My question may be long-winded because I’m sorting out many issues about my decision to move abroad–to Israel.

Here’s my background:  At 26, after completing two degrees in software and engineering-related fields and working full-time for just over 2 years, I quit my job in San Francisco and bought an around-the-world trip ticket. My friend and I traveled from February through July last year. Nearing the end of my trip, I asked myself what things in my life I wanted to do—thing that if I didn’t do, I would regret on my death bed.  One of them came up as living abroad.

Back from the trip now, working freelance, and living at home, it seems like the perfect time to tackle this dream.

I have been to Israel four times in my life, speak enough Hebrew to get by, but have no relatives there, and just a few friends, none terribly close. I always love it every time, and even tried applying for a Fulbright to move there a few years back.  I’ve done all my research on job opportunities (they exist for people in my field) and the benefits the state offers to Jews who would like to move there. They actually pay you to move, roughly $4500 over the first 7 months, free health insurance until you get a job, and 5 months of Hebrew classes, just to name a few of the benefits.  It seems, by the facts, that this should be a relatively easy decision. But it’s not.

What’s nagging me is whether I am running away from a good thing in the States. I have a great education, and lots of well-paying job opportunities. Though I have a free spirit and crave adventure, I’ve learned this year that stability is really important to me.  Needless to say, the transition home has been very difficult for me as I haven’t yet gotten my independent life back.  So one of my concerns is how long it will take for me to really get settled in Israel, and if it’s a process that I can withstand mentally.

The next concern I have is that I’ve been far away from friends and family for a while, going to college out-of-state and graduate school on the other side of the country. This gives me the independence I need to be successful abroad, but also makes me wonder if it’s a good thing to continue to endure the stress it takes to create a new life each time and to be lonely until the new friends become great friends and pillars of support. Ever since kicking off the process to move to Israel in August, I’ve addressed these concerns each month, to great distraught.

Finally, as a seasoned backpacker and solo female traveler, conquering coco huts in 3rd world countries with the best of them, I find myself torn between my material pleasures and my constant challenge to prove that I can live on less.  Moving to Israel would challenge me and my bank account (while their economy is thriving, Tel Aviv is one of the most expensive cities to live in when you compare the rent to the actual salary earned). When I’m feeling empowered and idealistic, I know that it’s worth it. But when I’m feeling a bit more realistic, I wonder who I feel I need to prove to that I can change my life so drastically. And I do have student loans that I need to continue to pay….

I grow jealous of people who have lived abroad and can speak other languages, but I crave my stability and would like my older friends and close family in my life more.  I feel this yearning to be in Israel, yet this body-encompassing lament that I will do it alone, and feel lonely constantly in debating this decision.  Sometimes I wish someone would tell me to stop being foolish and stay, or visa versa.

Did I just pour my heart out to a stranger?  Any advice would be much appreciated.

Torn between the heart and dreams

_______________________

Dear Heart & Dreams,

Your letter got me thinking, and when I think, I write. But although my reply will no doubt be even more long-winded than your question, I’m not going to tell you what to do. I’ve been in your place, wishing someone would make a hard decision for me. But (as you already know) no one but you can make this call. If I tried, you’d protest that I didn’t have the full picture. And you’d be right. The full picture only takes shape in your own heart, and maybe only in the wee hours of the insomniac morning.

For me, decision-making is infinitely more mysterious than rationally weighing pros and cons. I’ll be obsessing for weeks, maybe even months, and then I’ll see or hear something—a line in a book, a scene in a movie, a snatch of overheard conversation in a café—and suddenly the decision in made. (Note the passive voice—as if the decision is out of my hands—a good strategy when pitching the move-abroad idea to employers and mothers).

I like Steven Johnson’s idea that good ideas (and decisions?) come from the collision of various small hunches, some of them residing in different minds. Here’s a cool animated video of that idea.

