Until not too long ago, as long as you got married and had children, you could fantasise about whatever you wanted. If later in life these fantasies became urges, you’d find a way to deal with them, without fuss, of course. And this is the exact situation which the hostess in the film finds herself in, as a married woman of forty years or so, who loves her husband but dreams of a passionate love affair, although she declares it’s too late for her.
Vicky and Cristina, on the other hand, have time on their side and live in a society that cries out for excitement. The internet, cinema, soaps, magazines, books, music – they all lead us to believe there’s no sense in living a life which isn’t full of excitement 24/7. And where do we find this perpetual pleasure? If we look for it in marriage alone, we renounce the alternatives; but there’s no guarantee we will find what we want if we seize each opportunity that presents itself. And what exactly are we looking for? In a world where everybody appears to be having more fun than we are, we seem to be going after everything we can’t have.
Woody Allen said that he wanted to invoke sadness with Vicky Cristina Barcelona, but despite the melancholic feeling of the film, Allen is charming and funny and manages, as always, to show that our ego wants the impossible – unending intensity. But we don’t learn our lesson and we keep trying.
The School of Life
I heard that the author Alain de Botton was attracting attention with a school that he set up in London, called the School of Life. This is something more ambitious than his books: namely, a course on how to live wisely that teaches day-to-day living in a more practical and creative way, unlike traditional schools, which in the majority teach things that may never be useful.
The project is unorthodox, but interesting. The School of Life wants to make an impact in the way we live here and now, and give priority to more exciting subjects than quantum physics and biochemistry. He designed his school with art, philosophy and good humour in mind, and together with his team, he helps students find answers to their personal questions. Do I really need to be in a relationship? How can I use my time wisely? I hate my job, what shall I do? Where do our political beliefs come from? How can we make the most of our trips to museums, cinemas and theatres? How do we deal with the fear of death? Are all families as strange as mine?
In a breezy description such as this he could be taken for a fraud, but if you’ve read Alain de Botton’s books you will know that he is a master of mixing all kinds of topics – travel, love, architecture – and he finds support for his views in the work of many other writers. He’s found a niche and is using it to good advantage, especially when we’re living through times where having a career and a family doesn’t seem enough to gratify our restless souls. We want more pleasure, more independence, and more beauty. Can college or university help us to achieve this? If self-tuition isn’t for you, Alain de Botton invites you to sit on a school bench and learn with the likes of Proust, Baudelaire, Churchill, Lao Tse and other eggheads, all there to brighten your mind.
I went to his shop near Russel Square where you can find posters and information about the courses, plus a wide range of books selected by The School of Life Bibliotherapy Service. Reading about matters that trouble you can be helpful, and we aren’t talking about self-help books here, but works of literature, philosophy and biography. Perhaps all this is a way of self-promotion, but I like the idea. We are in great need of some reinforcement in our curriculum. Physics, biology, history, maths and other traditional subjects aren’t enough. We also need to become more cultured, learn how to live better with one another and to have a less conservative view of the world around us. And for that we need to make use of these resources – knowing how to live well is also part of a good education.
When God Appears
I have many friends who are believers. One of them, who is like a sister to me, sent me a very poetic email about a Nelson Freire* concert she recently went to. Overtaken by emotion during the performance, she ended the email with the words, “In moments like this, God appears.”
This sentence kept whirling around in my head for a while. It’s true that God isn’t showing up very often these days. Instead, He chooses the moments in which He will appear. Being invisible to the eye, He chooses our emotions. I’m not a churchgoer, but I do appreciate His manifestations, like the arrival of an eminent guest who brings peace to my soul.
When does God appear to you?
To me, He appears through music – and it doesn’t need to be Nelson Freire’s. It can be a pop song that comes on at just the right moment; when I need to reconcile with myself. In an unexpected way, music transcends all my boundaries.
God often appears to me in literature, in transcendent passages barely touched by human hands.
He appears to me when I walk by the sea. About a month ago we had a long conversation with only the waves between us. We get on well amidst the blue, which would be His colour, if He had one.
God also appears to me – and don’t take this as heresy – during sex with someone I love, which is different from casual sex. Please note, I said different; it doesn’t mean it’s any less satisfying.
Right now, I’m listening to ‘My Sweet Lord’ – not sung by George Harrison (may he rest in peace) – but by Billy Preston (may he also rest in peace), and I can assure you the lyrics sound like a lively chat with Him, rock ‘n’ roll and all. Hallelujah.
God appears to me when I cry. When I feel vulnerable and unable to get back on my feet. When a friend calls me from far away and seems to be closer than my next door neighbour. God appears in my nephew’s smile, in my daughter’s embrace, and in my mum’s worries for me – because our mum is proof of His presence.
And when I feel He understands all that, that’s when I know for certain that He really is with me.
*Nelson Freire is a renowned Brazilian classical pianist.
What If…?
