March 2, 2008 To Hell with RW Emerson

In Paris---Some thoughts out of chronological order. I remember reading RWE and his saying that travel in most instances is over rated. And I have decided I hate that; I do go looking (which is mostly what he derides, saying most of what one will ever want is already close at hand) and I do go to look. I relish the journey itself and yes I am trying to find meaning both in that journey and also from the journey. If speaking a second language gives one a second soul (I give no credence to the first but I like the quote), then travel certainly gives a different perspective. One of the few ways I can imagine overcoming previously held beliefs and opinions is to walk in other lands and see how other people in other locales/countries/continents live. To refute Henry James, one can even do more than simply 'rearrange prejudices'.

Thoughts from Vidova Gora-looking west to Hvar and south into the haze. VG is not very high but it is the highest place on this island and in the vicinity. Regarding Hvar from on high with field burns visible around the island reminded me of scenes from the Lord of the Rings. The signal fires, for one. And with the multitude of islands surrounding us and undulating mistily in the distance I had thoughts of Cirdan the shipwright at the Grey Havens taking the elves, except Arwen, off to wherever they were planning to spend eternity. There is a comm station up here on the top of the mountain, and a little restaurant (closed, of course), and scrub brush and lots of rock and occasional birds soaring and whirling and crying out in their various voices, some shrill and warbling, others sounding like harsh harbingers of war, death and pestilence (the ravens of LOTR, perhaps).

I was reading three books to while away the long, painful nighs on Brac while I waited to see if the crackling noises all through the stygian darkness were just from the 19th century heater or from hands at the door. I wondered whether they city folk in Split could hear what sounded like chanting and if so what they told their kids, or whether they kept them indoors on 'island bbq night'. I wondered is that the surf of the Adriatic or the howls of the local Cthulhu Mythos as they decended on our largely undefended bungalow.

I was reading Alain Bottones book on travel and there are some very interesting anecdotes and some much deeper thoughts, some of which are evident to me on my little diatribe on RWE. Walking in nature is a step away from the daily rat race; it is going physically to the forest and getting out of the trees. It is taking time away from being in a reactive mode to a reflective one, and it is worth every moment if just to recharge my batteries. When I am depressed I walk; it is my best cathartic reaction. At the end of 2-3 hours of wandering, thinking and not thinking, on and off topics of concern, my problem is usually reduced to an action plan or a acceptance of whatever is going to happen......and it is hard most times to know whether the thought process brought the peace of mind, or perhaps just the walk itself.

The second book was Smile When you're Lying about the travel industry and the lies they tell and it was mostly very funny and light.

Lastly, I read with most relish Neal Stephenson's Diamond Age, a futuristic romp on a grand, imaginative scale, beautifully conceived and executed. An absolute treat. Ranks right up there for pleasure with The Baroque Cycle.