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“If you set off on down the road with specific agendas and goals, you will at best discover the pleasure of actualizing them. But if you wander with open eyes and simple curiosity, you’ll discover a much richer pleasure — the simple feeling of possibility that hums from every direction as you move from place to place.”
–Rolf Potts, Vagabonding (2003)
“The furious and malignant anti-Westernism of the Islamic fundamentalists is in part an expression of the Arab world’s rage at itself. It is in certain respects an outpouring of Arab agony over what is regarded as cultural surrender to the West. From this standpoint, Islamic fundamentalism is a weapon with which people who feel they have been overpowered by the West for almost three centuries try to strike back. In defense of their greatly damaged sense of self-esteem, the Arabs are attempting to prove that their institutions, their way of life, and in essence their whole culture is not inferior to that of the West.
“While Islamic fundamentalism flails at the West, it also assaults contemporary Arab life, striking at the divisions of Arab society. The Arab world as much as any other major geographic and cultural region in the world has been bombarded by the swiftly changing twentieth century. Population has relentlessly increased, causing cities to explode, which in turn has upset the comfortable networks of families that traditionally ran them. Concurrently, the availability of education released many of the middle and lower middle classes from the curse of political impotence, giving them a voice with which to express new convictions, grievances, and hopes. They became the Gamal Abdul Nassers and the Hafiz Assads of the modernizing Arab world. As a result, an enormous gap has developed between the traditional leaders and this new elite on the one hand and between the new elite and the masses on the other. Their conflict is one of identity more than politics. It is identity expressed in terms of the proper relationship between the heritage of the past and the needs of the present. In the tension that surrounds them, all the tormenting questions explored by earlier generations as to whether Islam should define Arab politics or whether the future lies in secularism have once more surfaced. And once more, Arab society seems unable to find an answer.
I have a column about travel writing in the current issue of Transitions Abroad. Entitled Advice to Travel Writers: Make Travel Itself Your First Priority, it’s an updated version of the travel writing advice I posted on the RolfPotts.com Writers page some years ago. The ten basic points of advice are the same as before:
Elsewhere in the July/August issue of Transitions Abroad, RolfPotts.com is listed along with Bootsnall, World Hum, Planeta, and LonelyPlanet.com as one of the magazine’s “Web Picks for 2004″.
As usual, Transitions Abroad is packed with practical advice for the long-term independent traveler (as well as students and overseas job-seekers). An article from the June issue I found particularly interesting (given my forthcoming foray into the Spanish language) was Curtis West’s Learning Language Faster.
The following appeared in the “Readings” section of Harper’s in June of 2004. I find it interesting (and encouraging, actually) that the Marine Corps is offering cultural sensitivity tips not unlike one might find in the front of a Lonely Planet guide to the Middle East.
From a handout that accompanies a weeklong course on Iraq’s customs and history given to U.S. Marines as part of their training. The course, de
“Now I see the secret of the making of the best persons,
It is to grow in the open air and to eat and sleep with the earth.”
–Walt Whitman, “Song of the Open Road” (1856)
One of the most perplexing trends in magazine journalism in recent years is the tendency to categorize service articles into definitive lists — the “25 Best Rivers For Kayaking”, for example, or “America’s 10 Most Liveable Cities”. The conceit of such “list journalism”, of course, is that these lists are largely arbitrary — thrown together to appeal to one’s sense that the world is some kind of contest that can be won. As a writer this can be frustrating, as one’s nuanced observations about a complicated world wind up being boiled down to “50 Hot Summer Getaways”.
From a reading standpoint, however, these lists can be exciting, as I discovered when Men’s Journal recently named La Jolla’s Windansea Beach one of the “25 Hottest Beaches in the World”. Since I just spent the month of June living on the shores of Windansea, I felt privileged to read that the “the cradle of San Diego’s storied surf culture — and the setting of Tom Wolfe’s 1968 essay, “The Pump House Gang”, whose fervent watermen tenaciously protect their reef breaks from outsiders — has remained surprisingly under radar.” Somehow, by dumb luck, I appear to have stumbled into beach-scene hipsterdom.
Ironically, I spent one of my afternoons at Windansea last month complaining about this very magazine trend while sea-kayaking with Jim Benning of World Hum. As writers, both of us expressed disdain at “list” articles, which turned ironic when World Hum later made Men’s Journal‘s list of “100 Best Websites For Guys“. As a World Hum contributor, I was happy with this accolade, though the supporting text (a “great place to find out about the newest hot spots before everyone else does” — hardly WH‘s mission statement) made me wonder if the MJ people even read the website that closely. And of course that made me wonder if any of these breathless “list” pieces are all that authoritative.
Whatever case, I will probably continue to hold the tenuous (yet somehow satisfying) position of despising “list” articles on principle, yet approving of them whenever they make my life sound cool. So it goes.
In other magazine-related news, I have created a new blog category — “Catching up with my magazine reading“. This category will include snippets and thoughts from the magazine world — or, at least, the magazine world that I stumble into whenever I return to Kansas to find an enormous stack of New Yorkers and Economists and Harperses and whatnot waiting for me. This huge, backdated stack of magazines is what I get for not keeping a permanent address, but — as I went to the trouble of subscribing to these fine magazines — I always feel like I need to read through them all. I’m hoping that blogging magazine-outtakes will make my periodic periodical bingeing feel more worthwhile. So stay tuned for more.
