Conveniences that (may) make life less convenient

I have been reflecting on the array of gadgets and gizmos that  Americans use, myself included, to enhance our lives: rice cookers, hiking boots, and backpacks, to name a few. Many specialized objects were designed by brilliant inventors and/or marketed by ambitious entrepreneurs to alleviate a challenge, make life easier, and presumably allow increased leisure. I wrote recently about the introduction of one such item here in rural Ecuador -- the washing machine --  which revolutionized women's lives. 

But consider an alternate perspective: can what we consider modern conveniences actually serve as obstacles? Might their existence appear useful but their absence create such a gap that we are unable to experience life without them? Might our dependence be maladaptive?

Here are two case studies to ponder. 

Case #1: The bathing suit 

Annette Kellerman, activist for the modern-day swimsuit (photo source: Wikipedia)

We have come a long way.

The female bathing suit was introduced to the Western world in the 18th century, when modesty took hold in Europe, and there was an abrupt departure from simply swimming in one's birthday suit. While men have forever enjoyed leeway in their bathing attire, women began dressing in long heavy dresses, known as "bathing dresses" to swim. These early bathing dresses were made of flannel, wool or canvas, too heavy for actual swimming, but accepted because they did not turn transparent when wet. Some dresses even had weights on the bottom so they could not ride up and, god forbid, reveal a leg. 

Bathing bloomers and pantaloons, loose pants that cinched at the bottom, followed bathing dresses in history; they were an improvement but still unwieldy and impeded actual swimming for sport. In addition, there was controversy about women wearing "pants" when bathing. 

Fast forward to the end of the 19th century, the dawn of the Olympic games and the recognition of swimming as a sport, which irrevocably changed the swimsuit. Then in the early 1900s, a famous professional swimmer and vaudeville star, Annette Kellerman, became a controversial and successful advocate for a one-piece fitted suit (shocking, I know), which helped women get into a suit that they could actually swim in. Once female swimmers felt what it was like to swim without having their clothing impede them, there was no going back. Then, by the 1950s, the bikini became all the rage. 

Now, of course, every woman (and man) you know -- even those who rarely swim -- owns a swimsuit, the perfect garment for dipping one's toes into a lake, river, ocean, swimming pool, or hot tub. The suit is made of nylon or spandex, fits the body snugly so as not to drag, dries quickly, and hopefully makes you look fabulous. Many of us own more than one. 

Whether packing for a long trip or a weekend away, there is an inevitable debate about whether or not to pack a bathing suit, and most anyone can sympathize with a friend who sadly forgot to bring one. How many times have you been with someone who sat on the edge and dipped in their toes? (There is, admittedly, a chapter in life when friends boldly skinny dip in such circumstances, but opportunities for that are fairly limited).

In Ecuador, we are the outliers in our bathing suits. In fact, everyone we know here swims in whatever they are wearing. Literally. Just a few weeks ago, Lucia met us straight after work (she is an elementary school teacher) and dove into the river in her favorite professional navy blue blouse. Her son-in-law swam in jean shorts and tennis shoes. A few months ago at a local swimming pool, every guest (excepting us) swam in their street clothes.

I cannot tell you how liberating it is to not need a bathing suit (and I am not talking about skinny dipping; that is an entirely different, good form of liberation). 

Not needing a bathing suit means that you do not have to be "prepared" to swim. You do not have to make a decision before you arrive. You also need not be inhibited by or concerned about getting your clothes wet (what will that look like?) or have to be brave enough to swim in your undies (what will people think?), or feel anxious about having not planned ahead (what was I thinking?). You swim in whatever you are wearing. You have full permission -- from yourself AND those around you -- to jump in, get wet, enjoy the water.

It also means that you do not have to carry extra equipment, except perhaps a dry shirt or undies, but even those are not necessary. It is warm enough that you will quickly drip dry. As a fan of packing less stuff, I am a definitely in favor of reduced gear. Since whatever you are wearing is considered appropriate, nothing extra is required.

