5 Reasons to Travel

[I will follow up next week on this post with “5 Reasons Not to Travel;” I figured I’d begin on a positive note.]

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Some day-hiking in Holyhead, Wales back in 2010. Alas, my hair doesn’t look like that anymore.

It’s like everyone travels these days. There are a billion travel blogs; a billion travel agents or booking sites trying to offer some special deal on hotels, flights, or vacation; a billion exotic photos flooding Instagram. And they are all trying to WOW you into submission.  It can be rather overwhelming for the inexperienced traveler. Or jealousy-inducing for those without deep pockets. Or disillusioning for experienced travelers who suddenly realize their totally awesome adventure is not so unique after all (a clear sign of our extreme individualism…don’t worry, I’m right there with you).

Millennials are changing the landscape of modern vacations. They are traveling significantly more than their parents and grandparents, and they’re letting everyone know about it. Of course, I’m simply adding to the travel blog noise, but today I wanted to take it back to the basics. Why is traveling important? Because it is important. But not always for the reasons advertised. Here are five (there are plenty more) of my favorite reasons for traveling.

1) Cultural awareness/sensitivity

Thinking of engaging other cultures can sound so exotic and international. But different cultures exist even within one’s own country. There’s an urban culture versus a rural culture. In the United States there’s a West Coast culture, an East Coast culture, a Southern culture, a Midwest culture, and I’m pretty sure Texas is its own country and culture.

Interacting with people of other cultures gives us the ability to empathize and understand and treat others as human beings (even when we don’t always agree on every ideology or cultural value). Plus, interacting with other cultures means trying new food! Yum!

2) Active living

This isn’t always a reality, but those who travel are often living more actively. They’re biking around new cities. They’re hiking in the outdoors or perhaps along the village-connecting trails of Cinque Terre. They’re taking tours of castles or museums or zoos. They’re swimming in the ocean. They’re white water rafting. I guess what I’m trying to say is TRAVELLING SAVES LIVES (that’s not a stretch, is it?).

3) Activism

This is a touchy issue, and I’m going to address the dangers of this in more detail next week. However, visiting war-torn or impoverished areas—seeing these places in person) is often the impetus to support important causes like clean water, curable diseases, malnutrition, etc. For those who have grown up in a comfort bubble, travel can be the remedy to live awake to the stark realities of the world.

4) Self-discovery

This is one of my favorite and an idea I’d like to develop further in the future. Though modern travel is a bit of a phenomena, journeying for self-discovery is quite ancient. Pilgrimages such as El Camino de Santiago in Spain or the Hajj pilgrimage to Mecca are ancient. Silence and solitude have been strong monastic disciplines for hundreds of years. Travel can help you know yourself.

5) Fun!

Lastly, travel is fun. Sometimes, we don’t need any better reason than to have fun. Seeing new places invokes a sense of wonder and imagination. When I first backpacked through Europe, the fairy tales that I adored were coming to life in their natural habitat. For me, that was so much fun!

 

I hope you’ve enjoyed some of this list. Can you think of any other important reasons for travel? I’d love to hear them in the comments below.

What to Read, Where to Go?

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Need ideas?

It’s the end of summer. Perhaps you’re back in the office daydreaming about next summer’s dream vacation rather than the work in front of you. You have Travelocity or Travelzoo bookmarked in your browser. You’re skimming travel photos, imagining the perfect adventure. You have the most epic travel playlist on Spotify. You’ve been watching The Secret Life of Walter Mitty for inspiration. Perhaps you’re uncertain about where you want to go. Perhaps you’re working up the courage to do something extra daring, something really outside your comfort zone. Of course Travelocity only goes so far. In fact, sometimes travel sites can be even more discouraging as they can cater to a clientele with substantially deeper pockets than your own. But the itch remains. Maybe you have a little bit of the what but you need more of the why or how.

Over the last year this blog has been primarily concerned with documenting some of my life as a teacher in El Salvador as well as providing resources for students. As I transition back into the States—I accepted a language arts teaching position just outside Kansas City—I want to stay active on this blog, but I want to expand the purpose and vision. I’m not entirely sure what that means yet, but I want to connect readers with relevant information especially related to the world of travel, books, and even a little bit of teaching and faith. I want to answer more of the whats for travel—what’s out there? But I also want to engage with the whys and hows. Why is travel important? How do I travel in a meaningful (re: non-superficial, non-dehumanizing) way? How do I travel on a budget?

