In the waning hours of Walkabout 2007 I pen this post from the premium transit lounge of
Saturday, March 31, 2007
Sic Transit Glorious Walkabout
Travel -- Why bother?
Why do we leave the familiar and comfortable and journey to places far and strange? In these final days of this global adventure of mine a little synthesis is due. I offer for your consideration Walkabout’s Theory of Travel (which I will abbreviate as “TOT” for no particular reason, since I won’t use the abbreviation ever again).
First off, travel isn’t the same as going places. Lots of people fly long distances just to see cool stuff that happens to be far away. They are just sight seeing. If Machu Pichu or the Pyramids were in
I don’t disdain that sort of voyaging. There is no law that says you need to play amateur archeologist or anthropologist. Sometimes you just want to look at something bigger than yourself and say “wow!” And I’ve purposefully ticked off a considerable number of the “1000 Things to See Before you Die” on this little outing of mine, just to whittle down the list. I haven’t done the final tally, but I suspect at this point that if I maintain a rate of one per month I’ve got a fighting shot, assuming standard actuarial tables and what not.
Or sometimes people go places far away just to warm up in the winter or cool down in the summer. That’s not travel as I mean it, just climate control by airplane. Once they are on the beach and have learned the local phrase for “bring me another pina colada” they could care less what hemisphere they are in.
Real travel in the Walkaboutian sense of the term means going to unfamiliar places, where people, language, culture or environment are different and perhaps challenging, in order to experience those differences. Those elements are not obstacles on your way to the pile of stones or the beach, they are the reason you are there. And, rather than insulating yourself from the experience through fancy hotels, familiar food and escorted tours, you immerse yourself in it.
Opening ourselves up to the travel experience entails discomfort, confusion and effort. But the payoff is immense. We go through our day to day lives seeing just a small fraction of what is around us. We are so accustomed to things that we no longer pay attention, since everything is where and how we expect it to be. Our houses, cars, streets and cities, restaurants, shops, neighbors, language and customs are all so familiar that we no longer see them. But in a foreign land we are required to open our senses since things are different in ways great and small. As a small thing, I wrote in a previous blog about foreign power outlets, which use weird shapes and voltages – when was the last time you gave any thought to electrical fixtures? As a stranger in a strange land you find yourself in a surprising and interesting world. It is a throwback to when you were a child and things as mundane as power outlets were new and curious. You went through life with your eyes wide open, taking it all in with a sense of wonder. In a word, that is what travel is about – wonder. In our day to day lives we can go months at a time without really experiencing it. When you travel properly, you are experiencing about as much of it as you can absorb.
This sort of wonder doesn’t require a “Wonder of the World”, or something listed in the “1000 Places to See Before You Die” book. In Phnom Phen I saw someone transporting perhaps 50 live ducks on the back of a motorbike, dangling squawking by the feet. Throughout
There are satisfactions that come from this sort of travel, when you are open and receptive to new thoughts and experiences. You have the satisfied feeling of knowing that a tiny bit more of the infinite strangeness and variety of this world is now captured within you. You feel you are living a little more intensely and fully than you typically do when at home.
The flip side is that it is draining, and there is a limit to how long one can do it productively. At a certain point you start becoming numb to the experience. And after three months of travel I expect I have reached that point. Initially I made an effort to learn as much of the language, history and customs of each country I was visiting. But of late I have to work on waking up to remember which country I’m in, and if I can recall how to say hello in the local lingo I consider it sufficient. In paying for a purchase I sometimes open my wallet and point to the dollars, bhat and dong therein and ask which of this stuff they take. The three month duration of this trip was something of a compromise. I thought nine months would be a good trip and Kathy suggested 90 days, so we settled on three months. As usual, Kathy was right and it’s time to come home.
The trick, of course, is to use the practice you get in traveling at keeping your eyes open, and the exercise that you have given your sense of wonder, when you are back home. I intend to put this all to great use to enrich all aspects of my day to day life back in
Your faithful correspondent,
Walkabout Dave
Saturday, March 10, 2007
The most depressing Walkabout post yet!