Finally, and perhaps most powerful for women, you do not have to worry about what you look like in your bathing suit -- if your legs are shaved, if your breasts are accentuated, if your suit is too revealing (or not revealing enough). In this reality, you swim in what you have, and if your nipples show or your shirt sticks or your love handles are revealed, no biggie. The idea is to enjoy the water, not to fret about one's body. Here is the truth: no one else actually cares.

Brynna has fully embraced her Ecuadorian swimsuit, so much so that she hasn't worn her actual swimsuit in weeks.  I love it.

Case #2: The vegetable peeler

The Original Jonas Peeler (photo source: lindensweden.com)

I don't know about you, but despite using a knife every day of my life, multiple times per day, my knife skills are still quite rudimentary. I enjoy cooking, and I do plenty of it. I can chop onions and broccoli just fine, I can slice a tomato, but I can do none of it that well without a cutting board and a sharp implement. I can slice an apple in my hand, but I do much better with a hard surface and a good paring blade. And beyond cutting, there is the peeling: peeling carrots, cucumbers, potatoes, mangoes, an occasional apple. Have you ever tried peeling them with just a knife? Can you?

There are countless online histories about the various iterations of the vegetable peeler -- all boasting their marvelous design: from the French Pouzet's 1928 "Econome" peeler  to Swiss Alfred Newescerzal, who loathed peeling potatoes in the army and patented the Rex peeler in 1947, to the Jonas peeler, a classic stainless steel peeler with a swivel appropriate for lefties or righties, designed in Sweden in 1953. (That lefty-righty bit is particularly important to me as a lefty who lives in a very right-handed world).

Years ago, during a visit to La Josefina, I proudly gifted vegetable peelers to each of the important Ecuadorian women in my life. Women here spend a lot of time peeling. I was so excited; I thought they would love them. Sadly, they laughed at me; they have no need for peelers. They are just too good with a knife.

Potatoes feature prominently in many large community events here-- they are local, cheap, and beloved --  I have sat many times, often on a bucket or a stump, with a group of friends as they washed, peeled, and chopped hundreds of potatoes. Every time, I am amazed by the skill and speed. Watch any friend of mine peel a potato (or 10), and you will also see. They are masters of the knife. They can thinly and accurately peel a potato in their hand -- with a dull knife -- and then chop it -- also in their hand -- without looking - in less time than it takes me to find my peeler. 

After a potato-rich almuerzo, come take a hike with us out into the finca or to a nearby waterfall. A machete is the local tool of choice -- it can be used to clear brush and chop overgrown branches, but it also serves as a cacao cracker, a sugar cane chopper, and even an efficient orange peeler. Even though Dillon has perfected his orange peel spiral with our picnic knife, he does not come close to Lucia with a machete. Fast and accurate. And once again, she does it without even looking!

I don't have to look far to imagine what my knife skills could look like if I had not lived the first 20+ years of my life with the convenience of a vegetable peeler. 

***

I know, I know, you would not normally consider a swimsuit to be a gadget -- the vegetable peeler fits more clearly in that category -- and yet, the swimsuit is also specialized product designed for one activity and not really suitable for others. So, I am sticking to the examples above. Plus, have you ever considered a world without swimsuits? My guess is no. The notion of doing away with a swimsuit is definitely more evocative than ditching the vegetable peeler. 

To be clear, I am not planning to throw out my swimsuit or my peeler any time soon, I find them both useful. BUT I have been challenging myself to swim occasionally in my clothing -- particularly when it is more convenient to do so than to change in/out of a suit. And I am definitely working on my cutting and peeling skills. They still have a ways to go, but the growth feels like a positive direction.

What could your life look like without a swimsuit? What could your life look like without a vegetable peeler? Harder? Or perhaps, unexpectedly more flexible, more open, more possible?

Swimming in our favorite swimming hole, I am in my suit. Dillon (in his swimsuit) with two friends to the upper left (both swimming in clothes). 

Brynna swimming "Ecuadorian style" with her buddy, Joan.