I also want to highlight the literary world more, connecting readers to great books, relevant literary news, and potentially some great literary causes.

Will you join me?

What would you like to see here?

Guatemala and Big (Personal) News

Last spring, during Semana Santa, I had the wonderful opportunity to travel to Antigua, Guatemala…

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…with my fiancee, Elena!

Yes, it has been difficult for me to post as frequently as I’d like because of some crazy (awesome) life events including proposing to my amazing fiancee and transitioning back to the United States to continue teaching (I’ll post more on that later), but I hope to resume somewhat frequent blog posts about life, literature, and travel.

So…back to Guatemala. Semana Santa literally translates as Holy Week, and it is an important Catholic holiday in Latin America (and important on the Christian calendar all over the world): the week before Easter. Many people are on holiday that week, if not for the whole week then usually Thursday and Friday at least. Trying to avoid the overwhelming crowds the weekend of Easter, Elena, her sister and parents, and I visited Antigua Sunday through Tuesday.

Sometimes, when traveling, one of the difficulties is that certain cities/countries/areas might be rather unsafe. Thus, one of the great treasures of Latin America is Antigua, Guatemala. The government has maintained stricter security there, it is very safe, and it allows one to experience the incredibly rich Latin American culture without some of the security issues in other places.

So imagine walking down rustic, stone streets, meandering through various side streets, surrounded by antiquarian, colonial architecture, breathing in the sights and sounds of artisan peddlers, food vendors, musicians, and various languages from diverse travelers all over the world. Old churches and cathedrals, literally hundreds of years old, look down on the people, inviting them to share in their history of piety and religion (and, unfortunately at times historically, exploitation). The plaza is a focal point which provides beautiful greenery nestled within the small city as well as plenty of park benches to sit and soak up the atmosphere. There are cafes with incredible coffee, restaurants, and bookstores. The air there is fresh and cool, the advantage of its somewhat higher altitudes. And though there really isn’t any one specific tourist attraction (e.g. the Eiffel Tower), it’s almost nicer because there’s no pressure to rush around to anything in particular. Instead, one simply walks the streets in good company and breathes the deep, satisfied breath of another cultural gem.

Enjoy some of the pictures.

 

Transcendentalism, Nature, and Concord

About a year and a half ago I remember having what can only be described as a really good day. Now, if those superlatives don’t exactly bowl you over, it’s simply because nothing truly spectacular happened; I was just able to look back at the end of the day and realize how incredibly refreshing it was.

I had a day off from work (this was when I was managing a cafe in Harvard Square) and decided to spend it by myself exploring Concord. So I walked from my house-converted-into-an-overpriced-apartment to Davis Square, took the red line one stop to Porter and changed to the Fitchburg commuter rail line out to Concord. I then visited various locales including Thoreau’s replica cottage, Walden Pond, Louisa May Alcott’s home, the Old North Bridge, and Sleepy Hollow Cemetery. I felt rather transcendent myself as I ate my lunch by the water’s edge of Walden Pond. It was a clear, mild (low 70s probably) October day. The leaves were just beginning to change. As I sat in that place near Thoreau’s little Walden experiment, and as I later visited the graves of several famous writers, I somehow felt connected to that legacy, that heritage of literature. I don’t necessarily agree with all their worldviews, but I still felt as if I was breathing in the fresh air of greatness. Call their ghosts muses or whatever, I also spent time writing; one poem in particular I am still eager to publish eventually. Thus, it was…a really good day.

In my American Literature class we will be taking a look at Transcendentalism over the next couple of weeks. Here is a small excerpt from M.H. Abrams’ immensely useful A Glossary of Literary Terms (7th edition) under the entry “Transcendentalism in America”:

What the various Transcendentalists had in common was less what they proposed than what they were reacting against. By and large, they were opposed to rigid rationalism; to eighteenth-century empirical philosophy of the school of John Locke, which derived all knowledge from sense impressions; to highly formalized religion, especially the Calvinist orthodoxy of New England; and to the social conformity, materialism, and commercialism that they found increasingly dominant in American life. Among the counter-views that were affirmed by Transcendentalists, especially Emerson, were confidence in the validity of a mode of knowledge that is grounded in feeling in intuition, and a consequent tendency to accept what, to logical reasoning, might seem contradictions; an ethics of individualism that stressed self-trust, self-reliance, and self-sufficiency; a turn away from modern society, with its getting and spending, to the scenes and objects of the natural world, which were regarded both as physical facts and as correspondences to aspects of the human spirit; and, in place of a formal or doctrinal religion, a faith in a divine “Principle,” or “Spirit,” or “Soul” (Emerson’s “Over-Soul”) in which both humanity and the cosmos participate.

It’s amazing how relevant some of these tenets are still today. In an over-commercialized, super-technological, empiricism-is-our-only-truth type of world, we need a return to nature, to unplugging, to spirituality.

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“I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life. And see if I could not learn what it had to teach and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived.” -Thoreau

I am most refreshed in nature. I have been blessed to get out into the wild in my life: the Kalalau Trail along the Na Pali coastline in Hawaii, the West Highland Way in Scotland, Acadia National Park, Rocky Mountain National Park, and more. I live in El Salvador right now. And while it’s difficult to be isolated in nature (security reasons), there are some spectacular views, spectacular opportunities to witness another marvelous part of the world.

So here’s my advice. If you’re feeling the grind of the machine (corporate culture, for example, or whatever system is stymieing your life), break free. For a moment at least. Where is it you can go to transcend, to commune in nature? To know that you’re not just useless mass of atoms? You’re made of special stuff.

Deep breaths…

It’s a simple playlist, only sixteen songs right now. My thinking music. My deep breathing, deep contemplating music. My centering music. It’s playing in the background right now. I invite you to join in my thoughtful reveries:

a pipe and thoughts

 

Every life is a universe. Every step opens new worlds, new realities and spheres of possibility and influence. Some days I feel off center but find that my life is merely finding a new center; it’s the way of things on the outside of normal.

  All the past we leave behind;
We debouch upon a newer, mightier world, varied world,
Fresh and strong the world we seize, world of labor and the march, Pioneers! O pioneers!

-Walt Whitman, “Pioneers! O Pioneers!”

I cannot always believe the life I live. At times it is painfully ordinary; life must be that way to be effective. But when I float up and out, when I peer down upon my life like the watchful moon, there’s something unsettlingly magical.

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Saying Goodbye (and Understanding Home)

Home is one of the most powerful motifs I’ve ever found in literature or theology. 

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My dad, my mom, my girlfriend Elena, and I at San Martin, basically El Salvador’s version of Panera Bread Co.

In my senior’s English Literature class we’re reading Robinson Crusoe (I needed something in our textbook that would hold their attention amidst senioritis better than old poetry they couldn’t understand–remember, English isn’t their first language). At the beginning of the story the main character is being persuaded by his father not to set out on his adventure. Let your imagination wander a little bit, and it’s a rather tearful, dramatic account. Robinson Crusoe’s brother has already died on his own adventure, and his father withholds his blessing (and God’s) if his son insists stubbornly on his journey to the sea.

Now, my experience with my parents has never been like that. They’ve always been supportive of my adventures, the path of my life (and it’s taken quite a winding way). But it’s always so difficult to say goodbye. I said goodbye last July when I moved to El Salvador. I said goodbye after visiting them at Christmas. And I just said goodbye to them last Tuesday after they were in the country for a week. My parents are beautiful people, and we are very close. It was difficult to say goodbye. I love them dearly. So this is an important lesson to adventuring.

Always remember where you came from. There’s a worn-out statement packed with meaning. Nobody is so alone in life that they would not be missed if they left. Stay in touch. Send a postcard. Love the ones you leave behind. Visit. And when your journey’s over, it’s okay for your tired feet to find their way back home. Home is one of the most powerful motifs I’ve ever found in literature or theology.

A little bit out of context, but I’ve always loved the sense of this statement from G.K. Chesterton’s Orthodoxy:

“What could be more delightful than to have in the same few minutes all the fascinating terrors of going abroad combined with all the humane security of coming home again?”

Poetry: Walt Whitman’s “Song of the Open Road”

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First of all, can we just acknowledge how cool Walt Whitman looks? I mean, like the original mountaineer hipster guy. Okay good, glad you agree.

I first came across Whitman in college quite by accident. I honestly can’t remember how I found his poem “Song of the Open Road,” but it was while compiling a POI (program of oral interpretation) for my forensics team in college (think debate/speech, not CSI). It’s sad, really, that I “accidentally” stumbled upon one of America’s most famous poets. But this truth perhaps highlights how far I’ve come literarily-speaking since that time.