But back to your letter. As I read, I found myself nodding, thinking, yes, that’s the crux of it, isn’t it? Or rather the cruxes, as there are many axes on which the move abroad question pivots. I’ve got a few decades on you, and yet I must report that the issues don’t really change as you get older. As a serial relocator I confront similar questions each time I make a move.

The question of how moving abroad affects your relationships is perhaps the thorniest of the issues you raise. I know that when I return after extended travel or living abroad, friends and family are not so quick to let me have my old place in their hearts. Even if they were supportive of my move, their lives have moved on while I was away. They’ve adjusted to my absence, and it may be years before they really believe that I’m back.

And, like you, each time I go I ask myself if I’m running away from ‘real life’ and wonder how many more starting over’s I have in me.

I don’t have answers to these questions, but I do know that each question is a world onto itself, and that even the way we frame the questions betrays an array of assumptions that (for me) are revealed and sometime subverted by brushing away all my fears and making the move abroad.  Let’s take the ‘running away from real life’ question. Is our idea of real life so narrow that it can’t include interruptions of the proscribed life path—school, more school, work, family—that so many of us are on, or think we should be on?  Are we running away or are we lurching towards a life that is far my real than our habit-bound workaday existence, where daily repetition has dulled any sense of wonder or possibility?

Reading the particulars of your situation, I was struck by how you seemed to be trying to talk yourself into (or out of) something. I, for one, have never been paid to move anywhere, and there are often meager job opportunities on offer where I end up. You, on the other hand, would be paid to move to a country you already know you enjoy and where there are jobs in your field. The timing for you seems perfect, as well. With no apartment and no fixed job, you don’t have much to extricate yourself from. You didn’t mention anyone you’d be sorry to leave behind, so I’m assuming there’s no significant other. If there is a sweetheart in the picture, then you’re not telling me (or yourself) the whole story. Sometimes we want that sweetheart (or potential sweetheart) to hold us back from a radical move, to prove that they really care.

Another thing about timing: Often the 20s are considered a time to get travel and living abroad “out of your system,” after which you will presumably settle down and never stir again. But for those who are drawn to new experiences and new cultures, the ‘right time’ will come again and again, at various turning points in your life. Throughout my life I’ve been drawn to travel or living abroad when I need a new perspective, when I feel mired in the everyday, when things are closing in and I can’t see the forest for the trees.

If you’re having serious doubt about a move to Israel right now, it’s not as if this will be your last chance. You could even move to Israel, spend a few months there, and then decide to come back to the US. Would that be so bad?

If we look at the urge to move—to hit the road, get the hell out of Dodge, start fresh—not just as an individual impulse but a global one, we might say that it’s time to stay put and to stop running. Time to stop burning fossil fuels on our own personal long-distance quests. Time to face up to who and where we are, time to get our own house in order.

On the other hand, in most of nature, stasis is not an option. Animals roam far and wide to find food, shelter, and mates. Humans add to that the search for work, for recreation, and for that ineffable quality of brand-newness that reminds us that we’re alive and that the world is, despite all the fiber optics connecting us, a very big place. Big enough to get lost in.

And as the writer Andre Gide says: One doesn’t discover new lands without consenting to lose sight of the shore for a very long time.

Sincerely,

Miss Move Abroad

Q: I have been talking my mother into retiring in Panama . I just bought your book and received it yesterday. I am through half of it and already and skimmed the rest so far… but still have questions.  Are there any fast food chains there such as McDonald’s or KFC?  And for shopping I didn’t see any names of stores I have heard of for basic shopping. I see they have a mall, but what about maybe a WalMart?

I read about pets but have heard many horrific stories contrary to what you wrote about… so for the record, would our dogs be in quarantine or taken from us at any time? We have small dogs would they be in danger in the yard with snakes and large birds?

Also I really love your book so far and am very excited about finishing it. I am ecstatic about moving to Panama and plan a scouting trip next Spring.  I will be traveling alone (female)– how safe is it there to travel alone and do you have any connections for me?

