Skip to main content

The Pleasures of Travelling


People travel to faraway places to watch, in fascination, 
the kind of people they ignore at home. 

                                                                                                           -Dagobert D. Runes

Much has been said about travelling, about how it exposes us to a new culture, reveals endlessly a series of bright and beautiful sights that one could never find at home, how it reawakens in us a sense of childish curiosity and awe and reignites the explorer in our soul. And so it goes on and on.

The atmosphere these thoughts create is in itself extremely exciting. One can probably go delirious deciding where to go and what to do there, even before one has already been there. And when we finally arrive at our destination, the novelty of it all culminates in a visual orgasm, one after the other. “Waah, so nice!” is heard for the umpteenth time. Out comes the camera and the building is photographed from all 360 degrees and uploaded onto Facebook for the pleasure of the deprived at home. And before our eyes truly settle on the sight, we are off again, to our next destination. Our behaviour strangely resembles camels drinking huge amounts of water in face of an extended period without it. We gulp as many places as we can, because once home, travelling is too expensive, or assumed to be so. Therefore cramming so many places within a short period allows us to draw on the bliss of memory at some later boring point in our lives.

Besides, there is nothing much to explore or learn back home. Just a bunch of multi-coloured people with their occasionally noisy festivals and practises that we are used to by now. The museums and parks, well, that’s more for the tourists and the retired. Besides why care? I have been to Paris, I have been to Amsterdam, I have been to Berlin. What is ‘thank you’ in German? Well, it does not matter; the Germans understand English. Why are there the ‘xxx’ signs all across Amsterdam? Probably has to do something with all the sex and the porn around. And the Italians who were living with me in my dorm, well, they seemed nice, but I did not have any time to talk to them.

Because you see, I am a traveller.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

An Ode to Marriage

I remember pondering about the need for marriage during a certain period of my life. Partially inspired by stoicism, I saw a man as an island in a big ocean, continuously being battered by the waves and storms, but holding fort and growing strong with each test. It was also when the idea of monasticism greatly appealed to me, to leave behind, for the lack of a better work, the bullshit of society and trying to attain enlightenment.  Somehow that idea fell apart after a brief meditation stint in a monastery, but the idea of marriage I resisted. The freedom that came from being single seemed too precious to let go. Furthermore life was complicated as it is. Why complicate it further by introducing another person to that life, someone who would bring her own mannerisms, rules, habits, many that might end up conflicting with your own. However, a lot of these ideas and beliefs start to die when friends of yours each start getting into their own relationships and have no more time for yo...

Sparing the Rod

 She gave me a look of deep displeasure, not very atypical of the look most members of the opposite gender gave me. “You know you can’t do that in Germany?”, she asserted with the same authority my mother used to tell me about not messing around in her kitchen.  “Yes I am aware”, I meekly responded, knowing well that any kind of argument about this would not end well, so it was better to close off the topic quietly and unlike the kitchen, I could not afford to get kicked out of Germany. She was not the first to respond with such hostility to what seemed like the most natural of things in my experience. The last one who told me the same was a teacher I had met at a party. When she sounded shocked that I was ok with it and said it was not right, I (with some alcoholic courage) had retorted, “How would you discipline them then if they do something wrong?” “I would tell them I am very disappointed with them”. I almost laughed. However, that was very much the theory of my new frien...

Wework

 "An end of an era", as my colleague aptly put it. It surely felt like it. After almost 3 years of memories, the occupants of the tiny office in Hackesher Markt were to be moved to one of the big, gleaming company offices, like chess pieces in the game of capitalism. After 3 years we would all start on our own ways, an eventuality we all knew was coming, just not on such a short notice. At a corporate level, such a move produced all the right words that provided visibility and hopefully a promotion and an office with a view for someone; strategic resource redistribution, cost optimisation etc etc. Though to the ones parting, that little office was one of the few solaces in this rat race. It had offered friends in the place of politically correct colleagues, it had offered juicy gossip, offered an avenue to let out all the frustration around toxic bosses and meaningless tasks, offered song and laughter at the expense of each other and the neighbors next door. It had offered co...