Alexandersmap

    Category: Travel

    • Foundations

      “Mistakes are, after all, the foundations of truth, and if a man does not know what a thing is, it is at least an increase in knowledge if he knows what it is not.” ― Carl Jung

      Navigating years as they unfold may make us more intelligent, or less so, depending on the lessons learned along the way. I’m shocked at the distinct lack of intelligence displayed in some people my age or well past it. I’m impressed with the brilliance and maturity of some people much younger than me. I’m sure I shock them at times too by what I don’t know at my own age. Such is the journey through time for each individual.

      We all ought to make more mistakes along the way if only to figure out that we should take another path to becoming. Fear of mistakes is what keeps us from going anywhere at all. There are times in our life when we debate whether to take a hard left instead of staying on a familiar course. Both are deeply impactful, but which elevates our experience the most? Life is full of such forks, and most follow the path well-travelled. And that makes a difference too.

      We don’t learn and grow by staying the same. We must challenge ourselves in new ways, that we may build a stronger foundation from which to see the world differently. Our lifetime of learning and experience, reflected and acted upon, carries us to a greater and more profound identity. It’s right here in front of us, where we might ask once again, what next?

    • The Journey Continues

      Oh, if a tree could wander
      and move with foot and wings!
      It would not suffer the axe blows
      and not the pain of saws!

      For would the sun not wander
      away in every night ?
      How could at ev’ry morning
      the world be lighted up?

      And if the ocean’s water
      would not rise to the sky,
      How would the plants be quickened
      by streams and gentle rain?

      The drop that left its homeland,
      the sea, and then returned ?
      It found an oyster waiting
      and grew into a pearl.

      Did Yusaf not leave his father,
      in grief and tears and despair?
      Did he not, by such a journey,
      gain kingdom and fortune wide?

      Did not the Prophet travel
      to far Medina, friend?
      And there he found a new kingdom
      and ruled a hundred lands.

      You lack a foot to travel?
      Then journey into yourself!
      And like a mine of rubies
      receive the sunbeams? print!

      Out of yourself ? such a journey
      will lead you to your self,
      It leads to transformation
      of dust into pure gold!
      — Mewlana Jalaluddin Rumi, If a Tree could Wander

      After a couple of months of earnest, enlightening travel, New Hampshire greeted me with pollen and Trump signs. Not the welcome home I’d have chosen for myself. We must be crazy, mustn’t we, to revisit the same irritants year after year?

      People try so hard to hold on to what always has been for them, instead of trying something different now and then. A walk around the World Showcase Lagoon at Epcot is not international travel any more than taking a cruise that drops you in a few places for a few hours each is, but at least it’s a small step into the unknown. Likewise, going to an Ethiopian restaurant isn’t the same as going to the country, but it sure as hell helps the family running the restaurant and might just inspire another step further into the world. A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step, as Lao Tzu put it.

      We don’t know how far our journey will take us, but we ought to venture while we can. Do the things that challenge our perception of the world. Give others the freedom to follow their own path, that they may broaden our own perspective. It’s not such a far-fetched concept, is it? We must go through our lives knowing we’re taking a first step into the unknown with every step. Change is the only constant.

      So where do we go from here? Bold and audacious challenges, or shrinking to fit who we once were? Those shoes don’t fit anymore friend—we’ve come too far in our development to squeeze back into some idolized version of who we once were. Set a course and step to it. The journey into the self continues.

    • The Splendid and Meaningful

      “This is a brief life, but in its brevity it offers us some splendid moments, some meaningful adventures.” — Rudyard Kipling, Kim

      “As each day arises, welcome it as the very best day of all, and make it your own possession. We must seize what flees.” — Seneca

      Lately I’ve had a good run of splendid days. Not every day, mind you, but surely enough to make the year memorable when you reflect upon the sum. These are days we’ll remember—and so we must remember to live with this in mind. Be bold while we have the currency of health, wealth or time to do something about it. Most of us will never have all three at the same time, but chances are we’ll have one or two in abundance at any singular moment in our lives. We must use this currency wisely.