Miriam Butterman answers:

First of all, congratulations for asking some pretty significant questions with relation to your daily life, as this could be your everyday life soon and you will want to be comfortable at every minor level.

I think the first thing you have to understand about moving to Panama is that you are not so much moving to the “sticks” as you think you are. There are plenty of good restaurants that serve American fare, without even having to go to the fast food option (I’m a health nut). If you feel safer with familiar food, there are American chains such as TGIF’s and Benniganns in Panama City. There are  also a lot of McDonald’s and KFC;  Wendy’s is a local favorite and Taco Bell arrived  in 2009. Still, Panama has some great original burger joints, and many other options for all kinds of ethnic fare, including delicious Panamanian food, which is usually grilled fish or meat, (they love chorizos — sausages). The El Rey, Super 99 and Riba Smith grocery stores have plenty of U.S products available. You can stock your kitchen with all the foods you love from home, and you won’t blink an eyelash to being abroad. (Still, be adventurous and shop for some local stuff, Panamanian food is delicious!)

As for shopping, you won’t be at a loss for anything. The malls have a lot of WalMartesque stores. It’s almost overwhelming.  Price Costcos (Price Smart in Panama) has a big presence around Panama City and other major cities in the country. Do-It Center has a big chain of hardware stores in Panama too. Novey and Rodelag are two more big hardware/home stores.

I haven’t shipped my dog to Panama, only from Panama, but I have heard that all animals coming from the US  do have to be quarantined, and often times this can be a home quarantine. I don’t want to give you misinformation, so I highly suggest calling Panama Pet Relocation when you are there, or emailing them. Your dog will not be with any wild snakes or birds.

Traveling alone is okay, as long as you are smart and prepared with your transportation arrangements and your arrival info on hand. In the interior, you might want to be a little more careful (women especially), but if you have your destination known and a trusted person to contact when you get there you should be fine.

You really need to know what you want and where you are going before you get there. In Panama, you can be adventurous, but I don’t know how experienced a traveler you are. If you rent a car and drive towards the Pacific beaches, you’ll be fine. Start with locations such as the Santa Clara beach just off the Pan American Highway, the road is one long highway and you can’t get lost. The entrance to the beach is clearly marked about one hour and 25 minutes west of Panama City.   You can’t miss it and it is always populated. From there you’ll begin talking to others and you’ll start to get your bearings and probably some great recommendations while on the road. .

Scout out carefully where you want to be and what kind of a community you are looking to be around. Do you want a gated community, with a lot of expat presence, or do you want to get to know other Panamanians and /or live more freely in nature, along the beach or in the mountains? These are questions you have to ask yourself before, during, and after your scouting trip.

I think my book does a pretty good job of detailing each of the prime areas to live in for expats and how you might go about doing that. As for contacts, I think the best thing you can do is to contact a realtor and from there you will start to unravel some connections. In Panama City, it is a good idea to start off at the NY Bagel Cafe  just off Via Argentina, as a lot of expats hang out there.

If you are looking to settle in the mountains or the interior within two hours of Panama City, you might want to stop at a bed and breakfast called Los Nances in El Valle. It’s a cute hotel on the side of the valley and the owners (Bill and Adam Brunner, father and son) also have a lot of real estate knowledge. The hotel has been under renovation for a while, and their website is not up, but the telephone is (507) 983-6126. Also see  Living Abroad in Panama.

Best of luck on your scouting trip.

Photo of hammock by Miriam Butterman

There’s a great passage about the difference between being a born traveler and a born expat in Committed, Elizabeth Gilbert’s sequel to her astonishingly successful travel memoir, Eat, Pray, Love.

Committed is a skeptic’s look at marriage from all angles, sparked by Gilbert’s decision to wed Felipe, the Brazilian man she meets in Bali at the end of Eat Pray Love. (Javier Bardem plays Felipe in the upcoming movie, which almost makes up for Julia Roberts playing Gilbert.)

