Postcard 10: Sailing

Not long after we had started dating, you shared one of your most profound wishes with me: sailing on a beautiful two or three mast vessel through the Pacific. Probably this dream originated in Canada, where you, as a young boy, spent many summers sailing the lakes. Years later, still being very fond of boats, studying naval architecture was an obvious choice. Somewhere on the way I came into your life and since then many events have crossed our paths. However, sailing for months or even years in dangerous waters was not one of them.

So, if you haven’t read it yet, let me recommend a sailing book to you: ‘Sailing alone around the world’, by Captain Joshua Slocum. It is considered travel literature. In the book the Captain describes his adventures on his self-built vessel, in which he sailed around the world for three years, all by himself. Believe it or not, but he did this journey more than a century ago!

You’ll find out how Captain Joshua Slocum mastered the weather, waves and currents. He mended broken equipment, continued despite illness and injuries, and escaped from pirates and savages. The book covers three years in three hundred pages, which makes it an especially entertaining and fast read. At times it is thrillingly exciting when the Captain seems to be threatened by pirates or savages. I have no doubt that you will enjoy this book enormously. Even a striking detail that I personally regard as a deficiency in the story, - the complete lack of emotions like fear or pain- , will most probably be in your line.

Do read this book and appreciate the explorer’s bravery, but beware: Although the writer does not give the impression of being on a hazardous journey, always keep in mind that he actually was. A few years after the adventures written about in ‘Sailing alone around the world’, Captain Joshua Slocum set sail again. Only this time he was never heard from again.

Postcard 9: Flea market ponderings

Honey,

Let’s be clear about óne thing: we are not going to visit flea markets while we are in New York City! You have probably heard of the transformation of school yards and baseball courts into true marketplaces, all over the US. Supposedly, there is one such flea market a few blocks away from New York’s Central Park, close to where we have booked a hotel. Just forget about it, we’ll definitely skip that excursion.

Let’s be realistic. Why do New Yorkers visit flea markets? Anything you can imagine is available in big box stores that are opened twenty-four hours a day. Still, people trade the convenience of super malls for hours of searching through partly second-hand rubbish, and possibly end up with nothing. Sometimes they don’t even know what they are looking for; they enjoy themselves as long as they may search for an indefinite object. They become excited at the thought of browsing through stalls with books that have a lousy smell, sifting through bins of buttons and looking through piles of sweaters that no one really wants to wear. I consider it a neurotic, compulsive disease to visit flea markets voluntarily and bring home useless souvenirs. Useless souvenirs, for which one pays money, on top of it all.

Now don’t get all upset, but let’s face it. You - as a fervent flea market visitor - may realize that often the object brought home from flea markets is a whim. Once your acquisition is taken out of its original setting – the vibrant, enthralling flea market – it looses its charm. If the main joy of visiting flea markets is the search itself, let me point out to you the following: I can not relate to this feeling, because shopping without a clear goal seems illogical to me. So, since we are going on this trip together, this time I am very firm in my decision: we shall not waste any precious time in New York visiting flea markets or the like.

Postcard 8: Rather alone

Thank goodness, I am having a fantastic time here in Sweden! My trip started of not so swell, but since the group and I split up my spirits have lifted again. Wonder what happened?

The ride up, - through the Netherlands and Germany to Denmark, crossing by ferry to Sweden and onwards- , was quite tiring: I was squished between two seats for nearly twelve hours. On top of that, a co-traveller amused herself with the bus driver, playing some stupid ipod-guessing game for hours. They did not respond to my pleading to stop and be quiet. In stead they laughed loudly at my complaints. After a week, spending twenty-four hours a day with these strangers with whom I could not connect, nonetheless forced to share a campsite and food, I got sick and tired of acting friendly and polite. So I urged the driver to drop me of at the nearest bus stop. This decision I should have taken six days earlier!

The bus, an interliner, brought me to Stockholm, a truly cosmopolitan European capital. You cannot imagine how beautiful and culturally interesting the fourteen islands that Stockholm consists of are. I hitchhiked my way around, though in the centre of the city the subway was very convenient.

One day I visited Djurgården, one of Stockholm’s central islands. I could get quite close to it by subway. From the subway I walked along the water, admiring the anchored boats, and crossed an old bridge to the island that is known for its nature, the Vasa ship and Skansen, which is an open-air museum. I headed for the open-air museum. The weather was great, sunny and clear. I found it striking that most Swedes were dressed in shorts or skirts, not minding the milky legs sticking out underneath them. In Skansen the different historical buildings reconstructed from all over the country were absolutely lovely. However, the highlight of the day I found in the unique zoo-area of the park: a lazy male moose with enormous antlers posed for me close to the fence. I can’t wait to show you the pictures when I’m back home!

PS: As you see, I’m all right now that I can go my own way. Don’t worry about me being lonely: Travelling alone brings me into contact with many different people. And I get to choose with whom I’d like to interact or not. So far I have met many hospitable and friendly Swedes. As for the lesson I have learnt: I’ll never join an organised tour group again!

Postcard 7: Misplaced modesty

Lonneke, one of my fellow students who shared some of her experiences and thoughts on travelling in Bulgaria with us, ended her story with two wise remarks: first of all, when you’re abroad, enjoy the differences in culture. Secondly, remember how privileged you are as a citizen of the Netherlands, while considering the wrongs around you in some other countries. What can happen when you ignore your personal values and copy a country’s bad habits?

