stay curious. -- Rose
Appendix : The Perfect Backpack
Having spent half of my adult life living in various backpacks, I am an expert in this particular kind of packing, and today I offer you my five cardinal rules for a good kit.
1. Leave space. If your bag is completely full, either it is too small, or you need to make some judicious decisions about what not to put in it. You never know when you might wish to acquire something delightful or of temporary usefulness, so it is wise to leave a small margin of possibility.
2. Minimal cosmetics. Cosmetics are heavy, messy, expensive, and overrated. I have a reusable 40 millilitre bottle that I periodically refill with simple soap or shampoo and use to wash my hair, body, socks, and underwear. I have toothpaste and sodium bicarbonate for my teeth, and tea tree oil for my armpits and my lesser flesh wounds. I wear capes and hats instead of sunscreen.
Having spent half of my adult life living in various backpacks, I am an expert in this particular kind of packing, and today I offer you my five cardinal rules for a good kit.
1. Leave space. If your bag is completely full, either it is too small, or you need to make some judicious decisions about what not to put in it. You never know when you might wish to acquire something delightful or of temporary usefulness, so it is wise to leave a small margin of possibility.
2. Minimal cosmetics. Cosmetics are heavy, messy, expensive, and overrated. I have a reusable 40 millilitre bottle that I periodically refill with simple soap or shampoo and use to wash my hair, body, socks, and underwear. I have toothpaste and sodium bicarbonate for my teeth, and tea tree oil for my armpits and my lesser flesh wounds. I wear capes and hats instead of sunscreen.
3. Everything in its place. My backpack has few pockets, so it contains many other bags which contain many other things. I know exactly where each of my one hundred objects should be found at all times. This makes it easy to fetch whatever I need, and it helps me to avoid forgetfulness.
4. Inconspicuousness. Although the backpacking subculture has a noble history, recent trends in that industry are angling away from rugged survivors and intrepid explorers, and more toward privileged young people enjoying their gap years. Call me a snob, but lately, I prefer to avoid that association. My bag is black and simple and does not extend above my shoulders. When looking at me, no one should see a target.
5. Only the best clothing. I have three dresses, two pairs of shorts, one pair of slacks, one pair of leggings, two t-shirts, one tank top, one vest, two sweaters, three pairs of socks, four pairs of underwear, two scarves, and a pirate costume. I get compliments on all of it and I never feel deprived. Each item has a particular texture, so I can find them by feel in the dark. If I happen to be in a cold place, I can wear my entire wardrobe at once; I will be warm, and my bag will be very light. Tiny pro tip: roll, don't fold.
Don't miss what's next. Subscribe to Curiosity Roving: