Visting and staying present

Simon Goland describes an experience of travel that seems very common these days:

When my parents were finally able to travel and start seeing the world, their travel looked like checking off boxes of countries, places, cities, and museums. Arrive somewhere. Walk through a place without stopping much. Take some photos. Check off a mental box. On to the next place. And when I traveled with them, I too embraced that way of seeing the world.

I got good at it, actually. I could “do” a European capital in two and a half days and tell you, with some confidence, that I had been there. I had the photos to prove it. What I didn’t have – though it took me years to notice the absence – was any memory of my own body while I was standing in front of the thing I had traveled so far to see. I was present for the checklist. I was not present for the cathedral, the museum, or the funky little cafe nearby.

This speaks to something I have learned over my life, as I have been able to travel to all kinds of places for work and curiosity.  Nowadays when Caitlin and I visit a place on holiday we go to walk: multi-day walks, day trips, walks to places where we sit for a while and listen to the sounds.  Most of this travel happens in rural and wild places, and so even when we are in popular areas like Tuscany or Provence, we find ourselves alone in the quiet of the woods, the shoreline, or the fields that fewer people travel to.  We tend to avoid the cities. 

When I am in a city, instead of going to the tourist spots I like to try to find a football match to attend. Especially if I am in a place where the football is not one of the top leagues. Going along to a football match gives me the experience of what a community is like.  The travel from wherever I am staying to the stadium, the culture of the place, the food, the walk, the chants, the style of play. All are much more interesting indicators of where I am than the curated experience of a place through its formal cultural institutions.  It induces and requires the presence that Simon is talking about. 

As a result my language of travel has become very explicit. I don't "explore" a place or "discover" something, unless what I am exploring and discovering is something about myself.  Instead I am very clear that when I am away from home I am "visiting" a place, which places upon me a burden of respect for what is there. I try to learn enough of the language to be understood. I try to familiarize myself with places that visitors are not welcome, because many communities have fragile refuges from the influx of visitors and, living on an island that is a busy summer tourist destination, I know there are some places that the community needs to have for itself, for sanctuary and calm.