Whitman (1819-1892), a humanist journalist, essayist, and poet, was not always loved for his poetry. His free verse was very unconventional, and his overt liberality of human sexuality was ill-approved. Nevertheless, his legacy is one of the trademarks of American literature. His works praise humanity (i.e. “Song of Myself”) and are quintessentially American in their wild, rugged freedom. And if you aren’t very familiar with Whitman’s poetry, you may have at least come across his famous “O Captain! My Captain!” which was written about the death of Abraham Lincoln and more recently immortalized in Dead Poets Society (starring Robin Williams).

So, without further ado for all my freedom-loving, adventure-seeking, open-roadies (yes, I subtly wanted to pretend I have “roadies”), literature is something that should become a friend on your journeys if it is not already. Nothing goes better with travel than deep thoughts (think Chris McCandless in Jon Krakauer’s “Into the Wild”). Thus, Whitman’s “Open Road” is almost like a companion guide to the adventurer. I’ll share a few lines from the rather long poem, but you should read it all for yourself. Happy adventuring!

[a few pictures from my trip to Scotland a couple years ago]

 

Afoot and light-hearted I take to the open road,
Healthy, free, the world before me,
The earth expanding right hand and left hand,
The picture alive, every part in its best light,
The music falling in where it is wanted, and stopping where it is not wanted,
The cheerful voice of the public road, the gay fresh sentiment of the road.
O highway I travel, do you say to me Do not leave me?
Do you say Venture not—if you leave me you are lost?
Do you say I am already prepared, I am well-beaten and undenied, adhere to me?
O public road, I say back I am not afraid to leave you, yet I love you,
You express me better than I can express myself,
You shall be more to me than my poem.
I think heroic deeds were all conceiv’d in the open air, and all free poems also,
I think I could stop here myself and do miracles,
I think whatever I shall meet on the road I shall like, and whoever beholds me shall like me,
I think whoever I see must be happy.
Forever alive, forever forward,
Stately, solemn, sad, withdrawn, baffled, mad, turbulent, feeble, dissatisfied,
Desperate, proud, fond, sick, accepted by men, rejected by men,
They go! they go! I know that they go, but I know not where they go,
But I know that they go toward the best—toward something great.
Allons! the road is before us!
It is safe—I have tried it—my own feet have tried it well—be not detain’d!
Let the paper remain on the desk unwritten, and the book on the shelf unopen’d!
Let the tools remain in the workshop! let the money remain unearn’d!
Let the school stand! mind not the cry of the teacher!
Let the preacher preach in his pulpit! let the lawyer plead in the court, and the judge expound the law.
Camerado, I give you my hand!
I give you my love more precious than money,
I give you myself before preaching or law;
Will you give me yourself? will you come travel with me?
Shall we stick by each other as long as we live?

 

Adventure: Reflection and Looking Ahead

 

Seven years ago today I embarked on an incredibly transformative life-adventure: backpacking through Europe by myself for 3.5 months as a freshly graduated 22 year old.

I spent time journaling and reflecting this morning. Here’s today’s entry:

January 14 [2017]:

On this day seven years ago I flew from St. Louis to Dublin. That experience ended up being one of the most transformative of my life. In some ways I can directly link to that experience as a point in which everything changed. I learned to see life differently. I grew independent. I grew quieter and more reflective. I became imaginative and wanted to see the world through experience rather than didactic moralism. I fell deeper in love with books and writing and creativity and art. I have wanted to explore the depths of knowledge and adventure. Suddenly I was dissatisfied with a normal (9-5) life. Some might say I’ve become “unhinged” ever since; I’d just say “unsettled.”

When we have experiences such as these there’s a temptation to try and re-create them. But we can’t; it does disservice to the memory and the experience. In a sense, we can’t look back in life. We can look in the mirror (self-reflection and growth), but we can’t turn around. Re-creating sublime moments is a sort of prostitution [soiling what is supposed to be pure]: we’re plucking at the divine fruit we were meant to taste once. We forget we’re in the garden of mystery where every tree bears a different fruit. Savor that which you’ve already enjoyed, remember it, cherish it, but search for new fruit.

I’m thankful for the adventure that started my adventures. Let’s keep moving forward.

Since that trip in 2010 I’ve had the incredible privilege of backpacking around Scotland (and the West Highland Way), hiking the Na Pali coastline, traveling and getting my CELTA in S. America (Ecuador and Peru), Scotland again to hike with a friend, and Italy with my family. I now live in El Salvador. I’m not rich monetarily; but I’m rich in experience. Travel itself will not fill emptiness in your life–it will not “fix” you. You can be filled in so many ways. Nevertheless, don’t settle for mundane. Keep pushing at the seams of life.