The eight chapters of Committed have titles like “Marriage and History,” “Marriage and Ceremony,’ and “Marriage and Subversion.” The event that started Gilbert’s exhaustive look at this hallowed and maligned institution was that she and her boyfriend Felipe were pushed into marriage because the U.S. Department of Homeland Security suddenly decides that Felipe can no longer enter the U.S. Now if she were married to a U.S. citizen, suggests a friendly Homeland Security agent, things might be easier…

But the official hoops they have to jump through and the strains it puts in their relationship are anything but easy.

Gilbert’s experience mirrors some of what I’ve been through—marrying for immigration purposes to a foreign-born lover you’re already committed to, so hey, Why not make it legal so that your lives are easier in the face of capricious and punishing laws? And then the fun (aka trouble) begins, especially if you both have different ideas of just what marriage means.

Although the book is a kaleidoscopic exploration of just that–what marriage means–I’m not finding what I was looking for in Committed. For my tastes, there’s not enough about cross-cultural relationships, or about how a relationship can change (and not always for the better) when you make it official. But of course that’s not the book Gilbert set out to write, so I can’t really fault her for not writing what I most want to read. As many writers have noted, when you don’t find what you want to read, well, then go write it yourself!

What I did find in Committed, on pages 216 – 221, was a sharply drawn description of the differences between a born traveler and a born live-abroader.

Here’s the background: Gilbert and Felipe, her Brazilian honey, are homeless, waiting to have his visa approved so they can both return to the U.S. and start building a life there together. They’re wandering through Southeast Asia, and after six months of such travel and of being with each other night and day, tempers are fraying. Gilbert has been hurrying them from one cheap hotel room to the next, trying to keep their anxiety at bay, when she realizes that that technique doesn’t seem to work for her partner. Gilbert writes:

“Like a fussy baby who can fall asleep in a moving car, I have always been comforted with the tempo of travel. I’d always assumed that Felipe operated on the same principle; since he was the most widely traveled person I’ve ever met. But he didn’t seem to enjoy any of this drifting.

…The reality about Felipe, as I was beginning to realize, is that he’s both the best traveler I’ve ever met and by far the worst. He hates strange bathrooms and dirty restaurants and uncomfortable trains and foreign beds—all of which pretty much define the act of traveling. Given a choice, he will always select a lifestyle of routine, familiarity, and reassuringly boring everyday practices. All of which might make you assume that the man is not fit to be a traveler at all.

But you would be wrong to assume that, for here is Felipe’s traveling gift, his superpower, the secret weapon that renders him peerless: He can create a familiar habitat of reassuringly boring everyday practices for himself anyplace, if you just let him stay in one spot. He can assimilate absolutely anywhere on the planet in the space of about three days, and then he’s capable of staying put in that place for the next decade or so without complaint.

This is why Felipe has been able to live all over the world. Not merely travel, but live. Over the years, he has folded himself into societies from South American to Europe, from the Middle East to the South Pacific. He arrives somewhere utterly new, decides he likes the place, moves right in, learns the language, and instantly becomes a local.”

So how about you? Are you more of a traveler, like Gilbert, or a born expat, like Felipe?

Photo by Erin Van Rheenen

Here’s the trailer:

For those three or four people who’ve never heard of Eat, Pray, Love, suffice to say that it’s self-realization and travel porn for the thinking woman.

Despite my reservations, I won’t be able to resist seeing the film anymore than I could resist reading the book. Critics were less than kind. Maureen Callahan called the book “narcissistic New Age reading.” Lev Grossman said the author was “trying too hard to be liked.” Grace Lichtenstein said the only thing wrong with the book is that “it seems so much like a Jennifer Aniston movie.”

I agree with all of those critics, and yet I tore through Eat, Pray, Love, reveling in Gilbert’s incisive descriptions of far-flung locales and internal states, spouting select quotes to my friends, and giving the book as a gift to more than one (woman) friend. Gilbert is compulsively readable, and if afterwards I felt a little queasy about the fast food feast I’d just wolfed down, in the midst of the meal I thought I was absorbing valuable nutrients.