Anyone who’s read the disturbing We Need To Talk About Kevin, knows that the author, Lionel Shriver, is an expert in exploring the psychological reasons behind our actions, no matter how trivial they may seem, and in giving evidence that these actions will bring predictable, as well as unpredictable results. In another one of her books, The Post-Birthday World, she tells the story of Irina, a woman in a stable long-term relationship who one day feels an uncontrollable desire to kiss another man. To make matters worse, this man is a friend of hers and of her companionable partner. From then on the book runs two parallel stories, one of Irina’s life if she gives in to her erotic impulse, and another if she represses her desire.
The author could have kept her narration only on how the action of kissing someone for the first time has the power to change everything. But she was smarter, and also explored the fact that leaving things as they are has the power to transform our lives as well. We imagine that if we always stay in the same place, take no action, don’t change anything, we can guarantee a safe future. Fastened in the same seat forever we feel protected from any possible turbulence.
Shush. Quiet. Keep still, and so you won’t awake your inner demons. It’s a strategy, but a flawed one. People around us will always play a part in our destiny. Whether we undergo a radical change or stay in our routines – and here is the troubling point – the world around us will still change our cards in this game called everyday life.
When someone does something socially unacceptable, to kiss another man when they are married, as in this book for instance, anything can happen, including nothing. Some might fall in love, leave their husband, have a passionate love affair, which in turn becomes a nightmare and then try to get back with their husband, who’s now in love with the next door neighbour. Or they will have that kiss but instead of beginning a romance, they will go back home bored and nothing will change. It was just a stupid and meaningless thing of no consequence. But life will bring other surprises, it always does.
Extraordinarily, in spite of all evidence to the contrary, we still think we can predict our future. We mak
e endless plans, we go to fortune tellers and consult horoscopes. But what for? No matter which path we choose there will always be ups and downs. If we look at our lives closely we’ll always ask “What if…?” The other choice could have been better, or worse, who knows. So the best thing to do is to enjoy the choices we’ve made, let them go when it’s necessary, direct and redirect our journey, laugh and cry, believe and doubt, because in the future everything will make sense. Some lives may be sad, others wasted, but in a broader sense no life is worthless.
Getting Past the Greetings
Years ago, when I went to the gym, I sometimes saw a photographer I knew only by sight. I’d say hello, she’d say hello. After a while I started walking in the park instead. Every now and then she walked there too. I’d say hello, she’d say hello. This occasional exchange of greetings just about summed up our relationship.
However, we had a friend in common and when I told her I was going to London she mentioned that her friend Eneida, the photographer, would be there at the same time. She asked if I wanted her email.
To cut a long story short, I wrote to Eneida, who was already in London. “Are you coming to London? Great! Would you like to get together sometime? Perfect!” We exchanged addresses and phone numbers. All that made me think that despite living in the same town, possibly the same neighbourhood, since we kept bumping into each other, it never occurred to me to invite her to dinner. I believe the reason is quite simple: we were strangers to one another. She has her life, I have mine. She has a tight schedule, so do I. No one invites someone to dinner just because they know them by sight, unless it’s a crush, which isn’t the case here.
The case here is this: we are a perfect example of how a foreign country can set home formalities aside. In our town we cling to our habits and relationships, but when we are abroad we relax and naturally feel more open to other ideas, to new habits and to meeting new people – sometimes people we could have met at home, but didn’t see the need to.
When we travel we feel more inclined to take risks, and to experience new things. We contemplate having bacon for breakfast, we go shopping by bike, we sleep on the grass, we eat strange food, we drive on the other side of the road, we use public toilets, we confide in people we have never seen before. Our passports not only admit us to other countries but also other lifestyles, more relaxed than the ones we are used to.
I’m writing this on the Eurostar, the train that crosses beneath the English Channel. I left London this morning and I’m on my way to Paris where I’ll catch my flight back to Brazil next weekend. I have had dinner with Eneida. Whether we become friends or not misses the point; the point is that we are past the greetings, a protocol that rarely goes any further than a brief hello. There are many reasons why I like to travel, but for today the happiness I feel for simply being alive, and the sense of adventure I get, are my top two.
Everybody?
I’ve been meaning to talk about it for some time but I wasn’t sure how to approach the subject. In actual fact, I’m still not sure. It’s about this expression “everybody”. Who is “everybody”? Everybody wants a life of endless pleasure, everybody is driven by sheer greed, and everybody hides behind a façade of happiness. Is it really true that we – me, you, all of us – live off appearances and have superficial lives?
We have this tendency to draw a general conclusion from information we gather here and there, to reinforce an idea that we think is universal. I do that myself sometimes, I generalise to justify my opinion about something. But let’s explore this assumption carefully: Are all women you know consumed by their looks? Are they all throwing their money on the latest facial cream? Are they all like empty shells with no intellect? Not a bit of it. I know many women who are intelligent, who aren’t overly concerned about their appearance, and who don’t torment themselves about looking younger than their age. Likewise, I know many men who are also intelligent, who don’t spend all their spare hours of the day at the gym, and who don’t cheat on their partners. This “everybody” is a fraud. There are still lots of people who haven’t lost sight of their principles and who aren’t willing to be part of this generalisation of a crumbling society.
