Showing posts with label travel. Show all posts
Showing posts with label travel. Show all posts

Thursday, May 29, 2014

The Art of Travel by Alain De Botton



In this, another delightful book from Alain De Botton, of whom I’ve previously read How Proust Can Change Your Life and The Consolations of Philosophy, De Botton once again adroitly mixes personal experience, paintings, literature, and famous figures to explore different aspects of travel. Each chapter is “on”: “On Anticipation”, “On the Exotic”, “On Habit”, and so on. Each chapter is a self-contained essay that explores its chosen topic through a representative figure from history, such as Flaubert, Wordsworth, and Ruskin, to name three of the more familiar figures. Each chapter uses paintings and photography to supplement the words of the essay. “On Traveling Places”, for instance, explores works of Edward Hopper, best known for his work “Nighthawks" (not used here), but who also explored trains, gas stations, and hotel rooms along his way. Finally, De Botton includes his own experiences to provide a contemporary perspective and to sometimes test the ideas of those upon whom he has drawn. 

Part of the pleasure of De Botton’s project comes from his ability to meditate on travel from many different angles. In the opening essay, “On Anticipation”, he tells the tale of J.-K. Huysmans, who decided upon a trip to London from his French residence, only to abandon it after having made all of the necessary arrangements and consulted all of the guide books. After consulting the guidebooks, he decided he’d seen enough! Sometimes, indeed, the imagination of anticipation exceeds the reality of even the most alluring of destinations. In “On the Exotic”, the French novelist Flaubert travels to Egypt to stay and experience an alien world, while Xavier de Maistre writes about his travels around his bedroom, and then his view from his bedroom window in De Botton’s “On Habit” chapter. (De Maistre travels abroad as well.) But even within the limited purview of a bedroom De Maistre finds, upon careful and leisurely inspection, more interesting things either he or we could have imagined. 

De Botton contrasts the city with the country. Samuel Johnson found the Scottish highlands a wasteland that merely created annoyance, while not long after Johnson, Wordsworth sang the praises of the Lake District. Our views of what’s worth visiting and experiencing changes with time and varies according to our temperament. The German scientist Alexander von Humboldt traveled the Amazon basin in the early 19th century to catalogue all that was new to European scientists, loving the challenge and uniqueness of the journey. 

De Botton uses the paintings of Van Gogh to illustrate what might go unnoticed or unappreciated in a region and that can be newly (or perhaps first) appreciated only after viewing a painted facsimile of the scene. Of course, Van Gogh didn’t take a realist perspective, his cypress trees look as if they are on fire and his building are often all akimbo, but he forces us to take a new and closer look at what some once considered the boring countryside of Provence. By abstracting reality, we obtain a better appreciation of it. In a similar vein, Edmund Burke argues that we benefit when Nature overwhelms us with its grandeur and power in a manner that we label “sublime”. 

If you travel or you contemplate travel, De Botton’s book will serve as a meditative preparation, one that you can dip into at leisure, as each chapter constitutes a self-contained essay on some aspect of travel. We humans have been traveling and exploring our world for tens of thousands of years, and now, with travel easier than ever, we need to reflect upon its benefits and pitfalls. And in this, De Botton serves as an excellent guide.

Sunday, May 11, 2014

#Americaheckyeah



We recently completed a brief trip to the U.S. for a wedding. A great time & the occasion for some observations:

Upon landing at O’Hare on non-stop flight from Delhi, we made a beeline to Frontera Grill for some breakfast. If given the opportunity, I think C would leave me in a heartbeat for Rick—if he promised to share his kitchen with her. Well, he wasn’t there & for now she’s satisfied with my company to enjoy some Rick-Mexican goodness. The taste of good quality Mexican food is a real treat. We just don’t get much variety here. While fans of Indian food, we don’t have much of break from it, even on our own.

We arrive on time to DSM. We promptly and efficiently rent our car & are on the road. Aw, the road, where the few vehicles on the road (“Where is everyone?”) and drivers stay in lanes and drive wonderfully predictably. We get on the ring road on the south side of DM and looking out at the countryside we see the beautiful Grant Wood-style fields. Everything so neat, clean, and orderly. Spring is late, but a hue of green is beginning to frame the countryside. What a joy to be behind the wheel through the lovely countryside—even if it is in a Ford Focus with an automatic transmission. 