And the film? Well, Javier Bardem plays Felipe, the Brazilian guy Gilbert falls for in Bali. I’ll go just to hear how a Spaniard tackles a Brazilian accent.

She ran a campaign that declared her “firme y honesta” — firm and honest — and promised more doctors in the state-run medical clinics and more police officers on the streets. She is a social conservative who opposes gay marriage and abortions, though she favors civil rights for gays and birth control.

Chinchilla, 50, is married with one teenaged son. She will take office in May, becoming Costa Rica’s first female president and Latin America’s fifth in the last two decades. The other four are Argentina’s Cristina Kirchner, who was elected in 2007, Chile’s Michelle Bachelet, elected in 2006, Panama’s Mireya Moscoso, elected in 1999, and Nicaragua’s Violeta Chamorro, elected in 1990.

Interesting that Costa Rica, a supposedly “third world” and  “macho” country, elected a woman president, while a first world country where the sky’s supposedly the limit (the US of A) lags behind in the gender equity department. Speaking of third world, Chinchilla recently asked, “Who gets to decide if a country is deemed “developing” or “developed?” Interesting question. Chinchilla thinks Costa Rica qualifies as the latter.

Click here for election photos and here for a truly bizarre campaign video from one of Chinchilla’s competitors in the Presidential race. A middle-aged man naked except for a diaper cavorts among pregnant women singing a takeoff on the 60s classic, “I will follow him.”

This week, California Governor Arnold Schwarzenegger suggested that the state might outsource incarceration by opening prisons in Mexico in order to house jailed undocumented immigrants.

Sfgate.com reports the governor saying, “We pay them to build the prisons down in Mexico and then we have those undocumented immigrants be down there in a prison. … And all this, it would be half the cost to build the prisons and half the cost to run the prisons.”

Of the state’s 171,000 prisoners, approximately 19,000 are illegal immigrants. The state spends more than $8 billion a year on the prison system. Schwarzenegger predicted housing prisoners in Mexico instead of California would save the state $1 billion that could be spent on higher education.

The idea has a certain logic: Under the terms of the 1977 Prisoner Transfer Treaty between the United States and Mexico, United States prisoners in Mexican jails and Mexican prisoners in United States jails may choose to serve their sentences in their home countries.

But there’s a definite taint of “let’s send the illegals back where they came from” anti-immigrant sentiment in the governor’s comment. Beyond that, it’s just a very odd idea. When one breaks the law within a given set of borders, it makes sense to be punished within the limits of that same country. Each country has its own philosophy of crime and punishment. Mexico tends to have longer waits for sentencing, for instance, but shorter prison terms.

And though there’s no yelp.com for prisons around the world, it’s pretty clear that Mexican prisons aren’t known to be models of modern and humane incarceration.

An analysis of Mexican prison conditions (drawing from The Library of Congress Country Studies and the CIA World Factbook) concludes that “overcrowding of prisons is chronic. Mistreatment of prisoners, the lack of trained guards, and inadequate sanitary facilities compound the problem. The United States Department of State’s country reports on human rights practices for 1992 and 1993 state that an entrenched system of corruption undermines prison authority and contributes to abuses. Authority frequently is exercised by prisoners, displacing prison officials. Violent confrontations, often linked to drug trafficking, are common between rival prison groups.

In fact, just this week, a prison riot in the Mexican state of Durango left 23 inmates dead.

Female inmates in Mexican prisons are allowed to have their children under 5 live with them in prison. Photo: Caroline Bennett

Not that Mexico suffers in every prison-related comparison. The U.S. enjoys the dubious distinction of having the highest incarceration rate in the world. And Mexico has some prison policies that are more humane than those in the U.S. For example, women inmates are allowed to have their children under 5 live with them in prison. The Huffington Post recently published a photo essay on Mexican Prison Life: Babies Behind Bars.

