The Problem Buffet

There is no perfect place in this world. Everywhere has problems. But what they don't tell you is that you can choose your problems. The world is a problem buffet.

There is no perfect place in this world. Everywhere has problems. But what they don't tell you is that you can choose your problems. The world is a problem buffet.

It's 5:43 AM in room 21 of Hotel Casablanca. It's quiet except for the hum of the heater. I'm resting in the darkness. I woke up, meditated and journaled. I am now called to write.

Montevideo is a beautiful city. I love it here. It's nice and has a level of chill I am not accustomed to seeing.

Dallas-Fort Worth always felt tense. Frenetic. Like things were about to pop off at any moment. Montevideo on the other hand is more quiet to me. More laid back.

I'm not sensing the feeling like a drunk dad in his recliner who at the least provocation will jump up and beat the ever loving shit out of anyone within his radius.

Montevideo is more like a languorous animal. It could be dangerous if you aren't aware of it but it's not an active threat.

Cities are characters in my mind. Dallas was wild, often violent, intoxicating. It was Doc Holliday and Jack Ruby cooking barbecue just waiting for any excuse to slap leather and take a life.

Montevideo is like a lion. It's usually peaceful. Violent crime rates here are very low. It rests on the coast breathing deep and watching the world go by. I am sure it can be dangerous the moment you forget that it is a big city. But it's not mean.

Does that mean I hate D-FW? Hell no. I miss it. I miss its energy. The smell of dried out grass and cattle drives. The weird museums sponsored by oil companies. The book depository where Oswald changed the course of US history. The vibrant spices and yes, even that mean streak of violence that lurked just beneath the surface. But a girl eventually knows that the bad boy is likely to kill her. So I left.

I visited Montreal for a while. And for me it was a place that tolerated my presence. It wasn't home but the people were generally nice and didn't try to murder me or make a big deal of my existence. Montreal is a grim sentinel with a flower behind his ear. He's all business. He won't tolerate your bullshit. But… it wasn't as bad as I knew DFW would be in 2025.

So here I am in the great beating heart of a sleepy lion. Preparing to go through the steps of paperwork required for my time in this beautiful windswept land that has a stable, sane government and where everyone is pretty friendly but also minds their own business.

It's now 6:05 AM as I type these words. The dark is still pervasive. The night still surrounds us because it's winter. The sun comes late and leaves early. Our lives are moments like these. Stories about cities as people.

My mind drifts back to the city of my birth. Hendersonville, NC. I remember it as that odd maiden aunt who tries to love you but ends up being cruel by accident and her more glamorous sister Asheville who was the cool auntie who let you have sips of wine and was equally as insensitive as her sister but at least she had a better wardrobe that didn't stink of mothballs.

I love the USA. I think most Americans do. I am disappointed by what happened. That the drunk dads and incompetent aunties fell into weird violent extremism and decided to burn the house down to purge the ghosts that live behind their eyeballs.

Uruguay has ghosts of its own. It was colonized. Indigenous people were murdered here. Terrible things have happened on this soil too. But for now things are chill. Tranquilo as they say here. The ghosts are sleeping and may they stay dormant for a long time. May the madness miss this small neutral nation with its kind people.

Nowhere is perfect but some places fit folks better than others and for now, Uruguay fits me.

It's the section of the buffet that comes with affordable medical care and high quality beef.

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