Half way down the 15 kilometer road it became clear there was a problem. The engine sound became more of a “…tuk……tuk……tuk” and we slowed to a crawl. The driver pretended nothing was wrong as he tried to eek enough out of the machine to finish the trip. He clearly was terrified I would bail out and he would lose his fare. I helped by getting out to push it up several hills. When we finally reached the killing fields I left him tinkering frantically with the engine while I looked for a fellow tourist to beg a ride back. When I told my driver I wouldn’t be going back with him, but gave him the remaining $11 anyway, he practically hugged me.
Perhaps it’s a function of my age, but the whole Cambodian tragedy looms large in my psyche. I vividly remember seeing it on the news, reading about it in the daily paper, and being moved by Sydney Schanberg’s reporting in the New York Times and his later book and movie. Perhaps at that point, in my early 20s, I was still idealistic enough to be surprised, shocked, and horrified that despite vows of “never again” the world was sitting idly by watching the deaths of millions of innocents. Since then we’ve seen genocide in
And while the Cambodian genocide happened 30 years ago, in
Yes, there are signs of new life. Some buildings are being repaired and many small shops are open. And perhaps I am being too bleak. But it seems more like desperation than vitality. I never got my Tuk tuk driver’s story; he didn’t speak enough English and the volume of a Tuk tuk isn’t conducive to conversation. But he was undoubtedly a victim, one way or another, of his country’s wars and its barren peace. I wonder whether as we were driving to the killing fields he was thinking of his friends and relatives who must certainly lie interred there. Or was he only wondering whether he would earn enough to eat that night and repair his Tuk tuk to start again tomorrow.
Your faithful correspondent,
Walkabout Dave
Who among us is so small as to not love an Elephant?
I did a two day trek – several hours of hiking each way with an overnight stay in one of the villages. It was a fascinating visit, and I don’t want to dismiss the dramatic differences you can still see in their way of life. They live on very little, have few material possessions, and do seem to be happy. I just wonder if their increasing contact with our civilization will change that though. They didn’t know they were poor until we arrived to show them.
On the way up we visited an elephant preserve and had a chance to ride elephants for an hour or so. They really are marvelous creatures, and it is one of the great deficiencies of our modern lifestyle that elephants no longer participate. I feel we should encourage greater elephant usage and propose, as a modest first step, that we require all parking lots to have at least one elephant space. It could be located next to the handicapped space, and would be similar in size but would have one of those elevated platforms for mounting and dismounting the beast.
Your faithful correspondent
Walkabout Dave
A tale of two cities
From
I will say that
I visited the
Your faithful correspondent,
Walkabout DaveMonday, March 5, 2007
Charting the Peregrinations of the Walkabout
I note with mixed feeling that the blue line is now longer than the red and that at my present stopping point in
Your faithful correspondent,
Walkabout Dave
Thursday, March 1, 2007
I have seen the future, and it is pretty creepy
In a few short decades
The
Beyond efficiency, the place is pretty. There are extensive public parks between the skyscrapers. The architecture is innovative and sometimes interesting. The harbor and river from an attractive setting for open air restaurants and bars. The streets and highways are lined with lush plantings. Public art – murals, mosaics, fountains and sculpture -- is everywhere. I went on a walking tour of the old harbor district that was cleverly illustrated with life-size bronze figures– coolies unloading bullock carts, money lenders on the docks, street urchins diving into the river, and so on.
