I've been to 46 of the 50 states. This privilege was thanks to the many road trips we took as a family for my dad's annual denominational meeting. Since they were held in all corners of the U.S., I've seen much of the country. I can describe to you the grandeur of Hoover's Dam and how damn hot it was. I could tell you about the little differences between Disneyland and Disney World's Magic Kingdom. I've seen so many sights in the U.S. that it would be quite boring to see them again. I saw these sights because of the way my dad likes to travel. Maybe he wanted to show his kids the features of our country and share some of his childhood travel memories. But I think the more likely explanation is that my dad is more oriented towards being a checklist traveler.
The road trips were timed quite well so that we would reach one site, spend an hour there, and leave in order to make it to the next destination. It's not like I don't appreciate the traveling we did. After all, I was just a kid, and what did I know about where we would be going. But I do feel like we missed out on some things during the blitz of national battlefields, museums, birthplaces, and parks.
One example that sticks out was the trip we made from San Francisco to Los Angeles. It started out very nicely. We stopped in Carmel, the small town on the Pacific where Clint Eastwood was mayor. My dad, my brother, and I got to go golfing in that area, which is not too far from Pebble Beach. But that was apparently enough northern California coast for my dad, because we were leaving for L.A. after a day and a half there. The drive to L.A. could have been leisurely except for the fact that Hearst Castle was on the way. So in order to carve out enough time for the voyage and the visit and still make it to L.A. before sundown, my dad raced down Highway 1. Big Sur was a Big Blur. My mom alerted me to look out the window to see some seals, but by the time it took me to turn my head 90 degrees, the seals had disappeared from view.
That's how my traveling self grew up, in bursts. Rich points of interests were interspersed with mad rushes. Even potty breaks were an inconvenience to the schedule. My family had a big red conversion van in which we sprinted across the country. When my brother or I had to pee, my dad would stop off the side of the highway, where we could stand in the door and let loose a stream that should have been relieved an hour before. After so many road trips like that, apparently we either got too big to do that or it was too much of an inconvenience. And embarrassing as it still might be, we got a little port-a-potty to shove between the rear bench and the second row driver's side seat. Potty breaks, as we knew them, no longer would interrupt our hyper space travel.
So these were some of the shaping events of my travel life. Next time, I am going to tell you how they have shaped my philosophy of traveling.
04 September 2007
20 August 2007
The introductory entry into the life of a flâneur
The word flâneur first appeared to me after my sophomore year in college. I knew that I was going to France for a semester the following year, so I decided I should get some reading material appropriate to the new adventure I was going to take.
Well, the first obvious choice is a travel guide book. They are a resource of information and clues that may put your trip into the easy lane. They were quite handy to me if not for the sole purpose of finding my way on the various maps. But, the travel guide book is not just a resource, it is a documentation of where someone else has been. This person writing for the book is doing so with no malicious intent whatsoever. However, this person by highlighting the places he or she has been is also confining the tourist to being just a checklist traveler, traveling using the travel guide book and making sure you've ticked off all the highlights of that city.
Almost ironically, in the travel section of Schuler's, I found my second choice of books titled Flâneur: A Stroll Through The Paradoxes of Paris by Edmund White. It stuck out for one because of the quaint and pretty picture of Paris on the cover, but also because of this strange new French word I had never seen. Hmm, a flâneur, qu'est-ce que c'est? In French, the -eur suffix is the same as a suffix of -or or -er, which nominalizes a verb. For example, the verb voir means to see. The gerund prefix form is voy-, add an -eur to the end of that, and you get voyeur, someone who sees or seer. Thus, flâneur means someone who "flâne"s.
Well, to satisfy my curiosity about this word, I started reading and conveniently on the first page the author describes the word in the context of his life in Paris. A flâneur is a stroller who aimlessly loses himself in a crowd, going wherever curiosity leads him and collecting impressions along the way.
Another description comes from the quick summary of the book on his homepage.
"A flâneur is a stroller, a loiterer, someone who ambles through a city without apparent purpose but is secretly attuned to the history of the place and in covert search of adventure, aesthetic or erotic. Edmund White, who lived in Paris for sixteen years, wanders through the streets and avenues and along the quays, into parts of Paris virtually unknown to visitors and indeed to many Parisians."
The French-English dictionary says wanderer, traveler, and stroller. The French dictionary, Le Petit Robert, makes it more of a point to emphasize that there is no special goal to be had in the wandering about. Personally, I have a lifelong voyaging goal of wandering about without goals, I am pretty sure that it will take me places. This derives from an innate ability to absorb and feel the energy of a place.
I think that perhaps I place very little value on corporeal experiences. Yeah, I ate that there. I saw that painting in that huge museum and have the post card to prove it. If I place little value on these experiences, why then did I get a post card.
Well, for me it, it is like a reminder of the energy and ethereal qualities of the place. I think one example that everyone can relate to is the reminder of smell. The fragrance that reminds you of someone special, or perhaps you enter a room that has the same smell as the 4th period English class whose teacher didn't teach you a thing. Smell is one thing, energy is another.
Every place has a mood to it, an energy, a distinct vibe that it emits. It isn't constant. It changes with the people, the weather, the sun, the moon, and I don't mean that in some sort of stupid cosmological/astrological kind of way. It means that the world is dynamic in sometimes very subtle ways. I love examples. I also love biking. I often bike to downtown from eastown. Despite the fact that I detest routine actions or maybe because I hate routine actions, I notice the subtle differences. Comparing two bike rides on the same route, I think I had to dodge a few more cars than last time, and I think my hair stayed in place better using the other product.