      I’ve been known to post a lot of pictures of whatever adventure I happen to be on on my social media timeline. Perhaps there’s too much of a good thing, but for me it’s about capturing the essence of the moment at hand in the best way available to me at the time. Images and words are the best way for me. If I overshare I do it with two people in mind: the one who can’t do the adventure I’m doing for lack of available currency (again, not always financial) and the one who chooses not to spend the currency they have in the moment. For the former I’m bringing them along on the adventure, but for the latter I’m hoping to shake them loose from their frugality before their currency is gone forever.

      I’ve had the opportunity to travel with people who have lost the currency of health and it always makes an impression on me. Did they simply wait too long or are they giving it their best shot with the currency they have left? The answer means a great deal to the outcome. We must know our limitations but be unafraid to stretch beyond our comfort zone. The people I shake my head in disbelief at are those who defer their lives beyond the limits of their available currency. Do it now! There is no tomorrow when the well runs dry.

      The last couple of days I’ve been sequestered with a book, my bride and our dog for a soggy weekend. The currency being spent is time, and I’ve delighted in the long walks and chapters of reading completed simply because I had the time available to do them. Splendid moments don’t have to be expensive or exclusive, but they ought to be meaningful to be worthy of the currency spent on them. We must remember to seize what flees.

      Just another sunset, or blessed with another sunset? Attitude is everything.

    • The Traveler Resets

      We shouldn’t simply travel to places to keep up with the Joneses or to gather likes on our Instagram feed, but to reach a more informed and enlightened place, from which we may cross the chasm into the next unknown. It’s readily apparent in going to the bucket list places that there are plenty of tourists already. We must be the traveler instead.

      The traveler is the ambassador, the diplomat, the pilgrim, the student. The traveler is forever curious and wondering what’s around the next corner. It’s in learning the proper inflection to “thank you” in a language that isn’t yours but is most definitely theirs. To travel is to learn to see what we might not have imagined. It’s rare to be surprised by anything in this fully-connected world, but life is more than an Instagram photo or Google street view. The traveler uses all senses and tries to see around the corner from those famous pictures everyone else is taking. I was as impressed with the strikingly sad face of a gypsy beggar working the line to see David as I was with Michelangelo’s masterpiece itself. Both were masterful; the expectations of the encounter set the lasting impression. We know mastery when we see it.

      The challenge with taking a trip full of bucket list experiences is figuring out what to do with ourself when we return. Sure, the laundry and a good sleep in one’s own bed are quite necessary. A general assessment of the home and garden situation upon return reassures. Those work emails must mean something quite essential too (or what are we there for?) if only to see who ignored the out of office message. This is all the reset in action.

      We know we’ve had a great holiday when we face a large reset: time zones, empty refrigerator, thirsty plants and remembering passwords we thought we’d memorized (do get the app for those). When we travel enough we learn to master the reset. It’s not our first rodeo, it’s just the next bend in the road to some higher plain. I’ve experienced far more than I can summarize in a few paragraphs. Silence may be the best measure of an experience.

      Ah, but what of the blog? It’s shockingly obvious that the content the last two weeks has been a bit rushed, a bit unedited, and published at odd times of the day for those used to a certain routine. Travel writing is fun. The trick is to carve out the time to write as you’re maximizing your days. But done well, isn’t that how it’s supposed to be anyway? We aren’t here solely to document our experiences in the world, but to fully live in the time we have, wherever that may be. The best writing isn’t done on the trip itself, it’s after we’ve reflected on all that we’ve experienced in our time. In the end, it’s perspective on the entire journey that resonates.

    • Perfectly Imperfect (That Tower in Pisa)

      The thing about the leaning tower of Pisa that we know intuitively is that the whole thing was a big mistake. Weak foundations mean buildings fail over time. But this one has been a massive success for the very fact that it’s still standing, if off-kilter, despite the fatal design flaw. It’s perfectly imperfect and thus appealing—for who among us is perfect?

      Pisa is a one hit wonder on the tourist circuit. Most people swarm in, head straight to the tower and leave shortly afterward. Plenty of kitschy trinkets for sale on the gauntlet between parking and the tower. This is the modern hazard of international travel to popular destinations: aggressive tchotchke vendors.

