Alexandersmap

    Category: Travel

    • The Time to Acclimate

      How long does it take to acclimate to a place? Not just the climate or the language or the way people drive, but also the way you think about the place you left behind to go there, and the way you feel about what you’ll regret leaving when you return. For aren’t these the truest indicators of acclimation? When you’ve lingered in a place just long enough that it seeps into your being?

      Most travel is a dalliance with a destination. We swoop in, check the box and dash off to our next destination to check the next box. There’s no acclimation—there’s barely a chance for more than a surface-level awareness of where we are. We see the site, stay in the place, snap the Instagram photo and move on. How can this possibly be considered immersive travel?

      It took a full 24 hours to figure out the bells in Italy. It took another two days before I stopped looking at my watch to confirm the time. I imagine another month or two and I’d just know what time it was without ever hearing the bells at all. When we travel we swim in that place’s unique environment either way. Should we stay in the shallow end or dive deeply?

      We ought to linger more. Get a feel for the place. Acclimate.

      Lingering in places unique and wonderful

    • Go, Deeply

      “Nobody ever figures out what life is all about, and it doesn’t matter. Explore the world. Nearly everything is really interesting if you go into it deeply enough.” — Richard P. Feynman

      Each day is an opportunity to discover—inching further along on our search for more insight into who we are. We may never find the true meaning of life, but why do we even dwell on such things? Meaning comes from action. We ought to live deliberately and stack the building blocks into whatever form suits us in our brief dance with the world.

      The world unfolds for us one moment at a time. What do we do with that experience? Shouldn’t we layer it into our identity, not in arrogant claims of global box-checking, but in accumulated bits of flavor and influence? What makes us interesting is our passionate interest in the complex dynamics playing out around us, be that human tendencies or the larger forces in the universe. Immersive travel, reading, listening and education are where we serve our apprenticeship in being citizens of the universe.

      So just when do we transcend apprenticeship? Can we ever, really? We reach closer to mastery when we venture more deeply into the act of living. Boldly layering experience and accumulated knowledge into a rich, meaningful life. And maybe that’s just enough.

    • The Magic Is in the Smallest Things

      Walking around in Salzburg, Austria offers a visual feast of bustling streets and five squares, the Salzach River, the Salzburg Cathedral, the cafes and biergartens, and above all, the Hohensalzburg Fortress high atop Festungsberg hill. The core hardscape is essentially the same for us as it was for Mozart 250 years ago. You can feel history with every step in this city. You can hear the whispers of all those who came before you.

      One small detail struck me more powerfully than all the ornamentation in Salzburg combined. Walking along the Getreidegasse, with all its shops and people from all over the world, I came across a doorway with four pull cables that ran up the outside wall to the four floors above, each cable run to the inside of each apartment. It was an old doorbell system from the days before electricity, still functional today. I wanted to ring the bell and ask the local resident if I could see the bell on the other side of the cable. And imagine this has likely happened many times on such a busy street with such a tantalizing pull readily at hand for those returning from biergartens late in the day.

      It’s funny the things that stick with you when you travel. I look for small details like this wherever I go, for these details are where the magic is. The smallest things speak the loudest if you’ll only slow down long enough to listen.

      Doorbell pulls from another era

    • Encountering Seceda

      “Take the time to put the camera away and gaze in wonder at what’s there in front of you.” — Erick Widman

      Somehow, when visiting the one place I’d circled as a must-see on this weekend diversion south from Austria and Bavaria, I’d left both cameras behind. Realizing it halfway up the first cable car I cursed out loud, startling my wife buried in terror in my chest. She has a distinct fear of heights and the journey up to Seceda was a big ask. But at least she’d remembered her iPhone. Damage mitigated.

      When you walk out from that second cable car and the world opens up around you, it feels otherworldly. The spiky peaks, the snow-capped vista far off in the distance, and the green alpine meadows beginning at your feet each draw the eye and boggle the mind. I envy the people who see this for the first time stepping out to greet it. For me, YouTube videos had teased the view for months. Yet it exceeds expectations anyway.

      Without a camera, I forced myself to soak it all in. iPhone 10 image quality? Good enough. I’ll leave it for the hordes of Instagramers and YouTubers with their drones and expensive cameras and models to better capture the essence of the place. For me, this will do.

      We spent a few hours with the view, borrowing my wife’s phone for some pictures but mostly leaving well enough alone. This was a sign telling me to relax a bit with the Instagram feed. Gaze with a healthy dose of wonder at the world around you.

    • Early Morning Walk in Castelrotto

      As an American from the northeast, I know all about traffic, but it was a surprise to encounter so much of it on the stretch from Hohenschwangau, Germany to Castelrotto, Italy. Then again, it was a beautiful Saturday morning and the world seemed to be going on holiday. Chalk it up to poor planning on my part. If there was a silver lining, the drive was stunningly beautiful and all that sitting at a standstill allowed me to look around.

      When we finally got to Castelrotto, we weren’t inclined to jump right back into the car and leave this lovely little town. A brief walk after dinner revealed the character of the place, which prompted an early morning walk before the bell tower started its daily ritual of marking time beginning at 6 AM. The magic in any place is revealed on the edges of the day, for me that time before the world wakes up is most special. And so it was that I fell in love with this little town that seemed impossible to get to the day before.

