Palin’s Perspective

Before I read Michael Palin’s Diaries, I only knew him as a performer, and in that regard, chiefly for his work in Monty Python.  But just as there was more to the comedy ensemble than their TV show and movies, Michael Palin is much more than a performer.  There’s Michael Palin the family man, Michael Palin the entrepreneur, and Michael Palin the creator.  As a writer, I enjoyed reading about how he constantly turned his mind to new and interesting challenges.  Using his fame and prestige from Python, he tries his hand at all kinds of creative endeavors, from writing and directing his own TV shows, to acting in nonPython feature films, and writing stories of all kinds, including children’s stories and novels for adults. 

In addition to his creativity, Halfway To Hollywood reveals his perspective on life in the 1980s.  We see London through his eyes, and glimpse other places he visits, from other areas of England, to other cities in Europe, and even to the United States.  These insights function as a mirror, reveal how we often disregard what is immediately in front of us, praise what seems new and noteworthy, and reject what seems too different to be desirable.

Recently, I chatted with a friend about his business trips to England.  His initial perspective on English cuisine was that he didn’t like it.  But then, as we talked further, it became apparent that he had enjoyed many pleasant meals there.  This jibes with my own trips to England, where I tried many of the delicacies I had seen or read about in English fiction.  While I ultimately decided that Black Pudding and Kippers weren’t my favorites, I loved Cornish Pasties, Steak and Kidney Pies, and many of the cakes and tarts I tried.

In his entry for October 27, 1980, Michael Palin writes of a trip to Ireland, in which he ate “eggs and bacon like it used to taste before it was sealed and suffocated in cellophane packets, and home-made bread and toast too thick and generously cut to fit in any toaster.”  Cuisine in England must have changed since the early 1980s, for his appreciation of Irish breakfasts sound akin to my appreciation of English breakfasts.  I certainly never had eggs and bacon that tasted mass-produced.  In fact, the bacon there was far better, in my opinion, than what we get in America.  Also, the rich flavor of their breads made me appreciate our varieties all the more upon my return to the United States.  I never enjoyed dining at Panera Bread, for example, until we visited England.  It has since become one of my favorite lunch spots.

There’s only one problem with appreciating cultural differences.  For, while travel can broaden the mind, it can also broaden the hips.

Dragon Dave  

What the Heck is That?

The other day I went out to lunch at a favorite Mexican hangout.  While I enjoyed my enchilada, rice, and beans, a group of men entered the restaurant.  One, with a loud penetrating voice, spoke with authority, and sat in the corner opposite me, with his back to the windows.  As the others wandered over with their trays, they sat, for the most part, orientated toward him.  One sat at the table facing him, the others took the surrounding tables located ninety degrees to his. 

Each table had four chairs, but these men sat two to a table, and never side-by-side.  All took part in the conversation, but the man in the corner decided the topics: if a subject wasn’t to his interest, discussion shifted to one that was.  From what I could tell, the men were welders, or at least had significant training in that discipline.  The man in the corner regaled them with stories of jobs he had worked in faraway locations, for which he had received large sums of money.  The others asked him questions, or added an anecdote of their own.

The last of the men to arrive sat down with his back to the man in the corner.  Like a dragon who has just glimpsed movement among his treasures, the man in the corner exclaimed, “What the heck is that?”

The new arrival turned around, and allowed their (mostly) fearless leader to see his plate.  “It’s a bean tostada,” he said.  Indeed, the cooks had been generous with the lettuce, piling it high atop his fried tortilla and refried beans.  I noticed that all the other men had ordered dry burritos, wrapped in paper, so they could pick them up and eat them.  The man in the corner blinked, and his eyes were wide as he shook his head at the member of his crew who had dared sit with his back to him, and order something different.

When I eat at this restaurant, I always plan on bringing half of my plate home.  While it’d be easy to eat it all, I know I’d feel uncomfortably full later on.  So the next day, as I made up my plate of leftovers for lunch, I piled some shredded lettuce atop the remaining half of my enchilada, as I had eaten all the lettuce their cooks had generously supplied.  To this, I added some fresh salsa, so it resembled the meal I had enjoyed the day previous.  Then, as I had cooked some up the night before, I added a serving of broccoli.

I know that I'm different, that I don’t fit the mold of modern society.  Like the broccoli, my unique outlook, interests, and lifestyle often clash with the norm.  So what?  Others can think what they will. It’s my responsibility to be myself, to like myself, to respect myself, and to hold true to my beliefs and goals. 

Even if someone occasionally turns toward me, and with wide eyes, asks, “What the heck is that?”

Dragon Dave


P.S.  "Relax, it's only lettuce."