What Draws Us to New Places?
I traveled a lot as I grew up in a military family, and continued to travel out of habit after leaving the nest. The question of where to go was easy as a child; I had no say. Uncle Sam picked my father’s next port of call, and we moved there.
As an adult, I had a bit more say in the matter. Just a bit. National monuments, historical sites, cities of reputation, stomping grounds of relatives, and favourite places of my past filled my dance card. I always tried to incorporate walking and biking, my preferred modes of personal transportation, and always took a camera.
Making Love to the Bus
The longest trip I’ve ever taken on a bus was an overnighter in Egypt. Frankly, it was one overnight bus trip too many. What ensued was later referred to as ‘making love to the bus.’ It was hot, it was sweaty and I was constantly changing positions. It challenged even my most basic notions of pleasure and pain and heaven and hell.
We left from Sharm El Shiek in the early evening, set to arrive in Alexandria eleven hours later. We had to be in Alexandria the next day and that was the last bus out of town. There was a small liquor store we somehow found near the bus stop and we loaded up, hoping to get so blissfully drunk that we wouldn’t remember the ride at all.
None of us had the heart to really go full throttle waiting for the bus with a bunch of native Egyptians all eying us warily. I drank a little bit of whiskey to help dull the senses, but that was it. We all knew it was a stupid idea to begin with, especially before a long bus ride. A kid, in his early teens, was mesmerized by our unopened bottle of rum, still in the paper bag.
An Interesting Quote by Orison Swett Marden
An article by Dave at Go Back Packing sparked some interesting thoughts. The article was based around the following quote:
Things My Father Told Me to Never Tell My Mother
When it came to weekend exploring, it was my father and me all the way. Sometimes it was simply an innocent fishing trip, or an afternoon learning to shoot arrows or ride a horse. Some trips were business related, although Dad never seemed to wear his Navy uniform during these trips to nearby cities. Hmm.
Anyway, we had a bond between us as brothers of the road. There was no reason to tell Mom that the only public restrooms sometimes were the bushes behind a roadside billboard. In the spirit of partnership and humility - so it was explained to me - the daily catch of fish was attributed to both of us, even if my father only caught one small pan fish to my five monsters. And that cut on Dad’s cheek was from a wayward tree branch, not a civilian’s fist at that bar on the way home.
Red Carded For Life
We stepped off of the plane and, seemingly, into the middle of Colombia. Within minutes of landing in the country, we were sitting in the middle of Bucaramanga watching Atlético Bucaramanga take on highly regarded Liga Deportivo Universitaria Quito in a contested and passionate football game (That’s ‘soccer’ for us Yanks). Everything relating to soccer in Colombia is witnessed and played with such fervor, that it would make the Pope blush.
The instances of an overzealous soccer culture in Colombia are numerous. In 1994, a defender for the national side, Andrés Escobar, was shot and killed in Barranquilla, by a fan upset at Escobar and the team’s failures at the World Cup, after having scored an ‘own goal’ in the World Cup that summer, thus eliminating the team, and the country, from World Cup 1994 in the United States—the deadly mistake was actually in a game against the USA, one of Colombia’s biggest rivals in the tournament.
A little further back in history, the story gets even more absurd. In 1970, while the England squad was in Colombia for a World Cup warm-up game, star England player Bobby Moore was arrested on charges of stealing a diamond necklace. The charges proved to be totally false, and Moore was quietly released. A few weeks later, while the team was back in Colombia on layover, Moore was arrested again, on the same phony charges and was again forced to spend weeks dealing with various levels of Colombian jurisdiction. Eventually, the charges were dropped and Moore was allowed to return to England.
Our game, hometown Bucaramanga, versus Quito would prove to be no different. The first image I have of the game was a giant pig, being roasted whole, on a spit that was slowly being turned by kids no older than me. The ears and were tail still attached, something that seemed horrifying and degrading. The stadium was packed, and people in the lower levels spilled out right up to the barbed wire fence that surrounded the field.
The Attraction of America’s Roadside Distractions
If carefully planned, driving across the United States can be a trip back in time to a world of innocent roadside attractions. Places that seem to exist only in coffee table books and old family movies suddenly loom ahead as you drive along an old strip of Route 66 or take a diverting scenic drive down a long-bypassed highway.
Yes, there actually is a giant ball of string in Darwin, Minnesota – and another one in Cawker City, Kansas. Across America you can find glass aquariums holding various desert critters like snakes, scorpions, and large hairy spiders. You can still see life-size dinosaurs, and even go inside some, as well as a giant chicken, a giant elephant, and various giant fruits and vegetables. Pose next to Paul Bunyon’s giant blue ox, Babe, or a 140-foot long fish. Pet an actual buffalo.
Picture Perfect Travel Photography
Unless you’re a purist, or working for National Geographic, consider leaving your expensive camcorder or SLR camera at home during your next trip. Especially when film or tape is involved, heat, cold, humidity, stray light, and even ambient electromagnetic fields can ruin your media. You will find yourself invariably rationing your limited number of still shots or taped minutes, missing some precious opportunities.
The Joys of Snake
Lost in the backstreets in the backcountry of some far off foreign place, I reluctantly pondered the victim of my whims. I had come to eat snake, a local delicacy and aphrodisiac, and I had come to the right place. Upon ordering, I was quickly hurried to a back room, lined wall to wall with cages of various soon-to-be-dinners. There were things I could easily recognize; rabbits, snakes, chickens…and things, which upon first glance, I had never seen before.
I was led to a large cage in the middle of the room and told to pick a snake from the hundreds that slithered around and over each other within the confines of the cage. Indiana Jones would not have been very pleased.
Leaving For Las Vegas in Red Alert!
My wife and I met on the Internet, dated by cross-country flights (Tampa, Florida – Vancouver, BC), and chose to meet halfway to get married in Las Vegas, Nevada, by Elvis Presley. You know, the same old story.
But wait! On the morning of our Elvis-bound flights, we woke up in our respective countries to the news that another barrel full of US-bound nut jobs were just arrested in England and that a Red Alert had been established at the airlines. Orange Alert prevailed in the US, which is disruptive enough. But my Canadian cutie was suddenly facing possible body cavity searches – and not by her fiancé!
Drastic Measures on the Road: Metric vs. English
In my teens, I was so enamoured by hiking and biking that I missed the seemingly obligatory fascination with cars. Once I was a bit older and wiser – and still without a driver’s license – I took the environmentally friendly stance of supporting public transportation for many years. Finally, I succumbed to practicalities and became licensed, insured, and burdened with car payments.
Then came the hard part. I’m not talking about learning how to drive a stick shift, although that was no picnic, believe me. And the question of whether to fill my tank with gasoline, diesel, or salad oil was thankfully resolved by my country’s dogged pursuit to own and burn every last drop of foreign oil. No, even suffering steering wheels on the right side pales in comparison to the dreaded road conversions.
