"Travel is a force for good. It broadens our minds, develops cultural empathy, and gives us a better understanding of the world.
And we should travel with our children, because we know these experiences not only improve their social skills (and language skills!) but are key to helping them become decent global citizens".
--Imogen Hall
And we should travel with our children, because we know these experiences not only improve their social skills (and language skills!) but are key to helping them become decent global citizens".
--Imogen Hall
It recently came to my attention...via Elizabeth McCusker's endless, endless postings
....that her close high school friend Lynn Marcisso understands the beauty and life-altering value of travel. Ms. Marcisso had wonderful experiences that even decades later she values, and looks back upon with pride and wonder.
And looking at the innocent smile on Liz McCusker's face as she embarks on her first international flight (which she didn't do until she was in her fifties! Wow), I do feel a little pity for her lack of knowledge. Seven hours across the Atlantic, in Economy class? Ugh.
I now travel only First Class (partly because of comfort in my old age, and partly because I can), and always access the various First Class Lounges and various town car/limo services. But trust me, there is no First Class service available-----no lie-flat bed made up with actual sheets by Japanese flight attendants; no endless amounts of champagne; not even the new hot showers in First Class---- that can make you happy to be in the air for 16 hours from Sydney to LAX.
Not that Liz can even fathom that kind of travel; or at least I don't think so. Her facebook page shows her happily enscounced in her seat in Economy Class for the 7 hour flight to Ireland. Steve said that is the one and only time that Liz has been out of the country. So lie-flat beds in First Class, with actual sheets? 5 course meals on demand whilst in the air? I am guessing that is an experience Liz perhaps dreams about.
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I had a mother who was absolutely crazy about the islands of the Caribbean, and left me a legacy of love for those islands and their history that has me owning two beautiful seaside homes on the island of Antigua today. My father's Naval service in World War 2 gave me the curiosity and need to see what he had seen in the South Pacific, and the fulfilled-wish of owning a plantation on one of those islands near the place that James Michener called Bali Ha'i.....the most beautiful place on Earth. In the musical South Pacific, Nellie sings, "Wonder how I'd feel, living on a hillside, looking on an ocean, beautiful and still". Thanks to the gift of travel, I know the answer to Nellie's question.
As Ms. Marcisso pointed out, travel is experiences. Travel is not sitting on a bus with a bunch of other Americans, and all getting off the bus at the same time when told to do so; staying at the motels for which the tour-company has managed to negotiate a cheap rate, and eating the same food in the same pubs. Travel to me is more like Ms. Marcisso's experience-----such as simply exploring and then having the moment captured by an artist on the Spanish Steps. (Of which Ms. Marcisso, at least, knows the location. Steve told me that Liz thought the Spanish Steps were in Spain).
I remember Steve McCusker telling me before he and Liz went to Ireland that Liz and her sister-in-law Rose were going to buy tickets for some bus tour. I said to Steve, "Oh please don't do that; for less money I can give you an itinerary and a driving tour that will really allow you to see Ireland". Steve told me "Liz says that this is the best way to see Ireland". Oh really? If she'd never been there before, how would she know?
So they did their thing. Liz likes to post a picture that she says is the lane on which her great grandfather lived, but I have it on good authority that she was misled-----this is a very typical ruse by Irish tour companies that cater to nostalgic Irish-Americans who wish to go
back to the Old Sod. "McGrath? Oh, your grandpa lived on this road. McSweeney? Your grandpa lived here. McCusker?".......well, you get the picture, as most sophisticated travelers would. It's not illegal because without a doubt common names have thousands of ancestors, and so the statement is accurate on some level-----maybe your 7th-level great-grandpa's third cousin twice removed, also named Walsh, lived on that lane. According to Irish government sources, unless one's folks were very wealthy, it is nearly impossible today to find the lanes and villages of the tenant farmers. The Ireland government web site also warns travelers of falling for "remarks by tour companies that your family lived in a certain village, or on a certain road".
I gather that the McCuskers also fell for the ruse of "Here is a certificate that shows your name".
The fact that Liz went to Ireland once will probably be in her obituary; so little has she seen of the world (though she continued to travel to Florida, even as their house was being foreclosed upon and they were having difficulty paying their bills). Florida! Her family seems to think that this is some kind of tropical paradise.
The beauty of it all
There has been a lot of research lately (not sure why) about the relationship of happiness to goods versus experiences. In every study, experiences win out. Without a doubt I am fortunate enough to have a lot of both, but I totally understand why experiences are the key to a satisfying and rich life.
So if you are borrowing, borrowing, borrowing money----for the nicer house, for a boat, for clothes in the closet---to the detriment of other things, then you are approaching the issue in a way that may ultimately prove very unfulfilling. Look for example at the ton of junk that the McCuskers left behind in their foreclosed-upon house [See "What a Mess: How the McCuskers Left their Foreclosed-upon Home" above]. At one time all that junk was new stuff, and represents an enormous amount of money spent; thousands and thousands and thousands of dollars. [It's ironic that much of that junk was purchased with cash borrowed on the home's equity, which borrowing led to the foreclosure of the home. Then the stuff gets left behind anyway]. What value did it have, ultimately?
