The Case For Travel
Image by Maria Medem (The New Yorker)
Having recently launched my own travel blog, it was fortuitous timing to read this week’s controversial New Yorker Piece,“The Case Against Travel.” Subheadine? “It turns us into the worst version of ourselves while convincing us that we’re at our best.” Here’s my response.
The piece kicks off with a quotation from Pessoa’s Book of Disquiet - which I read in late high school during a particularly existential, angst driven phase. (So, let’s just set the stage there…) The author cites Pessoa, “Travel is for those who cannot feel. . . . Only extreme poverty of the imagination justifies having to move around to feel.”
Then, the author elaborates on her overarching nihilistic perspective by citing a few bad personal trips. She describes the disappointment of a scenic location not living up to preconceived romantic images of the place and similar anecdotes of travel dissatisfaction. Most notably, the author describes herself as someone who "has stood before a monument or painting...and demanded herself to feel something." She discusses attempts to connect to others by "staring at people intently...inspecting their clothing, interactions, trying to see the Frenchness in them. This is not the way to make friends."
Of course that isn't the way to make friends. In lamenting travel’s seeming lack of human connection, the author fails to take a hard look at her own behavior and grasp the self-perpetuating quality of her own claims. A pessimistic mindset directly informs such stale travel experiences. If she were only to witness herself from afar, I think she’d see a very tightly wound traveler. Someone with rigid expectations, who feels immense frustration when something doesn't strike the exact emotional chord she was seeking, and who simply spectates all while silently grumbling. Sounds like a really fun travel companion, right? Travel doesn't divorce us from humanity or turn us into the worst versions of ourselves. But it can if you approach travel the way the author does.
I encourage the author to rethink travel with a fresh mindset and behaviorial adjustments. Relax, let go of expectations, and view the situation with an open mind. Listen to your senses rather than over-intellectualizing what’s happening. Let yourself laugh. Try to strike up a conversation to break the wall between spectator and image. You just might have a better time.
And if she dislikes other people, has the author ever witnessed the sight of nature's beauty? Maybe a falcon, painting, or monument won't pull at her heartstrings. But I challenge her to look out over majestic ocean cliffs, a rugged canyon, or a city’s lights from an airplane and to not make a single impressed remark at the view.
Upon loosening up, she might discover that travel does unlock more than a few significant personal qualities. Our curiosity to explore the surprises in our environment even the unforeseen ones. Our openness to connect with people from different walks of life when we actually try to socialize. Respect for history and cultural differences even if we don’t “get” it from the outset. And most importantly, deeper inquiry about our own selves and why we react to things the way we do.
The biggest criticism that I would have preferred the author expand upon? “We go to experience a change, but end up inciting change on others." The extractive impact of tourism in local communities and the environmental impact of travel are worthy discussions to be having. (Link to recent AFAR Podcast Episode on Climate & Travel).
But nihilistic commentary due to a few bad trips to Paris and Abu Dhabi? That’s a hot take I’ll gladly pass on!
P.S: Said author mentioned that she disliked visiting a falconry as “If you are going to see something you neither value nor aspire to value, you are not doing much of anything besides locomoting.” Conversely, here's a photo of me holding a falcon in Spain post arrival —on 3 hours of sleep. I understood 0% of my impromptu falcon tour as it was completely in Spanish. And I didn't expect to be or feel changed after the fact. But it was definitely fun. Can’t we celebrate that?
