BRATTLEBORO — My husband Mark and I are planning to move this year. We are moving from Brattleboro, Vermont, U.S.A., to Central America. Current countries of consideration are Panama and Nicaragua.
We're planning to take an exploratory trip in the fall with a goal of finding a place to lease for three to six months. Then we'll return for the holidays, gather stuff, money, and wits, and return - with or without dogs.
Why?
In no particular order:
• Cost of living: biggie. We love Vermont, and it's cool to live in a Socialist state and enjoy some of the benefits. (Being poor in a Socialist state is the way to go.) But property taxes are staggering, income tax is significant, and the sales tax is ... well, taxing. Prices are high, and wages are low.
A Vermont bumper sticker sums it up: Moonlight in Vermont ... or starve.
The places we are visiting have a cost of living of $500 to $1,000 per month. For everything. If you sell your house or have a bit of savings, you could be retiring. Now.
• Culture: I'm through with the Crazybusy. Enough. I'm tired of being surrounded by people who lament, “I don't have time to breathe!”
Dealing with people who can't manage a five-minute conversation in a sitting position with their full attention, who call only on their cell phones, only when they're in the car, at the airport, walking in the produce aisle, or stuck in the waiting room at the doctor's office. People who revere work and subvert play. People who think life's a bitch and then you die.
Vermont people are respectful of your privacy, but to a fault. It's a yearly event to have a casual dinner with someone, and trying to arrange a walk with a friend becomes a practice in diplomacy.
And our society's materialism is beyond disgusting. U.S. folks buy shit, collect shit, store shit, hoard shit, and then leave that shit to their kin, to deal with their shit.
We want to slow down, pare down, and open up. I'm a Jewish, Scorpio, INTJ writer. I need more privacy and introspection like a hole in the head.
There is something scary and wonderful about moving to a place where you will know and interact with your neighbors regularly and possess the things that you use: no more waffle irons, ice cream makers, peach de-fuzzers, tchotchke cabinets, boxes of old cords, and other valuable items that we might need ... someday.
• Food: Fresh corn, beans, mango, papaya, pineapple, citrus, chayote, cilantro, fish, spices, tamales, gallo pinto, batidos, Flor de Caña rum. Gluten-free without even trying. Open markets, and a full week's groceries for $30.
• Health care: I know Obama means well, but logistically, I'll be dead before I reap the benefits of affordable health care. In Central America, health care is about a tenth of your premium - forget a deductible. Pay as you go, or buy private health insurance for about $50 a month.
• Weather and geography: Goodbye to five months of winter. Goodbye to freezing rain and hunting season. Hello, year-round spring climate and gardening. Hello to mountains and beaches and hot springs, all within a few miles. Hello to fishing, every day, says Mark.
• “Third World”: Central America might have its share of difficulties, but we just came off a year of multiple homicides, increased break-ins, fires, earthquakes, tornadoes, and hurricanes. Our neighbor's home was twice broken into and our car was once stolen - from our driveway.
During the hurricane, we lost access to the public road for one week. With freezing rain, we lose access to our road for another month every winter. Every mud season, we lose access to our roads for another month.
Bears visit our compost and have scratched upon our back door. This is Brattleboro, Vt., by the way, not Kuala Lumpur, Quito, or Fairbanks.
• Work: Career has never been our strong suit. We work, and there are aspects of our jobs that are pleasurable, but let's just say that one does not bound out of bed to fulfill one's destiny at 402 Stark Rd. One never has.
Now, technically, we could retire when we're down there. But then, the delicious happens: you ask yourself, how do you want to fill your time?
* * *
“How do you want to fill your time?” That is the question.
For the past decade, I've taught at Landmark College, in Putney, for students with learning disabilities. I teach a freshman orientation class that teaches students how to learn. It also teaches emotionally beat-up kids a way to love academics and feel confident in the classroom, maybe for the first time in their lives.
One student comes to mind. A very sweet, shy, and respectful young man, with medium-brown hair and a slight build, Colin was failing my class, so we met one day to discuss the situation.
We began discussing strategies to improve his grade. Colin knew exactly what to say. There was no trace of joy or enthusiasm in his voice. There was also no trace of anger or indignation. His voice and tone were ... void.
I suddenly stopped myself in mid-sentence and, uncharacteristically, asked him a question.
“Colin, are you happy?”
“Huh?” he looked up for the first time.
“Are you happy here?”
“What do you mean?”
“What I mean is...”
I stopped and asked him the question we are never to ask students who come to Landmark: “Colin, why are you here?”
“Uh. What? What do you mean, Mrs. C?”
“Colin, why are you here?”
“Uhm. I'm here. To. You know. Go to college.”
“Hmm. Yes, I get that. But, do you want to be here?”
“Uh. Well, my dad thinks -”
“Colin, I'm not asking you what your dad thinks. Let me ask it another way. What do you love?”
Colin straightened up and his eyes shone. He looked right at me.
“Music. I love music. I play the drums. I love playing the drums. I wanna go to Los Angeles and join this band that my friend started up,” he said.
“I've always wanted to be a musician and I love playing music, but my dad says there's no money in that, and that I should go to school and get my bachelor's degree first, and then I can pursue music, 'cause since it's really unlikely that I'll make it, then I'll have a backup plan to fall back on.”
Maybe it was all the Life 101 and Do it! Get off your Buts! books I had been reading. Maybe Martha Beck had been Steering my Starlight for too long. Maybe Carolyn Myss probed and prodded that fourth chakra a bit too hard.
I never said what I was about to say to a student before. I looked directly at him.
“Colin, I like you. You're a nice boy, but you're shit as a student. I've never met someone who wanted to be here less. I'm going to tell you something that we are never supposed to tell a student. If I were you, I'd get the hell out of here. Leave college and go play the drums.
“Colin, there are only so many hours in a week. You've got about 40 to 60 hours a week to devote to your work. You can spend that working on Plan A or Plan B.
“So, what are you gonna do - bust your ass at school for the next five years, getting your bachelor's degree, and then, when you're 27, then go try to make it as a musician? Compete with a bunch of 22 year-olds, then?
“Life is short, Colin. We can always settle for Plan B. There is always an opportunity to do the thing we don't want to do.
“Do yourself a favor, and get the hell out now. Go play your drums, Colin. And, if your dad freaks out, give him my email.”
Colin did leave Landmark, after that semester. He emailed me a few months later, telling me he moved to Los Angeles and joined his friend's band.
You may be wondering, “Did he make it?” And, my reply to you is, who gives a shit? He went to Los Angeles to play the drums.
He made it.
* * *
And so, Mark and I are working on our own Plan A. Our journey is beginning.
So are we delusional? No. Dumb? Maybe.
Risks involve a dream, a leap, some sacrifices, and some unknowns.
Some risks are worth taking. Is this one of them?