Even if the prisons in Mexico were built and run by the U.S., Schwarzenegger ‘s idea would still be problematic. Donald Specter, director of the Prison Law Office, said it “would be like the state of California having a separate island of its own government in Mexico. It just seems like that would be impossible.”

The not-so-sweet spot where privatization meets outsourcing

Schwarzenegger’s suggestion sits at the intersection of privatization and outsourcing. Earlier this month, our my-governor-can-beat-up-your-governor called for allowing private companies to compete with state-run prisons, which he claims would save billions of dollars.

And beyond privatization, it seems that in this era of free trade in a global economy, everything’s on the table for possible outsourcing: manufacturing, telephone help centers, retirement, medical care, and now, imprisonment.

What’s next—the outsourcing of education? Maybe public school would be more viable if you only had to pay teachers a few dollars an hour. And how about outsourcing funeral services? We could send our loved ones abroad for cut-rate embalming, Fed Ex them back to the local cemetery, then hire illegal immigrants to help us mourn.

She’d been very active in a few local nonprofits, and she scaled back her commitments, quitting boards and letting people know that she’d be putting her energies elsewhere for a time.

And dammit if she didn’t write that book! In a year. I’m beyond envious—I’m positively inspired. I keep looking at little huts on the side of the road or up on top of mountains, thinking, Now there’s a good place to hole up and write.

The book is Evelio’s Garden: A Memoir of Costa Rica. It centers around a garden on her land on the shores of Lake Arenal, an organic garden a longtime friend, Evelio, tries to create out of nothing. Evelio is a local, born and bred in the Arenal area, and he has a natural talent for planting and tending. But trying to garden organically, and on a plot ravaged by the winds off the lake, turns out to be more than he–and Sandy, as his enabler/landlord/cheerleader–bargained for.

Sandy describes the ups and downs of the gardening project, but more than that, she details how the achingly beautiful land around the lake is at risk of devastation. Not incidentally, a portrait of expat life emerges, as we learn of Sandy’s neighbors from Europe and North America and Costa Rica and see how they all coexist, sometimes peaceably, sometimes contentiously.

It’s a book about how we live on the land, how it nourishes us and how we should nourish it. It’s beautifully written and has a strong sense of place. I’m honored that Sandy let me read it and that she’s allowing me to publish an excerpt here.

Excerpt from Evelio’s Garden: A Memoir of Costa Rica, by Sandra Shaw Homer

All land has a history, and the history around here goes back a long way.  Satellite images have picked up old roads all over this canton, long grown over, made by the indigenous peoples of pre-Columbian times.  One of these roads runs along the south shore of the lake, uphill from the current road and downhill from the ridge that links Tilarán with the tiny villages of Silencio and Río Chiquito.  I have ridden my mare along one stretch of this old road that runs behind San Luís and Tronadora, much washed out and crowded with second-growth forest, and it took a man on horseback with a machete to cut open a way for us to pass.  Artifacts of the native people show up everywhere.  When the lake is low, you can go out in a kayak or canoe and explore along the naked shoreline for pottery shards.  In town, there’s hardly a house that doesn’t sport a metate, or corn-grinding stone, that turned up when the foundation was being dug.  It usually has a potted plant sitting on it.