So if you are borrowing, borrowing, borrowing money----for the nicer house, for a boat, for clothes in the closet---to the detriment of other things, then you are approaching the issue in a way that may ultimately prove very unfulfilling. Look for example at the ton of junk that the McCuskers left behind in their foreclosed-upon house [See "What a Mess: How the McCuskers Left their Foreclosed-upon Home" above]. At one time all that junk was new stuff, and represents an enormous amount of money spent; thousands and thousands and thousands of dollars. [It's ironic that much of that junk was purchased with cash borrowed on the home's equity, which borrowing led to the foreclosure of the home. Then the stuff gets left behind anyway]. What value did it have, ultimately?
"Oh the places you'll go!" (to quote Dr. Seuss)
Sometimes travel is about discovering new things, and sometimes it's about sitting on a beach drinking drinks with little umbrellas in them (which is basically what my husband and I did today before coming in to watch the Patriots game). (I'll be the first to admit this is much easier to do when my maid of 31 years does all the dinner-prep so all I have to do is put stuff in the oven during the 4th quarter. But that's my way of life, and I'll be the first to admit I appreciate it).
Of course the neighbors came over, not one of whom understands American football. But that's exactly my point------how to better get to know a country and it's people than sharing an experience in a private home? Explaining football, and the Patriots?
The best of travel involves a lot of subtle essences. The very best travel usually involves doing what the locals do----that is how you actually come to see and understand a country. You've got to step off the (literal or figurative) bus. Do you think that Dubliners spend their time traveling to the Cliffs of Moher and Blarney Castle? Do you think Parisians and Londoners spend our spare moments atop the Eiffel Tower or watching the changing of the guard? Of course not.
It seems to me that ESPECIALLY if one is visiting a family homeland, one would want to absorb all of the sights, sounds, smells, and tastes of one's ancestors. See what they saw. Get to know the descendants of the people your great-grandfather knew.
I realize not everyone is lucky enough to own homes here and there. For this I have one word of advice: Rent. Rent a house (or an apartment, or a condo) and get out into the neighborhood. Ask the farmer on the lane what he knows about the people that used to live there----your ancestors-----chances are if he doesn't know he can direct you to someone who does. Shop in the shops like grandpa did. Talk to the neighbors. Watch local television shows. Put yourself in others' shoes. Ask what they think of America or how they perceive world events. You might be surprised.
[The other fabulous thing about renting is that there are some amazing places out there, on web sites like VRBO.com. It's often less money than a hotel room, and of course it's not just one room! I rented a HUGE place in Sydney overlooking the harbour and the famous bridge--------5 rooms, gorgeous bathroom, and even a laundry-----for a little more than half the price of a regular room at the nearby Hyatt. AND you can wander into the kitchen in the morning and make yourself a cup of coffee without having to get out of your bathrobe].
Of course the neighbors came over, not one of whom understands American football. But that's exactly my point------how to better get to know a country and it's people than sharing an experience in a private home? Explaining football, and the Patriots?
The best of travel involves a lot of subtle essences. The very best travel usually involves doing what the locals do----that is how you actually come to see and understand a country. You've got to step off the (literal or figurative) bus. Do you think that Dubliners spend their time traveling to the Cliffs of Moher and Blarney Castle? Do you think Parisians and Londoners spend our spare moments atop the Eiffel Tower or watching the changing of the guard? Of course not.
It seems to me that ESPECIALLY if one is visiting a family homeland, one would want to absorb all of the sights, sounds, smells, and tastes of one's ancestors. See what they saw. Get to know the descendants of the people your great-grandfather knew.
I realize not everyone is lucky enough to own homes here and there. For this I have one word of advice: Rent. Rent a house (or an apartment, or a condo) and get out into the neighborhood. Ask the farmer on the lane what he knows about the people that used to live there----your ancestors-----chances are if he doesn't know he can direct you to someone who does. Shop in the shops like grandpa did. Talk to the neighbors. Watch local television shows. Put yourself in others' shoes. Ask what they think of America or how they perceive world events. You might be surprised.
[The other fabulous thing about renting is that there are some amazing places out there, on web sites like VRBO.com. It's often less money than a hotel room, and of course it's not just one room! I rented a HUGE place in Sydney overlooking the harbour and the famous bridge--------5 rooms, gorgeous bathroom, and even a laundry-----for a little more than half the price of a regular room at the nearby Hyatt. AND you can wander into the kitchen in the morning and make yourself a cup of coffee without having to get out of your bathrobe].
As the Limelighters said to me in 1960 in San Francisco [imitating a French woman to my young-self's confusion], "There's no substitute for experience"
Indeed.
I have had a "private tour" of the Vatican with 40 other people and stood with the nuns in my group in front of the tomb of Pope John Paul II and witnessed the nuns so moved that they took the rosaries off their waists and flung them onto his tomb. I too sobbed.