We arrive at our first destination: the “Super Target” near Jordan Creek Mall. Entering the store, we find it nearly deserted. “Where is everybody?” “Where are the hordes of people?” Although the store seems short of people, it was full of goods. I think that we in the U.S. are way too consumerist and too enamored with stuff, but it is a gift to go to a store to find all kinds of stuff that you need in a roomy, well-organized, friendly atmosphere. We had a long list of stuff we wanted to purchase, and we were just in luck. Lots of stuff, easy to find. Good quality. Wow. We left a lot lighter in the wallet, but with many of our needs met.

We then went to Cheesecake Factory for lunch (no cheesecake!). Not great, but we could order a salad, and we did, along with some steak tips. Yum. A modest but most welcome salad. We get some more stuff & then head to our digs at the Hotel Fort Des Moines, that venerable old institution from days of Republican political gatherings and basketball tournaments. The room had a radiator, which as it turns out, we needed. The down side of our visit at the beginning was the weather: cold, windy, and rainy. With our current tropical locale, this was a shock to the system but not to the mind. The mind remembers. The room was fine but for the slow internet connection and the fact that the shower heads built for short people, which I can never figure.

Downtown Des Moines seems almost like a ghost town. There are people, but so few! It’s so roomy in this part of America. So easy to walk places: the rain, cold, and wind soon give way to sunshine & warmer temperatures. A small but not insignificant joy.

The wedding is a lovely. Happy couple, seeing lots of relatives. Good times all around. Thanks to good planning, everything runs on time. What a great idea! And the wedding, while lovely, was not an extravaganza, unlike some (most) Indian weddings. Good food, but not acres of it; a celebration for family and friends, but not one for every Tom, Dick, and Hari and their gals. Like a good many things, perhaps the expense of America limits everything, and in this case, for the better.

The only downside of the trip (besides loads of jet lag there and upon return here) was that something in the U.S. didn’t agree with my lower GI tract. I was down for a day with a problem the severity of which has never been matched in my India (or Nepal or Mexico) experience. Well, nothing is perfect, not even the good ol’ US of A.

Thursday, August 22, 2013

In Motion: The Experience of Travel by Tony Hiss



 










In Motion: The Experience of Travel by Tony Hiss defies classification. Ostensibly it’s about travel, and it is, especially about what Hiss dubs “Deep Travel”. But Hiss is a talented writer and has an inquiring mind such that his book works much like Montaigne’s Essays: wandering here and there around a common theme. In some authors, of course, this can prove irksome and off-putting, but in this book, I gladly found myself following Hiss’s detours and by-ways as we explored Deep Travel.

Hiss doesn’t ever definitely define Deep Travel, but this is another potential defect that signals that the search is still underway. As a preliminary, we can say that Deep Travel is that journey, around the corner or around the world, that alters our consciousness. Our mind, in its structures and perceptions, alters as we face a new landscape. Thus, while walking home during the 2003 NYC blackout, the familiar hyper-city of NY changes without the flow of electricity, and Hiss experiences views and perspectives that he’d never encountered before. He also draws on the work of others, such as Patrick Leigh Fermor, whose meditation from a bridge crossing a river in the Balkans provides a verbal portrait of this same type of experience. Hiss transitions from experiences of travel as such into psychology, beginning with the great fountainhead of American psychology, William James, and then drawing upon the more recent insights of the late Edward S. Reed, an “ecological psychologist”. Indeed, a list of psychologists, anthropologist, paleontologists, and other writers and thinkers could go on for some length. Hiss explores here and there ideas as they occur to him. Hiss uses places with similar abandon for launching his insights: New Jersey swamps, NYC streets, Balkan Rivers, the primeval African savannah: so many references to place and ideas makes this into a buffet of ideas.

A lot of the latter part of the book concerns human origins and how we developed our brains that allows the psychology of Deep Travel to develop. Hiss argues that along with concentrated attention, daydreaming, and flow, humans developed a “wide-angle awareness” that allows us to scan and consider our environment with the use of our bi-pedal stance and stereoscopic vision. He relates this to the way cats can leisurely pause to wait for prey to place themselves in a position of exposure; that is, not ready to pounce and not indifferent, but widely alert, something called SMR (sensorimotor rhythm). (EEG leads on cat skulls first gave us this insight—I love the image.) One riff that Hiss takes on this is that exploring for knowledge, such as of place, has a built-in pleasure reward (like sex and food) that promotes such behavior.