      The tower itself is the destination, and it shocks the senses when you actually see it up close and personal. To climb it, feeling that distinct lean in every step to the top, is quite unusual and a bit thrilling. We’ve climbed stairs before, but never an off-kilter spiral like this one. You know immediately why people come here to see and climb it. Perfection is in the eye of the beholder.

    • The Slopes of Vesuvious

      “For believe me! — the secret for harvesting from existence the greatest fruitfulness and the greatest enjoyment is: to live dangerously! Build your cities on the slopes of Vesuvius! Send your ships into uncharted seas! Live at war with your peers and yourselves! Be robbers and conquerors as long as you cannot be rulers and possessors, you seekers of knowledge! Soon the age will be past when you could be content to live hidden in forests like shy deer! At long last the search for knowledge will reach out for its due: — it will want to rule and possess, and you with it!” — Friedrich Nietzsche, The Gay Science: With a Prelude in Rhymes and an Appendix of Songs

      Living dangerously isn’t so much about reckless acts of defiance against Darwinism. To live dangerously is to risk who we once were for who we might become. Once you’ve experienced the world you can’t put the genie back in the bottle, we expand into something more. Travel opens the mind to new possibilities, just as reading Nietzsche does.

      Visiting places for the first time that you’ve heard about all of your life is an education. The problem with those places is everyone else is joining you there to complete something in themselves too. I’d like to think that we all visit a place with the same objectives, but you know some just want to check a box while the enlightened few try to bring context and meaning to the visit. But let’s face it, we’re all a combination of both, it’s simply the ratio that separates the Instagram model from the student of history.

      The thing is, one person’s fruitfulness is another’s waste of time. We’re all on our own path through this lifetime. The trick is to get more comfortable with risk, for the fruit is often out on a limb awaiting the courageous.

      Pompeii with Mount Vesuvius looming large

    • Mount Etna

      “Mount Etna is renowned for its exceptional level of volcanic activity, and the documentation of its activity over at least 2,700 years. Its notoriety, scientific importance, and cultural and educational value are of global significance.” — UNESCO

      Visiting Mount Etna is relatively easy. It simply involves driving serpentine narrow roads filled with cars, motorcycles and large tour buses nudging the limits of the suggested speed. Once you arrive at the lower crater, you’re greeted by hundreds of people, souvenir shops and restaurants. Some hike or gondola further up to the higher craters and summit, others linger where the views are good enough, thank you. Personally, I’d have hiked ip given the opportunity. But there’s only so much time.

      The thing about a volcano is it doesn’t particularly care about your feelings, or about time. Volcanoes, like the ocean and stars and timeless principles, are of the eternal universe. so visiting an active volcano informs, not just about the planet, but about our fragile hold on this moment we’re here to witness it. When you’re dancing with eternity, you can’t help but feel awed and agape. Which is exactly why we made the pilgrimage there ourselves. Tourist shops aside.

    • A Visit to Malta

      “With Malta and the Mediterranean secured, the Allies were able to use them as bases to launch amphibious landings in North Africa (November 1942), Sicily (July 1943) and mainland Italy (September 1943).” — Imperial War Museum

      A visit to Malta is a rolling history lesson. A natural island fortress with great harbors and a strategic location in the Mediterranean, Malta has been an attractive stronghold for centuries. Those who controlled it wanted very much to keep it. Those who didn’t wanted very much to capture it. And so it was that Malta’s history is full of military campaigns from the Knights Hospitaller holding back the Ottoman Empire to the Maltese and British holding back the Germans and Italians.

      Winding through streets designed with defense against invading armies in mind, gazing up at the high walls of the fortresses surrounding you while riding in small boats in Grand Harbor, you feel the strength and resolve of the place. This was a place designed to withstand a prolonged siege. It’s tragic that World War II left such scar on this beautiful historical island, but it was also inevitable when war erupted. Malta was simply too important to ignore.