The thing about
It’s clearly a hardworking city, but there is nothing grim about it. Leisure activities of choice seem to be primarily of shopping and eating, and opportunities for both are everywhere. For fun and games there is an extensive recreation complex on the offshore
So what is the catch? I’m not sure there is one. A typical criticism you hear of
“What gives, Walkabout?” I hear you cry. “We look to you as a noble defender of freedom and civil liberties, even though you have never really done anything beyond make small annual contributions to organizations that pester you sufficiently by mail. Yet here you are, making apologies for what appears to be a Nazi Disneyland.” And you make a valid point, at least as to my nobility. But it is more complicated than that. I don’t think that disorder equates to freedom or that order is by any means its enemy. I’d go so far as to say assert that disorder more frequently results in loss of freedoms (cases look at Weimer
The criticism of
A good illustration is the new
The problem is it was all ghastly. They had managed to sandblast away any history in the original building and produce an empty glass box. It looked like the product of a faceless committee that had surveyed national museums around the world, found out what was most popular, and then awarded contacts to local marketing companies to put together flashy films or displays. It was one of the more boring and depressing places I’ve been. And this is their place to show visitors what their country is all about!
So my basic criticism is of the corporate mentality permeating the place. Corporations can be real good at running profitable businesses. They can put together neat and tidy and profitable shopping malls and office towers, but they fall short on tasks requiring creativity and inspiration and where that is needed what they produce is often hollow. The best corporations recognize this as a challenge and look for ways to free up the creativity of their employees. But it is a challenge, since the essence of a corporation is that you are responsible up the chain and ultimately will be judged not on creativity but on measurable contributions to the bottom line. We certainly have plenty of this attitude in the
Your faithful correspondent,
Walkabout Dave
Note to Self –
Self, this post is long and tedious. It lacks the crisp wit we strive for. Where is the irony? The tortured logic, paradox and self-referential maze that characterize a good Walkabout post are entirely missing. As is the schizoid trick where we create a foil to argue both sides of an issue. (Well, actually there is a bit of that in the 7th paragraph. Quite right, sorry, and also in this Note, now that I mention it.) Also, we never get around to abusing our sub-sentient scum of a readership. This is definitely not a candidate for the ‘best of the Walkabout Blog’ reruns we will post over the Summer. Most importantly, remember to delete this Note when we post to the blog! I mean the entire Note, not just the
Tuesday, February 27, 2007
You don't scare me, Mr. Vice President
Call me paranoid, but just a few days ago I was in Australia and the Vice President made a state visit. Now I'm in Singapore and he made an "unscheduled" stop. I think I'm being stalked by Dick Cheney.
Now those of you who have followed this blog from the beginning know it is not about politics. I have scrupulously avoided making any disparaging comments about our shit-for-brains President or his minions. I have no wish to gratuitously offend any of the cretinous imbeciles who still support this administration. And I have nothing but respect for the office of the President. After all, I'm a pretty fair carpenter but wouldn't know where to begin to make an oval-shaped room.
But now Cheney has taken the gloves off. I don't know whether he intends to reveal that my wife Kathy is a CIA operative (oops ... I guess at this point he needn't bother ...) or plans to mistake my face for a quail (he wouldn't be the first), but whatever his dark satanic scheme is, I'm prepared.
I must go now. I'm hearing strange noises, like the tick tick tick of a pacemaker and the trickle and ooze of a few drops of blood through a network of stents barely capable of supporting life.
Is that you, Mr. Cheney? No, Mr. Cheney don't, please don't....
Argh, argh......
Argh....
Your faithful correspondent,
Walkabout Dave
Sunday, February 25, 2007
Notes from the land down under
The flight over from
I was only in
Even though I have now officially been to
Your faithful correspondent,
Walkabout Dave
We open up the Walkabout reader mailbag
Couch Potato Greg takes umbrage at my criticism of the readership for not commenting. Rest assured, Couch Potato (and I’m sure you do little else but rest) I was not referring to you, or to Loyal Reader or Faithful Reader either for that matter. You are all illustrative of what I am looking for in my blogocites – loyal, faithful, and not overly feisty. (By the way Couch Potato, I was thinking of you in writing about the Segway. It would make a great commuting vehicle to take you from your armchair to the refrigerator for a fresh beer.)