Here’s a link to my inactive blog that recounts my Europe trip in full: Go.

Finally, read it or don’t, but below is a final piece of warning/advice. Happy Saturday!

 

[Note: As I scan webpages here and there, I want to leave this warning/advice to any readers. Don’t commercialize travel. I hope that’s not what I’m doing by blogging about this. There are a zillion travel tips and organizations and resources (many of them helpful, many of them that I have used from time to time), but don’t lose the spirit of travel. It’s not an industry for some Fat Cat to get rich off of…feeding into the Western world’s dissatisfaction with life. Travel, done correctly, is painfully intimate–no one can understand your experience like you can. It is sublime. It is mysterious and soul-seeking. Stepping out, I mean really stepping out, was never meant to be a two-second affair, snapping off a bunch of photos and scampering back to safe and normal. Now, it’s okay to return to what the world might call “normal” because YOU know that you’re no longer normal, and you adjust your life accordingly. You bring that spirit of change and  new eyes back with you. I feel that I’m rambling a bit here; I don’t know how to put this into words. But I see some people’s travel posts and sites, etc. from time to time, and it seems that they are more interested in how their experiences are perceived by others rather than letting those moments be their own. Remember when Sean O’Connell in Walter Mitty explains that “If I like a moment, for me, personally, I don’t like to have the distraction of the camera…”? Leaving aside the irony of using a major Hollywood quote to make my point, let’s take a page out of O’Connell’s book and not feel the need to prostitute our moments, OUR OWN. Let’s pursue truth and beauty and self-discovery, not gimmicky tourism-industry shenanigans. I hope this makes sense. Thanks guys!]

Everyday Adventure

{I feel like every post lately starts with an apology. Here’s my last apology but hopefully not my last post for awhile. The reality is that I was a little over-ambitious when I began my blog, not factoring in my schedule (besides being a first-year teacher I’m finishing another degree online). Once my schedule clears up a bit, my posts will become more regular again. Thanks all!}

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…the girl 😉
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Chicago with my brother and my Salvadorian brother over Christmas break.
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sunset at Costa del Sol…it’s good to be back in El Salvador

 

 

La vida es bella.

Every day we wake up to a new sunrise and a new wind, a wind gathered among the airs and the comings and goings of an entire globe, accumulating and retracting and gathering and forming and transforming–touching our small little environments along its journey. And we are invited into the tears and smiles and burdens and triumphs and tragedies of that traveling breath–the wind is a speechless whisper, ever observant, ever moving–that passes over this beautiful, ugly little planet, a mere pinprick in the sea of stars and galaxies and universes.

Estoy feliz.

I am learning about contentment. For years I have been learning this lesson, and I will be its student until I die. St. Paul wrote to the Philippians that he had learned the secret of being content. That is a great, slippery secret. I have bounced around a lot. The temptation for adventurers and wanderers and travelers is to brag of their experiences… I know that temptation. The truth is, every new opportunity comes with tears. Every new opportunity brings with it the chance to be selfish and to make it all about ME. And every new opportunity punches me in the face, reminding me just how fragile I am and what the priorities of life are. Love God and love people–Jesus summarized in a few words what takes a lifetime to learn and fail and learn some more. I am learning to adapt. I am learning about contentment.

La vida es bella.

 

 

 

El Salvador: Birthdays

This past weekend was my birthday. I’m really close with my family, so it’s not always easy to be away from them during celebrations. However, living abroad has the unique advantage of celebrating in new ways.

First, my school department took me to El Zócalo, one of my favorite Mexican restaurants in El Salvador. I was donned with a sweet sombrero and cape as the waiters sang and brought me flan.

Second, three of my classes on Friday threw me a little party: cake, ice cream, soda, balloons, silly string, even a picture of me on the dry-erase board.

And I got a cake from my school department!

Also, I learned about a fun little tradition: “Mordida! Mordida! Mordida!” How it works is… well, if you don’t know, I’ll just let you experience that one for yourself.

Lastly, my other family came to my house Friday night, and we enjoyed homemade tacos, fun, and games.

All in all it was a wonderful birthday. So many people sang for me, brought me food, cooked me food, gave me gifts, and warmly wished me a “Feliz Cumpleaños.” Gracias a todos! Wonderful country. Wonderful people.