      Today tourism has replaced strategic military positioning, but Malta remains as magnetic as ever. The people are friendly and welcoming, the cities are clean and historically fascinating, and the Mediterranean is a lovely shade of blue. Malta has finally found an established peace. It’s a place worth exploring—with no siege required.

      Shrapnel scars on ancient walls

    • Sensory Miracles

      “Slow down and taste and smell and hear, and let your senses come alive. If you want a royal road to mysticism, sit down quietly and listen to all the sounds around you. You do not focus on any one sound; you try to hear them all. Oh, you’ll see the miracles that happen to you when your senses come unclogged.” — Anthony de Mello, Awareness

      I had the opportunity to walk around Mykonos as a guide for a blind man. His wife was eager to shop with mine, so we set them free to go be. We went for a nice walk through the miracles of sensory experience that are the streets of Mykonos. Doing this on my own surely would have been joyful (if you can’t find joy in Mykonos you are truly lost), but my joy was amplified by awareness of things I take for granted—things like variations in terrain, people walking towards me, and the many curbs, shelves and flowering vines protruding from buildings that make Mykonos such a beautiful place to wander about.

      The first thing you notice as a guide is pace. Everything slows down as you guide another person with their hand on your shoulder and your focus expands beyond yourself to what is coming up that may trip them up or bump at them from above. Once pace is established, next comes heightened awareness, that you may describe all that surrounds you both in ways that are hopefully interesting to your blind counterpart. Flowering vines, the grout between paving stones underfoot, the white painted stucco and narrow streets providing naturally cool places to move about, and the miniature cars and trucks navigating those tight streets, often prompting a retreat to doorways and up steps.

      The thing is, I will always remember Mykonos differently for having guided him through its streets in this way for a couple of hours. Having been the one seeing a place both for the first time and in this way for the first time, I can’t help but have a stronger affinity for Mykonos through that experience than if I’d simply wandered about on my own. Perhaps my senses finally unclogged as I was taught to see for the first time. We should all be blessed with such an opportunity.

    • Greek Character

      “Character is a Greek word, but it did not mean to the Greeks what it means to us. To them it stood first for the mark stamped upon the coin, and then for the impress of this or that quality upon a man, as Euripides speaks of the stamp—character—of valor upon Hercules, man the coin, valor the mark imprinted on him. To us a man’s character is that which is peculiarly his own; it distinguishes each one from the rest. To the Greeks it was a man’s share in qualities all men partake of; it united each one to the rest. We are interested in people’s special characteristics, the things in this or that person which are different from the general. The Greeks, on the contrary, thought what was important in a man were precisely the qualities he shared with all mankind. The distinction is a vital one. Our way is to consider each separate thing alone by itself; the Greeks always saw things as parts of a whole, and this habit of mind is stamped upon everything they did.” — Edith Hamilton, The Greek Way

      Greece is a place of rugged beauty, to be sure, but also of rugged character shaped by a sense of timelessness that we simply don’t have in my own country. To walk around a structure built in 444 B.C. is to taste eternity. We are humans of course, and eternity isn’t ours to embrace just yet. But we may reach for the eternal in the form of development of our character.

      Poseidon was one of the Olympians for the Greeks, presiding over such volatile things as the weather. For a Greek sailing off to fish or fight, Poseidon was a big deal, and someone to cater favor with. He also influenced the temperament of horses, and was known as the “earth shaker” for his power to control earthquakes. So building a temple devoted to Poseidon made a lot of sense, and where better for it than on a prominent cliff overlooking the Aegean Sea on Cape Sounion?

      It’s one thing to read history, quite another to stand on the edge of a cliff between the Aegean Sea and a temple erected 2500 years ago as a tribute to the god who controlled both that sea and the ground we stood on. Best to embrace the spirit of the ancients in such moments, rather than incurring the wrath of Poseidon. And that’s the thing about Greece: you feel that you’re trying to measure up instead of trying to stand out. It’s a subtle difference, but it matters a great deal. It’s not that we aren’t special (our mother’s would insist that we are), it’s that we may be integral to something far beyond our time and place. That’s the Greek character.

      The Temple of Poseidon, 444 BC