      There are three languages spoken here, and the locals seem to know a few more than that. Italian, German and Ladin are the core languages, which reveals both geography and a history of land grabbing. World War I settled the border, but the locals seem to roll with it and pivot quickly to whatever language you’re speaking. After my brief stumbling with German, that generously included English. No matter, the beauty of the place transcends my words anyway.

    • The Gumption to Go

      “Fear is for people who don’t get out very much.” – Rick Steves

      Crossing borders is a thrill when we’re prepared for a trip. Landing in places foreign to us is liberating when our mind is open to fully experience it. As with anything fully realized, we get out of it what we put into it.

      Some people have a fear of flying. Some of us have a fear of not flying! There’s a whole crazy world awaiting us, should we have the gumption to go. Shall we?

      Most definitely!

    • Widening Circles


      I live my life in widening circles
      that reach out across the world.
      I may not complete this last one
      but I will give myself to it.

      I circle around God, around the primordial tower.
      I’ve been circling for thousands of years
      and I still don’t know: am I a falcon,
      a storm, or a great song?
      — Rainer Maria Rilke

      This act of giving ourselves to it—to experiencing life and being an active part in the dance, is what living is all about. You want meaning in your life? Give yourself to it. Don’t recede into the corner, for we aren’t meant to be wallflowers. Get out and mingle. Find those kindred spirits looking for a spark.

      Readers know I embrace solitude wholeheartedly for the conversation I might have with myself. I celebrate the offseason as much as anyone! Yet those closest to me observe that I actively engage with everyone around me. And why not? Aren’t we all fellow passengers on this cruise through the briefest of time? We ought to give ourselves to the mission and be fully alive in our moment together.

      Today is the beginning of another circle, reaching wider than the last, and carrying us to places previously unencountered. Give yourself to it! The world opens up for us through deliberate intent. Reach out and thrill in where it takes us.

    • Pack Light

      “Travel like Ghandi, with simple clothes, open eyes and an uncluttered mind.” – Rick Steves

      Packing for a trip, or for a hike, informs. It teaches us what we can do without. And it turns out we can do without a lot of things. Add a few layers, a few event-specific bits of fashion if you must, and always (always!) good shoes. Don’t forget your toothbrush. If you have to weigh your suitcase to keep it under the limit you’re doing something wrong. The goal with suitcases and backpacks is the same: maximize the empty space available to you. Simplify.

      The lesson here naturally applies to all things. We ought to live a more simple, uncluttered life. We ought to speak less and listen more. We ought to write with more brevity and fewer clever words we throw around too often (like brevity).

      We carry too much baggage with us. We use too many words. We speak too much. Simplify and open enough space to experience the world. Navigate the world as a poet might do. With lightness and an eye for detail.

    • Horizons

      An old trick, this habit of scanning the horizon in search of a challenging quadrant and wondering: Is this my destiny? A childish trick, for we know if we go far enough we’re bound to return full circle—to the point of departure.. What is it about that horizon? What lies on the other side? Not just ships and land and more of the same old ocean—but what is the magic that calls…and who am I fooling really? — Sterling Hayden, Wanderer

      We each look to the horizon, wondering at our destiny. Some look and feel it too far a journey, and maybe it is. Maybe we aren’t meant to endlessly follow the horizon. Then again, maybe we gaze out at such a distance as a way to stop us from ever going in the first place.

      “A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step” — Lao Tzu

      Focus too much on the horizon and you’ll surely stumble. Focus too much on the step in front of you and you’ll find yourself going in circles. The answer, of course, is to keep one eye towards the horizon with the other on this next step.

      As Hayden points out, the funny thing about chasing horizons is that you’ll eventually end up going full circle back to where you began. What he doesn’t say is that you’ll be a different person upon your return. Surely you’ll look at where you started in a whole new light.

      We chase all sorts of horizons through travel and writing and learning new things. A quest doesn’t always mean setting sail, but the analogy holds true nonetheless. For when we chase horizons we’re embarking on a journey of transformation. We all ought to chase horizons, for deep down, we know we can’t stay where we’ve been. Not when there’s so much out there for us.

    • How Much Alive

      “It matters not where or how far you travel—the farther commonly the worse—but how much alive you are.” — Henry David Thoreau

      Sitting outside, listening to birdsong in the magic hour before the world shook the cobwebs off, I watched a couple of large birds fluttering tree-to-tree. I wondered at them, thinking perhaps pileated woodpeckers who tend to behave this way, or maybe a couple of young turkeys waking up from their roost. Definitely not hawks on the hunt. Black and white with a bit of duck-like appearance to them, I quickly exhausted my list of possibilities and remained mystified. The binoculars and camera remained safely in the house where they offered the least amount of help in the moment. So I quietly thanked them for their visit and released them from my attention as they worked their way away from my own perch. I may find out yet who my visitors were, but it wasn’t our moment for a proper introduction.

      We aren’t meant to know everything, but we ought to be curious. We all seek answers in this world. We climb to high summits, fly to faraway places, seek solace in the new. Shouldn’t we celebrate the world as it comes to us? Why do we feel compelled to fly across the globe? Because we know it’s out there, and like those birds, once we’re aware of that fact we want to know a bit more about it.

      Thoreau traveled too, he just wasn’t collecting frequent flyer miles or navigating security lines. He sought faraway places relative to his time and place, traveling to Cape Cod and Maine and paddling down the Concord and then up the Merrimack Rivers. He sought what was just out of reach just as we do. Credit the pace of travel if you will, but he didn’t postpone his aliveness for when he arrived at his destination, he encountered it in each moment along the way. Shouldn’t we do the same?