Cowboy Hat Tortola Continued (in which the word Ubiquitous is bandied recklessly about)
I am guilty of the vanity of considering myself something of a world traveler. Or at least a veteran traveler: Able and willing to adapt, eager for experience, open to and understanding of differences, and of course, well-liked in such settings as a result.
This is a vanity born of early travel: By 12 I had been to Ireland 14 times, as well as Peru and Hawaii. The trips were personal visits to relatives, and you can soon feel superior to 'those tourists' on 'package tours'. Sometimes I think the travel itself, the rituals of airports and customs and time zones and idle chatter with different folks is as exciting as the in-country travel. All of this gave me an advanced perspective compared to my other 5th grade friends.
Somehow this attitude of enlightenment has stuck with me even though I am among 5th graders no more.
It's a bit silly really. I need only look to Traveler's rather more extensive experiences to remind me that mine are really limited to Ireland. Sure, I've been all over, but not extensively. Because I succeed swimmingly in Ireland, I convince myself I am a world cultural success.
Enter Tortola.
Beautiful BVI vacation spot hardly makes for convincing world traveler testing ground. This only makes our foibles there, and there were a few, all the more ridiculous.
Let's start with the World Traveler Corollary Vanity: Disdain for Souvenirs. Pooh-pooh to tourist bling. I am of the cultural experience, I don't want a tacky, fake, artifact of it. Man.
This is all a precursor to the purchase of the Cowboy Hat. Talk about an item that not only has nothing to do with Tortola, but with me or my life. It resonates affectation!
But it is vivid presence in our encounter with Tortola. Many of the white yachties, and other tourists on the docks and beaches sported them. I would almost call them ubiquitous.
This is what initially put it into my own head to get one on it. Because despite my obstinate nature I am actually a too-easily influenced namby-pamby.
I wanted Cowboy Hat.
And I thought I'd look good in one , too . . . Memory of pictures you have just viewed on this blog: Erase erase erase.
posted by Borderliner at 11:19 AM
5 Comments:
Hey, I think you look quite dashing in the cowboy hat...
Most of the traveling I've done I didn't realize that I had done it until I was back in the City of Champions. Maybe I should've never left the Cod.
The last couple trips I had taken, to Brussels and Luxembourg, and once in Boston, actually, I got on the tourist bus and saw all of the sites from the window. Then the next days I took the time to revisit what I wanted to really see. I thought I could bring myself to do it because no one would know me and no one of consequence would ever know (until you admit it in a blog). I have to admit that I had a good time and learned a lot on those buses. I never thought traveling the "regular" way would work for me, but it did.
Maybe we could all do a leaf-peeping tour on one of those big old buses up in Vermont. You can wear your cowboy hat so nobody will know where you're truly from. I'll get one of those earflap hats and tell everyone I'm from Maine. Cornelius can diguise himself as a Lillipudlian.
No, wait, we already did that in high school, huh?
Lillipudlian?
In high school I had a hat collection. It started when I was younger, and I was never proud of it. I had a cowboy hat, some kind of Australian camoflaged cowboy hat, some kind of leather non-cowboy hat that either indians or chinese factory workers made, a fez (and no, I'm never gonna do it without the fez on...) and about a dozen baseball hats that were cheap and covered with stupid logos I cannot remember.
I never could pull off a look that was different from my everyday. I think you had to commit to a look, and I could never really pull one off because I could never really buy into much of anything.
When I was in the band I remember an old man at the bar telling us we had to get a look. Pointing at me he said "...and that guy looks like he just came in from mowing the lawn...". I borrowed a cowboy hat one night and someone said I looked like Edge. We took pictures. I saw one of the pictures a few years ago and noticed that I looked uncomfortable in the hat. No buy-in.
When I went to Oxford one summer to study English poets we had a cocktail party the first night. It was a get together with the Dons as kind of a "get to know you" kickoff. I don't think there was any beer. In fact, it may have just been brandy they offered us. Not sure what that was about. Anyway, in discussing culture with the Don I would study under (she was divorced from Wordsworth's great grandson, or some such thing), I proudly stated that I was English. I meant that my bloodline was English, that my grandfather had emigrated and that I had been raised in a home with many elements of English culture. She looked a little bothered and said, "but aren't you American?". I and my classmates explained the strong part that our family history and culture played in our lives. I think she lost interest, but not before telling me I was the most authentically English looking member of the group. Still not sure if that was a compliment.
Anyway, I tossed the hat collection when I moved out of my parent's house. Years later I have a John Deere tractor and a nice John Deere basball cap they sent me as a gift for buying it. The hat is kelly green, and I wear it all the time with my T-shirt, shorts and grass-stained sneakers. I guess I still look like I just came in from mowing the lawn. But it's an awfully nice hat and the tractor runs great. I think I finally have buy-in.
Surely you've read Gulliver's Travels, no?
Yes, I think I read exerpts from it in an Anthology, but even that was rushed. I recognized the reference, but little more than that. It is a cool name, though. Were they the little people that tied him down?
Yes, they were. You could pass for one if you had the right hat.
Post a Comment
<< Home