A life with less money is not better. It isn’t any more altruistic, noble or fun. Apparently wealth makes people happier only until a certain low standard of living. Once someone has food security and maybe a bed, more money does not significantly change life satisfaction. One undeniable quality of a lower income life, however, is simplicity.
Most people in my town are home owners but not vehicle owners. They don’t have bank accounts, debt or any kind of insurance. They have a TV with basic cable, favorite soap operas, and maybe a mini fridge. Their babies don´t always wear diapers and have never sat in a car seat or stroller. Their pets eat left overs and have probably never seen a leash. The under 18 crowd might have an email account that they rarely use and if they are really fly, Faceboo’! The one Internet center has an hour per day limit and often takes minutes to open each website. They eat rice and beans for every lunch, sometimes mixed, sometimes separate and reserve salads for special occasions. Breakfast and dinner are usually combinations of bread, salami, yucca, eggs and milk. They sweep their dirt patio every morning, wash clothes and mop when the water runs, and get really pretty every Sunday afternoon.
While it would be presumptuous to fully include myself in the simple life category, I have had one foot in it for the past two years. I boil eggs and carrots in the same pot and to minimize dishes, listen to the radio for a treat, and walk around town on the nights that we have electricity. Peace Corps pays us a stipend sufficient for this uncomplicated way. We travel on buses and view the good stuff like chocolate as special. Peace Corps gives us free medicine and sunscreen and takes care of our insurance and banking.
Looking forward to the states feels like looking forward to the circus: exciting but kind of scary. I know it will be great, with colorful, huge and incredible things. I also know sensory overload to be likely if not inevitable because elephant tricks are almost too surprising. Hot water is the bomb. But with glorious hot showers come dishwashers, washing machines, and other appliances that make white noise. I think longingly about singing along to David Gray in my mom’s comfortable Subaru with a hot drink in one hand and a luna bar in the other. With cars come taxes, warranties, maintenance checks, insurance, licence plate tabs, gas, and spare emergency equipment. Malls have whole areas donated to eyeshadow and grocery stores have fourteen kinds of milk and whole aisles of snacks. When I left the states, most people had cell phones that were actually for making calls. I am doing the best I can to enjoy my last minutes without the bleep of email in everyone’s hands. When I get there, I am sure I will watch shows that I have somehow scheduled and saved and look on wikipedia during a meal in a restaurant. But, as a circus spectator, I might need a second to look away, shut my eyes or plug my ears.
I want to go hiking with only a bag of trail mix and some water. I resolve to remember my Dominican friends, make cards on paper and prepare food from ingredients. Anybody could probably benefit from a break from the buzz. It might be nice to take a vacation from Glee and read an actual book (although I hear those are so out) or to talk face to face with people rather than posting on their pic. Money buys complexity, not necessarily happiness.