Modern local history dates from the late nineteenth century, when there were gold mines south of here in Las Juntas and Líbano.  It was rough country then, virgin forest, and the only way in was by horse or mule.  The gold was shipped out in ox-carts.  (More recently it was taken out in helicopters!)  Gradually settlement drifted north, and people carved farms out of the ancient forests, establishing a fiercely independent, frontier life-style.  Even in the 1930s, it could take the better part of a week to get to San José – from Tilarán on horseback (oxcart took longer) to Cañas, where you waited days for a small boat to take you down the Bebedero to the Río Tempisque and the port of Puntarenas, then by all-day train up to the Central Valley.  The Inter-American highway wasn’t completed along its northern reaches until the sixties.  There was no paved road around the lake until the eighties.  (It’s still not finished.)  I have met retired school teachers in Tilarán who remember four-hour treks on horseback to get to their one-room school houses on the lake, sometimes in mud up to the horses’ knees.  The niece of one of these teachers told me that her grandparents owned our farm in those days, and that it was a much bigger property.  A lot of the farms around here were broken up when ICE acquired the land for the reservoir.  Since then, the process of development has been inexorable.  As long as there’s someone to buy, sooner or later a farmer will face the economic conditions that force him to sell, frequently just a small piece at a time, enough to give him ready cash to get along until beef prices go up, or the weather improves enough to let him get a good crop in.  There are still some fair-sized farms around the lake, but since the early nineties development has speeded up and been gringo-ized. (At least in Tilarán, the word gringo can refer to Europeans as well as to non-native-Spanish-speakers from north of the Río Grande. Our nearest neighbors are Germans.)

Earlier this year an 18-wheeler parked its trailer by the side of the road just uphill from Cinco Esquinas, smack in your face where the first grand view of the lake should be.  It was a mobile office with the name of an international real-estate company painted in large letters on its side.  This was beyond ugly, but it never opened.  Instead the world-wide recession brought local real estate sales almost to a halt.  Still the trailer sat there, month after month, until finally some locals couldn’t resist jacking the thing up to steal a pair of off-side tires, leaving it listing crazily on a slender pile of cement blocks.  Just the other day it finally disappeared.  How it was moved, nobody seems to know.  But nobody was sorry to see it go.  This little story – especially the part about getting that trailer out of there – is no doubt already brewing up into a local legend.

We’ve been here long enough to see people come and go.  Some can brave the remoteness, the vagaries of the weather and the strangeness of the culture, and some can’t.  Some people get attached to the land, and some don’t.

When I was growing up, my family never lived long enough in one place for me to become bound to the land.  We lived in some beautiful – and not so beautiful – places, both rural and suburban.  From my early twenties until I came to Costa Rica, I moved almost as frequently, living exclusively in cities.   It was a little shock to realize, when we started building this house five years ago, that I’ve lived on Lake Arenal, and on this particular plot of ground, longer than I’ve lived any place else in my entire life.

You can’t get attached to the earth in Philadelphia or New York.  How many millions of people never do?  It’s this attachment that fires my desire to protect it – but not just my attachment to this particular plot of ground, but to the whole thing, the planet.  It’s not such a giant leap of the imagination from the sight of a growing young forest to the image of a tiny blue speck in the vastness of the universe.  So, finally, it is the sense of place that has captured me and pinned me to the planet.

It is gratifying to be part of the history of the land, to be growing a farm instead of shrinking it, to be building a forest instead of cutting it down.  Here, in one tiny corner of the planet, the question becomes obvious:  do we add something by our tenancy of the earth, or do we take it away?

The good:

–While not strictly about travel, Anderson’s book uses the metaphor of the journey to good effect in her discussion of midlife women ready to “navigate the rapids of change” in their lives.

–The book is small and fits nicely in your hand (in this world of digitized everything, I like to remind myself of why I love actual books).

–The tone is casual, personal, and the book is a fast read.

–There’s an abundance of good travel and personal growth quotes, like Jean Shinoda Bolen’s: ‘When a woman is at a crossroads, the heroine wants to make her own decision, while the nonheroine wants it made for her.’

The not-so-good:

–The writing often seems formulaic, with the author trying too hard to make insignificant things highly significant. For example, in Chapter 7, “Unfamiliar Territory,” Anderson hires a local fisherman to take her out to the beach that, years before, prompted her to write her best-known book, A Year By the Sea. The fisherman mentions that they’ll have to work with the tides, and that the tide cycle sets his whole week. “How coincidental,” writes Anderson. “His days are controlled by the tide cycles and my thoughts have been about life cycles.” Is it just me, or does this not seem so very coincidental? All of life is about cycles, especially if your work involves nature.