I've seen the body of Pope John XXIII, still lying under glass in an altar in St. Peter's.
I've seen downed WW2 planes in the waters of Saipan, where my father on his ship held fast for 44 days, and wanted to die himself as the defeated Japanese civilians-----over 20,000 of them----threw themselves off the cliff rather than surrender. My father could not speak of that without sobbing.......I took up the slack as I stood there myself, thinking of the despair and bravery of the Japanese, and the total despair of my father.
On that same island of Saipan, I stood in the cave where the last Japanese soldier from WW2 had held out, alone, until 1974.
I've rented a room in Venice in a building that dated back to the 1200s---lying in bed in the morning looking at the beams and wondering how many others had seen what I was seeing, over the last 800 years. I rented a 600-year-old farmhouse in Umbria (Steve McCusker still talks about how he could smell the woodsmoke that had permeated the stationery-----I was/still am a prolific letter-writer, who often wrote to Steve when I was traveling. At one point he said, "I have every letter you have ever written me". I believe he destroyed the letters when he left PSS).
I've sailed the Seychelles (where Will and Kate spent their honeymoon) and sunned myself on a beach where the annoyance was 100-year-old tortoises who would lumber up and look for pats on the head (though mostly it appeared they slept, ate, and had sex, not necessarily in that order).
Both Keith Richards and Eric Clapton have shared laughs here in my home in Antigua where I now sit, simply because our mutual love for this beautiful island led us to become friends.
London, and especially Paris, are like my back yard-----I never tire of just being there; of just sitting with a coffee and watching the beauty of the streets and the people on them.
I have stood in Typee Valley, where Herman Melville was held prisoner by the Marquesan tribes, and where he was inspired to write Moby Dick. I've walked inside Paul Gauguin's pleasure palace on Hiva Oa, and put flowers on his grave. I hiked the 11 miles across Fatu Hiva in the footsteps of Thor and Liv Heyerdahl.
I took the funicular up Mt. Blanc and skied down, initially off a 65-degree grade that frightened me so much I thought I'd need supplemental oxygen.
I could go on and on. So many memories, so many experiences, so many friends. Experiences!!!! So much better than just collecting "stuff".
But Liz still "likes", and comments upon, such stupid (to my mind) stuff. Facebook appears to be her world. It would be so good to save a bit of money and not do things virtually. But that would involve not spending one's day "liking" other peoples photos.
I have had a "private tour" of the Vatican with 40 other people and stood with the nuns in my group in front of the tomb of Pope John Paul II and witnessed the nuns so moved that they took the rosaries off their waists and flung them onto his tomb. I too sobbed.
I've seen the body of Pope John XXIII, still lying under glass in an altar in St. Peter's.
I've seen downed WW2 planes in the waters of Saipan, where my father on his ship held fast for 44 days, and wanted to die himself as the defeated Japanese civilians-----over 20,000 of them----threw themselves off the cliff rather than surrender. My father could not speak of that without sobbing.......I took up the slack as I stood there myself, thinking of the despair and bravery of the Japanese, and the total despair of my father.
On that same island of Saipan, I stood in the cave where the last Japanese soldier from WW2 had held out, alone, until 1974.
I've rented a room in Venice in a building that dated back to the 1200s---lying in bed in the morning looking at the beams and wondering how many others had seen what I was seeing, over the last 800 years. I rented a 600-year-old farmhouse in Umbria (Steve McCusker still talks about how he could smell the woodsmoke that had permeated the stationery-----I was/still am a prolific letter-writer, who often wrote to Steve when I was traveling. At one point he said, "I have every letter you have ever written me". I believe he destroyed the letters when he left PSS).
I've sailed the Seychelles (where Will and Kate spent their honeymoon) and sunned myself on a beach where the annoyance was 100-year-old tortoises who would lumber up and look for pats on the head (though mostly it appeared they slept, ate, and had sex, not necessarily in that order).
Both Keith Richards and Eric Clapton have shared laughs here in my home in Antigua where I now sit, simply because our mutual love for this beautiful island led us to become friends.
London, and especially Paris, are like my back yard-----I never tire of just being there; of just sitting with a coffee and watching the beauty of the streets and the people on them.
I have stood in Typee Valley, where Herman Melville was held prisoner by the Marquesan tribes, and where he was inspired to write Moby Dick. I've walked inside Paul Gauguin's pleasure palace on Hiva Oa, and put flowers on his grave. I hiked the 11 miles across Fatu Hiva in the footsteps of Thor and Liv Heyerdahl.
I took the funicular up Mt. Blanc and skied down, initially off a 65-degree grade that frightened me so much I thought I'd need supplemental oxygen.
I could go on and on. So many memories, so many experiences, so many friends. Experiences!!!! So much better than just collecting "stuff".
But Liz still "likes", and comments upon, such stupid (to my mind) stuff. Facebook appears to be her world. It would be so good to save a bit of money and not do things virtually. But that would involve not spending one's day "liking" other peoples photos.