It’s difficult to review this work because its ideas are so many and diverse as they array around this general topic. For some, this is a hindrance (see William Dalrymple’s critique in his NYT review), but for me, with Montaigne as a model and sufficient rewards for following Hiss’s curiosity, I really enjoyed the book. I highly recommend it to anyone who has the curiosity to follow him around in this journey of a book—and who has a yen to experience Deep Travel.

Cross-posted in SNG Thoughts blog

Monday, August 19, 2013

Reflections on Puebla, Mexico

C and I arrived in Puebla late at night about 10 days ago, and after hitting the bed early, we awoke to explore Puebla, a city of about 4 million located about 2 hours drive from Mexico City. We stayed in a monastery converted into a hotel (common on Latin America) in the old town, the centro. Walking down narrow stone streets and sidewalks, we quickly found the zocolo, or town square, with the cathedral on one side and the palacio municipal on the other as one expects in old colonial cities so that the sacred and secular authorities could keep an eye on each other.


But the traditional look and architecture, at once familiar and yet still new to us, did not make so great an impression as the liveliness of the city and its people. We spent a good time in and around the zocolo, from late morning to late at night, and it teemed with people virtually all hours of the day: children playing with balloons or balls, families strolling, players performing, and young couples huddling. The public space seemed ideal. The police were present, but not obtrusive, and never in our time did we see or hear of any violence or disturbance. (Persons using loudspeakers, especially during what appeared to be a political protest, we’re the greatest bother that we encounter. Few, if any, should be ever granted access to a loudspeaker.) Around the zocolo restaurants and shops pulled people in for daily needs and more opportunities to talk, eat, and hang out. The side streets contained small shops and well as street vendors (everything from books to shawls to paintings to old everythings). We even found a Woolworth(‘s) store, from which C picked up some items. How could we resist? (We both have primal memories of the wood-floored Woolworth’s of our youth on main street in Shenandoah).


C, who has been to Puebla twice before, tantalized me in advance with the claim that it is the gastronomical capital of Mexico. Based on what she brought back in the way of new recipes from her cooking classes there last year, I was an easy sell. Puebla lived up to its billing. In fact, our hotel in the centro, Maison de Sacristia, includes the restaurant where she took her lessons. The food there was out of sight. Muy rico, muy sobroso, muy delicioso! We enjoyed another couple of high-end places as well (including an Argentinian steak house to mix it up a bit), but on the other end of the spectrum, we went to a small tacqueria arrabe near the zocolo filled with locals. Wow! For a few bucks we had some great tacos, a side of onions (for me only,) and carne en queso. Yum! If Puebla has a challenger for better food in Mexico, please don’t take me there, I’m afraid I’d blow-up a la Monty Python.


After about three days staying in the centro at Sacristia, we moved to the edge of town, which was deemed better for getting C to and from her workshops. It was a modern hotel with nice amenities, but perhaps the best amenity was that on the 7th floor we could see the world around us, which included mountains and volcano s.(As perhaps a remnant of when our remotest ancestors evolved on the African savannah, one thing that bothers me about old cities such as those of Latin America are the narrow streets and uniform buildings that cut off views of the horizon and other signals of place, leaving one a sense of uncertainty about one’s greater surroundings, ameliorated somewhat by the careful grid upon which the streets are laid out.)  


As mornings in Puebla were clear, crisp, and sunny, we had excellent view of the volcano Popocatepetl (Popo), a  magnificent site, similar to Mt. Rainier near  Seattle (which can prove a real phantom for occasional visitors like me.) During our trip to nearby Chalupa on Saturday, and on our trip here to Metepec, Popo put on a show. Saturday it raised a huge plume of smoke and ash into the air, and on Sunday as we traveled past it we saw clouds and ash shrouding the peak in a manner that I imagine Mt. Sinai was shrouded when Moses went there to meet with God. As a sight it awesome and magnificent.


Puebla lies at about 7,000 feet above sea level on a plain. The crisp, sunny early mornings are followed in the afternoon by a build up of clouds (which we could see rolling in from our 7th story room) that resulted in some rain in the later afternoon or evening. Interestingly, it never seemed to empty the centro or zocolo, which remained vibrant regardless. The streets were clean and well-maintained. This part of Mexico, at least, seems reasonably prosperous and well-governed.

I’ll have more to report in further posts, but I can say that Puebla was a real treat, and if you have a chance to visit, do it.