Luddite, on the other hand, may become a problem. Responding to my epistle on fear and bungee jumping he asks “How about you confront your fear of full time employment here in the good ol' US of A?” Firstly, my dear Ludd, a certain tone of respect is due me as Blog Master. Perhaps I have myself to blame. Some posts ago I referred to one reader as an “obsequious moron” and I’m afraid this may have been misinterpreted. I was concerned that the term “moron”, though entirely accurate, might come across as overly harsh. I added the modifier “obsequious” to temper it and give credit where credit was due. I meant it in the positive sense of “slavish”, “fawning” or “sycophantic”, qualities that are certainly admirable in those who comment on this Blog.
As for the substance of Luddite’s query, in the words of Ecclesiastes, “to everything there is a season, and a time for every purpose under heaven”. This is my season for slacking off. Please don’t cramp my style. And when I do finally get around to looking for a job I will be able to add at the bottom of my resume those magic words that all employers look for: “Segway-capable and bungee-tested.” When coupled with my other obvious qualifications (for example, I always know the exact amount of time to reheat anything in a microwave) I will be virtually un-unemployable. And don’t forget, I will have a weather predicting howler monkey to accompany me on all my interviews. Enough said on the subject of job search. We will speak of this no more.
To Faithful Reader and Loyal Reader, thank you for your faithful and loyal comments. But are you sure you are separate individuals? If so you might want to meet up as you have much in common. And yes, I would urge you to get the physical conditioning program cracking post-haste. After all my adventures to date I have legs like steel bands. Unless yours are of titanium quality, or at least molybnium, you have no hope of keeping up. If they are merely rubber bands, perhaps you should try bungee jumping.
Solesister, feels that there is a diagnostic code for someone who bungee jumps at age 50. Yes there is: IB2Gr84U! You clearly overlook the therapeutic potential of the b-jump. Think of it as a replication of the birth trauma, but with a longer umbilical cord. Also, no one charged me $300 to be born. The screaming was much the same though.
To KC, it is wonderful to see you emerge from your lurking shadows, even if it is to question my sexual orientation just because I accompanied my dear family on the Sound of Music Tour in
Anonymous writes “I want to see the turtles! Come on everyone - TURTLES! TURTLES! TURTLES”. For shame! And you wonder why you remain anonymous!
the boo offers a puzzler in the Korean tongue. The word is pronounced: ban-chi choam-puh and relates to bungee jumping. She provides the unhelpful hint that there is no J in the Korean alphabet. I am at a loss. Any Korean scholars out there?
Tom's Neighbor offers to link me up to other bloggers. But Walkabout is like the shark, he swims alone, a lonely predator of the deep… (Oh yea, Walkabout was going to bag that analogy before he gets locked up). I’m still new to this blogging stuff. What does it mean to link to another blog. Is there a risk of infection? Is it true that you are linking to any blog they have ever linked to? In theory I am open to anything that will help spread Walkabout’s good news, and am considering morphing this from a travel blog to an evangelical religion. I could live on the t-shirt sales alone.
pizzadawgy! Wants to know if she can come on my next midlife crisis. Sorry pizzadawgy, but my next crisis will be a latelife crisis in which I will be hobbling the world in my walker, looking for good bingo games. I don’t think you would enjoy it. But you can certainly have your own early-life crisis. I’m sure your parents would appreciate that. And there’s still time to get it out of the way before your next regularly scheduled crisis (called being a teenager).
Petey wants to know how come I never mention any dogs in my blog. It is curious he should bring that up since, entirely coincidentally, I was preparing to inaugurate a new blog feature – Dogs of the Pacific Rim. For our first installment, here’s a photo I took while visiting friends on the
They have eight dogs! No two alike (like snowflakes) though a preponderance of terriers. I couldn’t get them to line up for the photo.
They also have five cats, a ratio that puts the cats at a distinct disadvantage. Does anyone know a mathematical formula to establish the proper ratio of cats to dogs in multi-animal households?