Is anyone else ever conscious of these things? Do you watch a lot of television? Hmm, interesting. That leads me to the point that in order to observe this energy and feel it into the depths of your being, it requires an effort. This effort sort of requires an emptying of the mind. Stop thinking about the latest gossip, the latest excitement, and the latest worries, they will be there when you come back. Specifically to those future flaneurs, stop thinking about where you are headed. Then, put yourself in perspective to your surroundings, then to where you came from. How is it different? Then, try to see yourself from above à la Google Earth, now, "zoom out". Do you feel how in this space and in this time, it is special? I mean come on, this is your life. You are living, well, I hope so, and that moment is one of the many that shape you and make you a person.
Right now, it is 2:33 a.m. on a Monday morning. I am sitting in the maintenance office, and I can't but feel a sense of contentment right now. How many more rounds am I going to have before I leave this job and this country? How many disgusting trash bags will I pick up with vile odors spilling out of them? As bad as these things may seem, they make me feel alive and somehow they add to the formation of my being.
Well, I think I will cut myself off right there for this entry. Next time, I will tackle more of this flâneur-ing business with regards to traveling.
Well, the first obvious choice is a travel guide book. They are a resource of information and clues that may put your trip into the easy lane. They were quite handy to me if not for the sole purpose of finding my way on the various maps. But, the travel guide book is not just a resource, it is a documentation of where someone else has been. This person writing for the book is doing so with no malicious intent whatsoever. However, this person by highlighting the places he or she has been is also confining the tourist to being just a checklist traveler, traveling using the travel guide book and making sure you've ticked off all the highlights of that city.
Almost ironically, in the travel section of Schuler's, I found my second choice of books titled Flâneur: A Stroll Through The Paradoxes of Paris by Edmund White. It stuck out for one because of the quaint and pretty picture of Paris on the cover, but also because of this strange new French word I had never seen. Hmm, a flâneur, qu'est-ce que c'est? In French, the -eur suffix is the same as a suffix of -or or -er, which nominalizes a verb. For example, the verb voir means to see. The gerund prefix form is voy-, add an -eur to the end of that, and you get voyeur, someone who sees or seer. Thus, flâneur means someone who "flâne"s.
Well, to satisfy my curiosity about this word, I started reading and conveniently on the first page the author describes the word in the context of his life in Paris. A flâneur is a stroller who aimlessly loses himself in a crowd, going wherever curiosity leads him and collecting impressions along the way.
Another description comes from the quick summary of the book on his homepage.
"A flâneur is a stroller, a loiterer, someone who ambles through a city without apparent purpose but is secretly attuned to the history of the place and in covert search of adventure, aesthetic or erotic. Edmund White, who lived in Paris for sixteen years, wanders through the streets and avenues and along the quays, into parts of Paris virtually unknown to visitors and indeed to many Parisians."
The French-English dictionary says wanderer, traveler, and stroller. The French dictionary, Le Petit Robert, makes it more of a point to emphasize that there is no special goal to be had in the wandering about. Personally, I have a lifelong voyaging goal of wandering about without goals, I am pretty sure that it will take me places. This derives from an innate ability to absorb and feel the energy of a place.
I think that perhaps I place very little value on corporeal experiences. Yeah, I ate that there. I saw that painting in that huge museum and have the post card to prove it. If I place little value on these experiences, why then did I get a post card.
Well, for me it, it is like a reminder of the energy and ethereal qualities of the place. I think one example that everyone can relate to is the reminder of smell. The fragrance that reminds you of someone special, or perhaps you enter a room that has the same smell as the 4th period English class whose teacher didn't teach you a thing. Smell is one thing, energy is another.
Every place has a mood to it, an energy, a distinct vibe that it emits. It isn't constant. It changes with the people, the weather, the sun, the moon, and I don't mean that in some sort of stupid cosmological/astrological kind of way. It means that the world is dynamic in sometimes very subtle ways. I love examples. I also love biking. I often bike to downtown from eastown. Despite the fact that I detest routine actions or maybe because I hate routine actions, I notice the subtle differences. Comparing two bike rides on the same route, I think I had to dodge a few more cars than last time, and I think my hair stayed in place better using the other product.
Is anyone else ever conscious of these things? Do you watch a lot of television? Hmm, interesting. That leads me to the point that in order to observe this energy and feel it into the depths of your being, it requires an effort. This effort sort of requires an emptying of the mind. Stop thinking about the latest gossip, the latest excitement, and the latest worries, they will be there when you come back. Specifically to those future flaneurs, stop thinking about where you are headed. Then, put yourself in perspective to your surroundings, then to where you came from. How is it different? Then, try to see yourself from above à la Google Earth, now, "zoom out". Do you feel how in this space and in this time, it is special? I mean come on, this is your life. You are living, well, I hope so, and that moment is one of the many that shape you and make you a person.
Right now, it is 2:33 a.m. on a Monday morning. I am sitting in the maintenance office, and I can't but feel a sense of contentment right now. How many more rounds am I going to have before I leave this job and this country? How many disgusting trash bags will I pick up with vile odors spilling out of them? As bad as these things may seem, they make me feel alive and somehow they add to the formation of my being.
Well, I think I will cut myself off right there for this entry. Next time, I will tackle more of this flâneur-ing business with regards to traveling.
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