Travelin'

Traveling is an interesting thing. When you consider that the phenomenon of leaving your home base and your habitual living patterns then means you have the other 99.999% of the world to contend with, it's not exactly as though "traveling" constitutes a single agreed-upon activity. Indeed you can see by the travel literature that this is so.

When I think of traveling, I envision mostly an escape from a world that has grown too industrialized, too technological, too fast-paced, too anonymous. I want to find a village where I can get a slice of an older way of life. I want to call the barkeep by his name, listen to spontaneous music played by enthusiastic locals, kick my boots off in quaint half-timbered rooms and bicycle down to the bakery in the morning. I want to wander along rocky cliffs, journal in hand. I could make an entire vacation out of one small town.

That's probably why I never think of it as a "vacation." That word tends to conjure up whirlwind sightseeing itineraries, scenic and historic hotels, restaurant guides and evenings finished off with wine and tripping out on the fact that "we're in Athens!" Of course I have an interest in history and culture, and if my travels allow me to brush against well-known bastions of tourism, I'm not averse to adding a postcard and a photo to my collection. But that is not the reason for travel, it's a side benefit. I've seen quite a few monuments in my life, and in the end, they're just monuments.

It's the people, the living culture, that make the most lasting impression. I'm surprised to hear myself saying this actually. As much as I love the sweeping nostalgia of history, when I look back on trips I've taken to other countries, it's the people I remember most vividly. The contrast of their experiences and opinions, the comforting familiarity of their smiles and laughter. It's always instructive to witness human beings in alternate settings; you can begin to glean which aspects of our behavior are instinctual, truly "human," and which belong to the learned culture foisted upon us. The universal aspects of human nature are what comfort and edify us, while the unfamiliar local bits are delightful and intriguing.

I've noticed the vast majority of guidebooks, websites, and so forth cater to the sightseeing paradigm. It's that American idea of getting the most bang for your buck, but in my view this thinking is flawed. Yes I can see three countries and 17 cities in three weeks, but what will I take back? A lot of impressive photos and a nice feeling for having seen so many famous sights. Maybe I'll have met a score of friendly waiters, taxi drivers, and street musicians. Beneath this superficial taste of exotica, however, my person is likely to remain unscathed. To really let another culture sink in and challenge some of that provincialism that infects us, to change us in some small but profound way, requires much more depth even at the expense of breadth. I'll take my pub grub and recognition-laced 'ello over your Colisseum-and-Vatican sojourn any day.