A Year Without a Car: Reflections of a Recovering Suburbanite. [Elephant Journal]
I’m a reformed country club princess who has gone granola.
It didn’t happen all at once… but it has happened. I turned off my TV and woke the fuck up.
I had been slowing evolving for a while, but things changed drastically for me when I met my husband last year. Anders lives in Norway so we talked on Skype every day for three months and really got to know each other before we met in person. When he came to Portland for a month and stayed with me.
We knew almost instantly we would marry. As with most travel and exposure to other cultures, it’s what I noticed about what we took for granted as “normal” here that opened my eyes the most.
I love that there are natural-looking women on the front of Norwegian magazines, complete with wrinkles and double chins. I love the way there’s a healthy medium on the weight issue—you rarely see someone who is either anorexic or obese. I love that it’s unusual to see a homeless person, while our streets are now overcrowded and overwhelmed with tragedy.
I didn’t realize how badly we denigrated those who don’t drive cars here in the U.S.
Not until I re-watched “The 40-Year-Old Virgin” with my husband. While I still find that movie hysterical, it’s interesting social commentary that the nerdy old virgin rides a bike.
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