–I often felt excluded from her generalizations about women and their life cycles. She is a white, heterosexual, 60-something woman who has kids and sees her own life in mythic terms. If you are pretty much the same, what she says will speak to you. If not, well, you’ll have to be content with the odd insight that applies to everyone, not just to people like her.

–Another formula that didn’t work for me was her “ten phases of a woman’s life” chart, which she introduces by intoning (I can almost hear Linda Hunt doing the voice-over): Since the beginning of time, women’s lives have been divided into phases…. The since-the-beginning-of-time phases purportedly include:
–Ages 21- 28: Being affirmed by a man—the desire to procreate
–Ages 28-25: Birthing, mothering, caretaking, putting others first
–Ages 25-42: Leaving self out but occasionally looking beyond
There are, of course, millions of women in the world leading lives on schedules very different from what this chart describes. Anderson does her readers a disservice, assuming that we all share the same basic life story. We don’t.

–Some of the book seems like an advertisement for her business of leading women on retreat. Walking the beach in Chapter 8, Anderson reflects on “all the weekend women I have brought out here”– the stutterer who returned from her weekend “bold enough to sing about herself.” The widow and mother of three boys who “released her grief in order to rejoin the human race.” And the anorexic who “buried her scales and stopped measuring her worth by lack of weight.”

For my tastes, these thumbnail case studies claim too much credit, and ring untrue if only because the transformations all supposedly took place within two days. And the hubris of the claims makes me think back on other parts of the book and wonder if they, too, were inflated in some way.

The movie Outsourced features a relationship between an American man and an Indian woman

Don’t worry, I’m not going to go all tabloid on you, but South Carolina governor Sanford and his Argentine honey’s high-profile affair shines a light on something most travelers and live-abroaders already know: that cross-cultural romance can be more than tricky, even if you’re not a governor.

Sanford and Belen Chaper should head over to the web site Expatwomen for some cautionary tales (and success stories). Take, for example, the Danish woman and her Japanese boyfriend who met while he was working in Denmark. The woman writes that when the couple moved to Japan, everything changed—and not for the better.

‘It seems that the man I fell in love with has transformed into a different person. He acts differently, he dresses differently and worst of all; he treats me in a different way. I feel I have been put in a different role since we got here, and somehow it seems I don’t fit into his life anymore. To make matters worse, I am not working here and feel completely disempowered about the whole situation.”

The move abroad stories are all from a woman’s point of view,  and are often set up in advice-column format, from My teenagers aren’t adapting to the move to Pregnant in Vietnam, who’s worried about the medical system there.

Icon by The Lighthouse, a center for architecture and design in Glasgow

You’re trekking in Nepal, touring the Russian Steppes, or just out for a long day of siteseeing. It’s not that the toilets are terrible. It’s that there are no toilets, period. And you’re on yours.

Or that murky coffee from a street vendor has kicked in and is kicking your butt, literally. The need to relieve yourself is so strong you’re sweating and trembling. What do you do? Pop a squat behind a bush or parked car? Use your visa to wipe yourself?

When you do find a toilet abroad, what’s your procedure? The ways we relieve ourselves in public toilets say everything about our upbringing and attitudes. Would you never in a million years let your flesh touch a public toilet seat? Are your thigh muscles like iron from years of hovering? Or do you “feather your nest,” carefully layering toilet paper onto the seat?

And what do toilets say about the country they’re in? In “Toilets of the World,” Morna Gregory and Sion James write: “The variety of toilets in different countries is astounding. Toilets often (though not always) reflect the development of a given country or region via design, placement, material and mechanics. Aren’t toilets the same everywhere? In a limited geographical area, perhaps. On an international scale, toilets are very, very different.”

Tell us your stories. Share your tactics. And come back to the site often to see what other people have to say.