What I mean is, many of us still favour the simple things in life, many of us don’t resort lightly to plastic surgery and aren’t obsessed about being popular. There are many people who don’t invest all their money in designer clothes and who haven’t been part of any research that claims that everybody is shallow. We are amused by TV programmes, by tabloids, by soaps, yet they aren’t a true representation of the world. They only represent a small fragment of society that needs the spotlight to satisfy its ego. But behind the curtains there’s an ocean of individuals who are free from the pressures of appearances. The real “everybody” is vast, huge. It’s not reduced to half a dozen people who conform to the stereotypes dictated by magazines. Has our ability to think independently and creatively ceased to exist? Not a chance. I refuse to believe that everybody is dull and foolish. I’m not romanticising that our society is diverse, indeed it is diverse.
Enough of insisting on this idea that everybody is self-centred and has no substance, that society is hopeless. There’s a massive number of people out there who enjoy the sunset, who couldn’t care less for pretence and who value peace of mind above all else. Enough of this misconception sold by the media which we are made to take in as if it represents all of us. There are a lot of stupid people among us, but not as yet “everybody”.
The Best Thing That Never Happened
Before the actor Daniel Craig was confirmed as the first blonde James Bond, in 2006, there were rumours that Clive Owen was to play the role. In an interview Owen said that this was the best thing that never happened to him. The more he denied the rumours, the more people talked about him. He played it to his advantage. What he said was so clever that I will leave the handsome actor aside and move on to this question: what’s the best thing that never happened to you?
I think, for me, it happened when I was fourteen. I was going to Disneyland, Florida, with my family and I was so excited that I could hardly sleep. It would be my first time in a foreign country! However, as our departure approached the government added some kind of tax on trips abroad. The dream was over. The brand new passports were put away, never to be seen again. I could hardly sleep, this time with disappointment.
I’d spend the holidays at home. However I knew that some of my friends were going on a school trip to Bahia, in the North-East of Brazil. I thought that swapping Mickey Mouse for the Pelourinho* would be a consolation. It was certainly inexpensive in comparison to Florida. A bus trip to Salvador – unmissable! So I begged and pleaded and got the last place. I was in. The result couldn’t have been better: my friends and I became a lot closer and some of those friendships remain today. Disneyland was the best thing that never happened to me.
I’m sitting here wondering what’s the best thing that never happened to you. Breaking up a long relationship just before stepping up to the altar – not getting married may have been the best thing that never happened to you, for who knows what fate had in store for you instead… Or perhaps you didn’t get that dream job, never received that phone call, never found that something that kept you trapped in the past – was that the best thing that never happened to you? It’s curious to think that where you are today isn’t only the result of what you did, but also of what you didn’t. When we look at life from this angle our perspective changes. We no longer see defeat, which is no small thing in a world where so many cultivate the failures they’ve accumulated in life. Between you and me, to travel from the South of Brazil all the way to the North-East by bus to spend only three days – and find it wonderful – is strong evidence that an open mind makes all the difference.
*Salvador, the capital of Bahia, is known for its iconic Pelourinho neighbourhood, rich with 17th-century colonial architecture and perched above the beaches surrounding Baia de Todos los Santos.
Me
The other day I woke up feeling as if I had an identity crisis: it felt like a hangover, as if I was intoxicated. I needed to figure out what was weighing on my mind. I knew my problem wasn’t excessive drinking, or partying, my excess was myself.
I suspect this has happened to you as well at some point. Sometimes we feel the side effects of this overdose of us. Inescapably, since we are born, we are sentenced to coexist with ourselves. When I think of how long I’ve been stuck with my own presence I’m baffled by how I endure such a clingy relationship. Myself and I, day in, day out, the only relationship which is indeed forever.
I’ve been listening to a Uruguayan band called Cuarteto de Nos. Their lyrics are amusing and sarcastic. One of the songs, Me amo (I love myself), talks humorously about this age of narcissism in which we are living. The character in the song doesn’t listen to anyone and can’t imagine the world without himself. He has many dates, but none worthy of him. He’s in good company, alone. Soy mi pareja perfecta (I’m my perfect match).
Maybe that’s why we get into crisis mode, we assume we are a couple. Only in my case, I’m a conflicted couple: one wants to escape, the other wants to stay; one has one point of view, the other disagrees; one likes solitude, the other wants to love. In essence, I have a rather chaotic relationship – myself and I it seems, are ill-matched.
I think, to have a more balanced relationship with ourselves we need to pay somewhat less attention to that inner voice we have, and recognise we are single and flawed. We can only live more enjoyable lives if we stop being so self-consumed and start looking outside our bubble. We waste far too long thinking about our image, our achievements, and our ego. Until one day we wake up feeling suffocated, sick, discouraged, and without any patience to sustain the act. We get tired of self-imposed expectations, of unrealistic goals, of constantly facing the mirror whilst turning our backs on the world.
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