“The last time infidels conquered Baghdad was in 1258, when the Mongol horde, led by Genghis Khan
[Flashback to ten years ago: Based out of a Volkswagen Vanagon, Rolf takes some journal notes during his first vagabonding journey -- eight months around North America -- in 1994.]
After a couple months of living and writing on the American West Coast, I took to the road again last week to visit my family in Kansas (and deliver a 1984 Chevy Celebrity — my ride for the last couple months — to my sister). Starting in San Diego, I took I-8, I-40 (which covers the route of the famous and defunct US 66), and US 54 to Wichita. It was great to drive across the American West — a journey I always enjoy. In fact, the drive brought back a lot of memories, most notably of my original vagabonding journey — eight months around the USA and Canada — exactly ten years ago (see photo above — that’s a 1985 Volkswagen Vanagon, lovingly dubbed Taco Grande Con Queso, that a friend and I modified for the journey). I’ve covered a lot of ground since then, but I never tire of the open spaces of the United States.
I’ve enjoyed my time in Kansas, though the sweltering humidity here reminds me why I enjoyed San Diego so much. I’ve been staying in the same neighborhood where I grew up, and I’m surprised by how little it’s changed. It’s still populated by older working-class families and young middle-class families. Neighbors bring by vegetables from their gardens, the kids are polite, and lots of people fly American flags. Not a very hip place, by coastal standards, but I enjoy visiting.
Later this week I plan on visiting my farm in northern Kansas, which I co-own with my sister and her family. As is always the case when I visit, I will be confronted with the question: Should I build a house there? And, if so, when? I’m still addicted to my peripatetic life, of course, but I’ve always enjoyed the idea of having a home-base — at least for seasonal stays. Of course, building a house might require more time and money than I’m willing to spare right now, but I enjoy the fact that the option is there.
Though I’m only in Kansas till the end of the month, I have no solid plans for what comes next. In all likelihood I’ll return to San Diego and Baja for the rest of the summer and fall, with an eye to heading back to South America by winter. A lot of this decision hangs on what publishers think of my latest book (it’s vacation time in publishing-land, so I might not have a definite game-plan for a couple more months). I’ll make an announcement here when I know what’s up with that. In the meantime, give me a holler if you find yourself in Kansas!
“Strolling through the Karen village [in Thailand], feeling voyeuristic as I glimpsed scenes of family intimacy, part of me hoped to experience something I didn’t possess. My mobility was a form of decadence, and in traveling the world, something in me was seeking its antithesis. I’d come halfway around the globe to sit in a bamboo hut, searching for groundedness, tradition and community — all the things I’d abandoned for the endless novelty of travel. And by fooling myself into thinking I’d bought something real, I’d become a chump, a despoiler. In a word, a tourist: somebody who travels abroad to purchase a simulated antidote to an existential lack and then tries to deny the transaction has taken place.”
–Taras Grescoe, End of Elsewhere: Travels Among the Tourists (2003)
It is commonly known that travelers, when thrown together overseas for extended periods of time, will eventually start to obsess on the idiosyncrasies of their bowels (Tim Cahill has commented on this at length). And, in places where toilet paper seldom exists (such as Asia), there is much debate about just how sanitary it is to “wipe” (so to speak) with water.
Water-wiping enthusiasts (and many die-hard vagabonders are) insist that their method is superior, arguing that if you had shit on your face, you would use water to wash it off instead of paper. Thus, they reason, water-wiping makes for a cleaner bum. Whenever I speak to high school audiences, I enjoy the reaction when I make this very logical point.
Until recently, however, I thought that the varying mechanics of ass-wiping was only a consideration among hard-core world travelers. I was proved wrong this week when I read the June issue of Esquire, and found the following article by Men in Black director Barry Sonnenfeld, which I think speaks for itself:
“Five years ago, Sweetie (the wife) introduced me to Tucks hemorrhoid pads. She changed my life. Growing up, I watched the unfortunate commercial: a close-up of a flaming match being put out by a Tucks medicated pad, whatever that was. It made me sad. It made me feel unclean. And you know what? I was.
“You know how when you’re done with a plate of ribs or a fine three-pound lobster, you’re desperately looking forward to wiping your hands with a moist towelette? Well, Tucks are moist towelettes for your ass. Take an entire roll of toilet paper. Keep wiping until the paper is as clean as when it came off the roll. Not a speck of fecal matter? Okay. Now take a single Tucks, place it across your three middle fingers, and wipe. The amount of sadness on the pad will make you faint.
“The marketing problem for Tucks all these years is that they’re sold as a hemorrhoidal aid instead of a profound mood enhancer. Tucks are like a romp through a field of daisies for your butt. Every year, I give Will Smith a case of Tucks for his birthday, since he’s uncomfortable going down to his local Costco and picking up a pallet of them. Tucks changed Will Smith’s life.
“Tucks not only come in containers of 100 pads, which I keep in every bathroom in my house, they also come individually wrapped as “Tucks Take Alongs,” which I carry in my wallet. They are like an instant portable bidet.
“And they can be used as a bribe. Although I was originally invited to the annual Vanity Fair Oscar party because of my fine work as a director, what gets me invited back is that I never fail to find editor Graydon Carter and discreetly place a Tucks in his hand. Tucks changed my life. Maybe they changed his life. They can change your life, too.”
@Backpack Foodie & Kim:...
