Wednesday, January 23, 2013
Tuesday, January 15, 2013
My First Post on this Blog
Bolivia, Spain, and China. These are the countries that I have visited in the past 13 months. Cuba will soon follow, followed (hopefully) by Nicaragua. Before that there was Mexico, Honduras, Costa Rica, and Guatemala. Before that arctic Canada and its maritime provinces up to Labrador. Before that Alaska. Before that England and Scotland, Ecuador, Colombia, France, and Italy.
I love to travel. Travel is a big part of who and what I am. I have visited about 19 countries and about 45 of the 50 states so far. Others have visited more countries and offer a more impressive travel resume. I don't care. This is my story. I am a different person today from what I would be now had I not traveled. My two years in in Sierra Leone as a Peace Corps volunteer left a tattoo on my psyche that I will wear as long as I live.
Travel isn't always fun, and this is especially true if you like traveling in developing countries, a.k.a. Third World countries, which tends to be my preference. I lost 35 lbs. in Sierra Leone from dysentery. While there I helped bury a village child and witnessed an old man's slow, grinding, death from tuberculosis. At age 22 I had my first close encounter with the Grim Reaper when intense winds nearly sent our aged passenger plane into a mountainside near the Colombia/Ecuador border.
Most of the unpleasant encounters weren't life threatening, of course, though a few of them were most unpleasant. Human feces was thrown on me in Barcelona. The police searched our luggage, and several of us were nearly strip searched, in Cali, Colombia. (The Colombian police at that time were known to plant evidence -- drugs -- on hapless Gringos.) I came within a hair of being pick-pocketed in Bogota. Harassment was a given if you were a Porto (white person) traveling in West Africa. The list goes on.
But there is another list. There is no laugh like an African's. The cordiality and kindness of the Chinese brought mist to my eyes. Barcelona is still the world's hippest city. The Scotts in my experience are among the kindest people in Europe. The endearing liveliness of the Italians. The French, as a group among the world's most cultured people, who have made food an art form. The multi-racial society of Honduras, where I have been made to feel like family. The Mayans, whose culture is perhaps the most fascinating among First Nations. The incredible underwater wall off the coast of Grand Cayman Island. That list too goes on....and on... and on.
Until now, I have not attempted to systematically record my travel experiences. Why now? Well, I believe that I may have practical, useful, advice to offer. But, in addition, in recent years I have a come to grasp how much travel has shaped me, how much it has taught me. It has been, despite some emphatic bumps in the road, an endeavor that has brought me much happiness and left me wiser, more compassionate, and more understanding of the human condition. I want a record of this aspect of my life. Though my life has known its share of unhappiness, this will not be a maudlin narrative. My life of travel -- that path at least -- has been joyful.
I am a quintessential "meaning junkie." I want the universe, and our lives, to have a purpose; I want there to be "some broader design, some higher purpose sublime." (That is a line straight from a song I wrote. Go to kevinmmurphy.homestead.com to listen.) Therefore, you will detect in this blog both rational and heartfelt efforts to connect dots, to find meaning. If you continue to follow this blog.
What does all this have to do with traveling? Are you ready to find out? Am I?
I love to travel. Travel is a big part of who and what I am. I have visited about 19 countries and about 45 of the 50 states so far. Others have visited more countries and offer a more impressive travel resume. I don't care. This is my story. I am a different person today from what I would be now had I not traveled. My two years in in Sierra Leone as a Peace Corps volunteer left a tattoo on my psyche that I will wear as long as I live.
Travel isn't always fun, and this is especially true if you like traveling in developing countries, a.k.a. Third World countries, which tends to be my preference. I lost 35 lbs. in Sierra Leone from dysentery. While there I helped bury a village child and witnessed an old man's slow, grinding, death from tuberculosis. At age 22 I had my first close encounter with the Grim Reaper when intense winds nearly sent our aged passenger plane into a mountainside near the Colombia/Ecuador border.
Most of the unpleasant encounters weren't life threatening, of course, though a few of them were most unpleasant. Human feces was thrown on me in Barcelona. The police searched our luggage, and several of us were nearly strip searched, in Cali, Colombia. (The Colombian police at that time were known to plant evidence -- drugs -- on hapless Gringos.) I came within a hair of being pick-pocketed in Bogota. Harassment was a given if you were a Porto (white person) traveling in West Africa. The list goes on.
But there is another list. There is no laugh like an African's. The cordiality and kindness of the Chinese brought mist to my eyes. Barcelona is still the world's hippest city. The Scotts in my experience are among the kindest people in Europe. The endearing liveliness of the Italians. The French, as a group among the world's most cultured people, who have made food an art form. The multi-racial society of Honduras, where I have been made to feel like family. The Mayans, whose culture is perhaps the most fascinating among First Nations. The incredible underwater wall off the coast of Grand Cayman Island. That list too goes on....and on... and on.
Until now, I have not attempted to systematically record my travel experiences. Why now? Well, I believe that I may have practical, useful, advice to offer. But, in addition, in recent years I have a come to grasp how much travel has shaped me, how much it has taught me. It has been, despite some emphatic bumps in the road, an endeavor that has brought me much happiness and left me wiser, more compassionate, and more understanding of the human condition. I want a record of this aspect of my life. Though my life has known its share of unhappiness, this will not be a maudlin narrative. My life of travel -- that path at least -- has been joyful.
I am a quintessential "meaning junkie." I want the universe, and our lives, to have a purpose; I want there to be "some broader design, some higher purpose sublime." (That is a line straight from a song I wrote. Go to kevinmmurphy.homestead.com to listen.) Therefore, you will detect in this blog both rational and heartfelt efforts to connect dots, to find meaning. If you continue to follow this blog.
What does all this have to do with traveling? Are you ready to find out? Am I?
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