Also, they didn’t have a single collie. Have you ever noticed that you don’t see collies anymore? When I was growing up, in the Lassie days, every second dog seemed to be a collie. Boys named Timmy couldn’t get themselves trapped in caves without collies lining up to form search parties or weave their collars into rescue ladders. Where have all the collies gone? Perhaps they are like the elves who, in the waning days of middle earth, saw that their time was over and sailed off to the far elfin lands. If I ever find myself in collie land, pizzadawgy!, I’ll be sure to report fully.
To those commentors I have missed, my apologies. Send me another note and I will catch up next time we reach into the Walkabout reader mailbag.
Your faithful correspondent,
Walkabout Dave
Saturday, February 24, 2007
Dave braves the depths of Mordor and returns to brag about it
I have completed the fabled Tongiriro Crossing in the central North Island of New Zealand. This is a 10 mile trek climbing 900 meters up and across a wild mountain plateau, threading between three majestic and sometimes active volcanic peaks, across ancient dry volcanic lake beds and around not so dry volcanic lakes. It crosses landscapes so alien and striking that I have given up all hope of written description and finally gone to the bother of figuring out how to post pictures.
Here goes:
If that tallest peak looks eerily familiar, no you are not channeling back to some ancient past life as a Maori. Rather, that is Mount Doom, deep in the depths of Mordor, where Frodo and his faithful sidekick Sam, accompanied by Gollum, went to return the ring of power to the fires from which it was forged. They did some special effects to the top to get it to spew fire (in the studio, I mean, not to the actual volcano), but otherwise it looks pretty much as I recall from the film.
Here's a photo of your faithful correspondent approaching Mt Doom. You can see how the dark power of the ring is weakening me; the evil wizard Sauren finding my weakest point and sending his orc hosts against them (my iliotibial bands of course). But I persevered with minimal ITB issues. Take that, forces of darkness!
Here are some more photos of terrain that may look familiar to LOR fans:
Altogether an excellent hike and much recommended.
Your faithful correspondent,
Walkabout Dave
Stupid things foreigners do that annoy me, part 2
Cricket, on the other hand, is a ridiculous sport and for that reason I am naming it number 2 on my list of things foreigners do that annoy me. Baseball is clearly a more highly evolved game and once it was invented by Abner Doubleday (or whomever – that’s one argument I could care less about) cricket should have gracefully faded to extinction. But it didn’t. It’s as though people still rode those funny bicycles with the enormous wheel now that we have 15 speed racing cycles. The key innovation of baseball is that there are parameters that constantly change as the game progresses, including balls, strikes, outs, men on base, batter up and on deck, and so on. These create moments of drama and tension that are simply missing in cricket. Too, in baseball, runs tend to come in clumps -- once men start getting on base it is possible to start chalking up large totals -- so dramatic comebacks are always possible even into the last inning. (By the way, do you think that “Too” is a grammatically-correct way to start a sentence? I don’t but thought I’d give it a try. Sorry for the interruption.) In cricket there is a sameness throughout, and aside from the bowler and batter most of the players don’t seem to have anything much to do for hours at a time.
So as to better report to you, my faithful readers, I watched a fair amount of the
While I am adding to my list of stupid things foreigners do that annoy me, let me mention that the British serve a fruit and bread pudding they call "spotted dick". Though a fine name for a disease this is obviously a ludicrous name for a dessert. That they share it with their Commonwealth is reason enough to be glad we fought a revolution. Now despite my collection of advanced degrees I’ll be the first to admit that I never emotionally graduated junior high school. But some things are just too great a temptation and I don’t think Mother Theresa could avoid the giggles if they tried to serve her some spotted dick. And she’s dead. Here's the astonishing part – they don’t even realize how juvenile they sound. When one English member of my bicycle tour group had the effrontery to offer to share his spotted dick with me I had no choice but to illustrate their error by telling them about an American dessert called "Inflamed Testicles". Oh what hilarity ensued as they gullibly asked the others in the group whether they had ever had Inflamed Testicles. That would have had them rolling in the halls at
Your faithful correspondent,
Walkabout Dave
Go North, middle aged man
From
I took a guided tour of the city. But no buses for your intrepid Walkabout; as part of my commitment to remain on the cutting edge of societal evolution I Segwayed. You remember the Segway -- that miraculous new personal transportation device introduced to much mystery and hype a few years back. Then we didn’t hear anything more about it, except when Bush fell off one. Well they are still around and turn out to be a nifty way to do a city tour, at least for a compact place like
Before I segue from the Segway though, I will say that I’m not sure it works yet as a mobility device for the elderly. It is a little tricky at higher speeds and not the sort of thing you would put a frail and brittle-boned aunt on. You also need to stand up, which is a tiring for extended periods. I expect there’s further work to be done on that front. At present, other than as a toy better uses would be for police patrolling in urban environments or for commutes between home and local mass transit stations.
