Nine years ago, at the age of 34, Anne Tower quit her job as a talent agent in Hollywood and took off for Washington, DC.
She was hoping to make a difference. At first she volunteered with the Gore campaign; later she was hired for a job.
But when Gore’s presidential bid ended and Anne’s relationship with her boyfriend went south, she took the hint and headed that way too.
Meeting up with a friend in Peru, the two women explored the ruins of Machu Picchu and the beach towns along the coast. Then they headed north to Ecuador.
For no reason that Anne can explain—she doesn’t speak more than high school Spanish and she knew absolutely nothing about the country—Ecuador and its people captured her heart.
Settling in the beach town of Montanita, Anne found herself amidst a group of like-minded people.
“A lot of foreigners come to Montanita to surf,” says Anne, “and while I’m not a surfer, their relaxed, easy manner was underscored by the kindness of the locals. Everyone hung out together.”
After years of working in the hurly-burly world of Hollywood and DC politics, Anne found herself drawn to the simplicity of the place. “I could leave my hotel room with $1.50 in my pocket and it would take me through the whole day. Money didn’t seem to play such a big role in people’s lives. What mattered was time and friendship.”
Without the mind-numbing stresses of her former life, Anne felt like she was seeing the world for the first time. “Leading a very simple life felt like such a gift,” recalls Anne. When she returned home to Los Angeles, it was a feeling she was determined to hold on to. Turns out, it’s not all that easy to do.
“I got back and didn’t have a job,” says Anne. “So I could go to the beach in the middle of the week. I could go hiking. But when I called friends to join me or suggested we get together and hang out, everyone was too busy.”
Suddenly, Anne found herself trapped between two worlds. She could get a job and jump back into the go-go American culture she’d been part of before her trip, or she could try and find the American version of the simpler joys and quieter times she’d been introduced to on the road.
While she was trying to figure this out, her brother offered her, as Anne puts it, “the family-reject car.” Out of work and with little money, Anne jumped at the chance for a free car. The only problem? She’d have to get herself to Chicago to pick it up, and then drive it back to L.A.
For Anne this seemed like an invitation to explore and maybe, just maybe, find a way of life that combined the excitement of big city living with the simpler times she’d experienced on the road. So with the forthright manner of a well-traveled person, she asked her friends and relatives who they knew that would put her up. In spite of their skepticism, they made the calls and Anne found places to stay all the way from Chicago to L.A.
In St. Louis, it was with an old friend of her sister’s. In Santa Fe, it was with a famous artist and his wife who was a friend of a friend of a friend. But most interesting of all for Anne, was her friend Kyle’s grandmother.
“For years, Kyle had talked about his grandparents’ farm outside of Oklahoma City. He had so many great memories of it, that I asked him if he’d call his 93-year-old grandmother and ask her if I could stay.” Having lost her husband, his grandmother was happy for the company and she and Anne stayed up talking late into the night.
And it was there, on that farm in Oklahoma, that Anne found her two worlds colliding. Kyle’s grandmother had seen it all—she’d taught in a one-room schoolhouse, lived through the Great Depression, raised a family in the farmhouse she still lived in, then watched as her kids left for the cities.
She understood young people’s desire to leave. What she didn’t understand were the people who stayed and, when they couldn’t find work, turned to drugs or alcohol to get through the bad times.
“She wasn’t a touchy-feely sort of woman,” says Anne. “But she still had such an appreciation of and excitement about life. She lived on her own and took care of herself. She played cards a couple of nights a week with her friends.”
Having lived through so much, she still marveled at the promise of America, its richness, abundance and the opportunities for those willing to work hard.
For Anne, she represented the beauty and majesty of a simpler way of life, a life full of riches that can’t be found in any bank.
That way of life still calls to Anne. After spending the last seven years working hard in advertising, she’s setting off once more on a road trip across the country. So if you see a 1989 white Volvo station wagon zip by, give a wave. Or better yet, invite Anne to a cup of tea. Good company is such a rich and simple pleasure.
By Jamie Simons for PeterGreenberg.com.
Read more inspiring stories from the Grateful Traveler series:
