The big joke among farang lifers is going native. Some farangs, when living in the village, embrace the Walden Pond lifestyle and stay put, start growing things, and listening to Thai music (highly repetitive). The life style is more akin to the time I spent at my family's cottage on Palmerston Lake about 90 minutes from Ottawa.
Walden (first published as Walden; or, Life in the Woods), by noted transcendentalist Henry David Thoreau, is a reflection upon simple living in natural surroundings. The work is part personal declaration of independence, social experiment, voyage of spiritual discovery, satire, and (to some degree) manual for self-reliance. Thoreau also used this time to write his first book, A Week on the Concord and Merrimack Rivers.
First published in 1854, Walden details Thoreau's experiences over the course of two years, two months, and two days in a cabin he built near Walden Pond, amidst woodland owned by his friend and mentor Ralph Waldo Emerson, near Concord, Massachusetts. The book compresses the time into a single calendar year and uses passages of four seasons to symbolize human development.
By immersing himself in nature, Thoreau hoped to gain a more objective understanding of society through personal introspection. Simple living and self-sufficiency were Thoreau's other goals, and the whole project was inspired by transcendentalist philosophy, a central theme of the American Romantic Period. (from Wikipedia)
My time at our cottage, from about 10 years of age to 20, was a time of enjoyment and exploration as I grew from a child to an adult. There was ample time for reflection but mostly it was just enjoyment and self discovery as I grew into my teenage years.
At first, our cottage did not have electricity and when night fell we relied on the tried and true Coleman gas lantern. I quickly became adept at lighting the light. There was no television, but we had cheap Japanese portable radios but the reception was poor except for US stations bouncing off the atmosphere from time to time. We had an old wooden row boat with a 1 horsepower gas motor that we used for fishing (trolling). We had an outhouse at back.
Eventually, over the years, we added an indoor toilet with a septic system, electricity, a real stove, and my own personal speedboat (that my Dad and I built) with a 7.5 hp motor. It did not get any better, or so I thought. A young boy and his boat, a big lake to explore, but it did. Dad added a 50 hp boat and water skiing became a passion. I soon gravitated to slalom and could touch either shoulder down to the water. However, I never did master bare foot skiing as the boat could not tow me at over 35 mph which is required.
From 16 years old, I spent whole summers at the cottage with teenage friends. We had little money, but we would raid the farmers' fields, stealing carrots, corn, etc. At night, we would wake up at 3 am and steal down to the rented cottages and siphon gas out of the cars to use for water skiing the next day. Many the night we spent burping gas, but we were rewarded the next day, inviting the girls of the parents whose gas we stole the night before, to go water skiing. So much fun, if only their parents knew!
My best memory of cottage life is the summer of 69 (Thank you Bryan Adams) when my best friend Kerry and I and my GF at the time, spent an idyllic day on the water, skiing and contemplating life just after graduating high school. How naive we were. But, nevertheless, happier than a pig in shit :-), as life was an oyster waiting to be plucked (chucked?)!
So what does cottage life have in common with village life? They were both simple lifestyles, where you live in the present, and basic needs are met. Relationships are important and you are confidant that the future will look after itself.
What is different? Well, village life provides me with a high speed internet connection and I am more cognizant of what is happening in the world than ever, as I have lots of time on my hands. I can also stay in contact with friends, with this blog, eMail, LINE, Viber, and WhatsApp. I really do not like Facebook as I find it so narcissistic.
What are the chances of me going native? Zero percent. My Mother nicknamed me as Walter Mitty, and Walter Mitty I remain!
Mitty is a meek, mild man with a vivid fantasy life. In a few dozen paragraphs he imagines himself a wartime pilot, an emergency-room surgeon, and a devil-may-care killer. Although the story has humorous elements, there is a darker and more significant message underlying the text, leading to a more tragic interpretation of the Mitty character. Even in his heroic daydreams, Mitty does not triumph, several fantasies being interrupted before the final one sees Mitty dying bravely in front of a firing squad. In the brief snatches of reality that punctuate Mitty's fantasies the audience meets well-meaning but insensitive strangers who inadvertently rob Mitty of some of his remaining dignity.
The character's name has come into more general use to refer to an ineffectual dreamer and appears in several dictionaries. The American Heritage Dictionary defines a Walter Mitty as "an ordinary, often ineffectual person who indulges in fantastic daydreams of personal triumphs". The most famous of Thurber's inept male protagonists, the character is considered "the archetype for dreamy, hapless, Thurber Man". (from Wikipedia)
The world awaits ...
TTYL
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