The natural history of
As we saw in the Galapagos, without mammals filling their customary niches other species evolved in unique ways. Without grazing mammals, numerous species of flightless birds evolved – including the colossal Moa which reached 12 feet in height and weighed up to 550 pounds, a sort of bird giraffe. Without tigers or wolves the giant Haast eagle with a 10 foot wingspan evolved to be a terrifying predator. And the Kiwi itself, the symbol of
The original natural world of
All these effects accelerated by orders of magnitude once the Europeans arrived. They intentionally introduced numerous new plant and animal species and engaged in wholesale burning in an effort to turn
But if you look more closely at the landscapes of
Your faithful correspondent,
Sunday, February 18, 2007
From the department of cross cultural sensitivity…
Saturday, February 17, 2007
There was a Canon S70! When come such another?
It is with great sorrow that I must report the passing of a valued member of Team Walkabout – my Canon camera. I appreciate that since I haven’t gotten around to posting any of my photos the significance of this loss won’t be fully apparent. But trust me, it hurts deeply. I am of the "take pictures first, ask questions later" school of traveling. Given the marvel of cost-free digital photography I take hundreds each day. There will be plenty of time when I get home to look at them and figure out if it was a good trip. With my camera gone it is a unique opportunity to look at the world unfiltered through a viewfinder. Who am I kidding – it is a unique opportunity to buy a new toy. The only question is whether to buy one while I am still in
My camera died during the single rain storm we experienced on our biking trip. It was in the front compartment of the canvas handle-bar bag on the bike, conveniently placed so that I could get at it without stopping the bike. The rain soaked through and I failed to follow the elementary rule on electronics and water, which I repeat here as a Walkabout public service: if it gets wet, remove the battery immediately and don’t turn it on until it has fully dried out.
Here's the curious thing though – of the nine of us on the bike trip, two others had digital cameras die in the same way in the same rain storm. I ask you – coincidence, or cause of action? Look at it this way – Adventure South provided the bicycles and the bags, they led us on a tour through the wettest part of
My efforts to organize a class action were met with grumbles about litigious Americans and several lawyers jokes – all of which I have heard before. And I really don’t intend to sue over an almost obsolete $500 camera. I’m not that psychotic. But the elements of a claim do seem to be here (duty of care, breach, damages and causation). And perhaps they should be, since some fear of liability on Adventure South’s part might save some cameras and avoid some aggravation. Or it might just increase costs and reduce availability of bike tours and adventure sports that are a key draw here. And for that reason, or just because of a culture of self reliance,
But I don’t think we are nearly as out of whack in the
Based on these facts, I’d say the jury in the McDonalds case was pretty much on target. I’d also say that overall you have far more instances where fear of litigation improves service and drives dangerous products off the market than where it stifles legitimate innovation. Like the Ford Pinto which tended to blow up in any rear end collision, or lawn darts which frequently impaled themselves in children’s sculls. I’m proud to be a lawyer. Of course, I am a corporate lawyer, and not like those ambulance-chasing trial lawyer scum…
Your faithful correspondent,
Walkabout Dave