You are a student of Cultural Anthropology, doing research in rural Mozambique: Nothing is the way you are used to. There is no chance that you would not notice the cultural differences around you and absorb them intensely. During the previous years of study you have been trained to write everything you see and hear down on note blocks. This is what you do eagerly for weeks. (Remember you are living in the paper era).

You find Mozambican friends and acquaintances. Slowly but surely you get to know your way around. Where do you go when your dollars are spent and the bank that normally accepts your travellers’ cheques has closed its doors? “Meet me on the Avenida do Lourenzo Marquês at two,” one of your Mozambican acquaintances suggests. An hour later he guides you into a dark doorway leading to a small room. There you wait another hour and a half for an old, grey bearded Indian moneylender. He exchanges your American dollars to Mozambican Meticais against an extraordinary good rate.

Your temporary residence permit will soon expire. Has it really almost been six months since you arrived to this South-eastern African country? You feel that you have adapted to ‘the Mozambican way’. And you are aware that there is a less time-consuming and head wrecking way to obtain official documents than the fully legal way. How will you approach this dilemma?

You have second thoughts. Time passes. You are still not sure if you should follow the legal path or not. Even when everybody claims that it is normal to bribe officials and pass the less fortunate people in line with cash Dollars, part of your Dutch being objects to this. You feel torn between going along in what seems a harsh, unfair reality of corruption and your own values. But at the same time, there is a tiny bit of curiosity in how far you could go.

How does it end? Your curiosity takes the overhand. With only a week to go, you decide to call in your middlemen and let them take care of the so needed document. You find out that it would only cost you around fifty American Dollars to obtain a precious Mozambican passport with your picture in it. However you, modest as always, are satisfied with a residence permit with a validity of a year. Within a few days and about twenty Dollars lighter you have your permit, officially stamped by the clerk who accepted the bribe money. A month later you fly back to the Netherlands.

With the above in mind, we must conclude that it is not only advisable to enjoy cultural differences and realise how privileged citizens of the Netherlands are. On top of this good advice, we should be warned not to go along too far in some culturally accepted ways. They may be bad habits and affect your personal integrity.

Postcard 6: Houseboat memories

No matter how entertaining the article about lodging on the water in Amsterdam was, it could not compete with my experiences in Kashmir, fifteen years ago. Already the title – ‘Holiday on a Houseboat’ - caused my mind to wander to the marvellous time I spent on the waters in Kashmir, India.

The barges in Amsterdam are convenient; however houseboats in Srinagar, the capital of Kashmir, are superlatives of luxurious, spacious and artistic woodwork. While lodging on an Amsterdam houseboat will give the tourist a feeling of fitting into the environment, on a Kashmir houseboat one will touch upon the life of a maharaja: you may sit outside on a beautifully decorated bench of the terrace deck and enjoy the cha and fruit that servants bring you several times a day. Houseboats in Amsterdam are self-catering, whereas a houseboat in Kashmir includes room-service.

Fifteen years ago, after the initial embarrassment and hesitation, I had surrendered to the status of raj, waved my hand and relaxed. In between relaxation I would let myself be paddled around by one or two locals across the silvery lakes covered with water lilies. A lovely Indian evening meal would be served, before I would find sleep in my king-sized bed. It is amazing that these days filled with nothing but luxury, leisure and oblivion have left such an imprint in my memory!

There were only a few moments that brought me down to earth from what seemed like paradise. The first one was an earthquake. Seeing the land on the horizon, water around me and furniture next to me move in unexpected directions frightened me a great deal. On other moments I was startled by the gunfire I heard far away. How ironic! The same time I enjoyed the beauties of Kashmir, separatists fought for it with still no clear outcome.

The truth is that each houseboat experience will have it’s up- and downsides. Nevertheless, I for my part have predominantly joyful memories of the days spent on the seemingly royal houseboat in Kashmir. Therefore I am grateful to have recovered those houseboat memories.

Postcard 5: A holiday suggestion

A couple of days ago, Marloes told me about her virgin travel experience outside of Europe, which had been in Thailand. While carefully listening to the details of her trip and the possibilities this country offers to tourists, I could not help but think of you. Were you not recently in search of a far-away holiday destination?

I happen to know about your weakness for Eastern lifestyles like Buddhism. Thailand’s capital, Bangkok, houses hundreds of Buddhist temples. Some of these temple complexes stand out in their historical and spiritual importance. For example the ‘Wat Phra Kaew’, a temple complex that comprises beautifully decorated buildings, sculptures and pagodas. Most Buddhist temples are inhabited by monks. A monk’s goal is to make merit for his family and goodness, which both determine his karma. I am sure that exchanging thoughts with these monks would give your holiday an extra dimension, aren’t you?

Another attraction in this country is the food. You may have visited Thai restaurants in the Netherlands and found it tasteful, but spicy. Now listen to this: According to Marloes the food in Thailand makes your eyes bulge out! A drug for Thai people, it has a more than physical effect on Europeans. Are you already warming up at the idea of immersing in the genuine Thai cuisine? Are you in for this challenge?

Now that I mention challenges, walking for example in a market in Bangkok is incomparable to walking at the Waterloo square in Amsterdam. First of all, you may be surprised by some of the products -dead or alive- Thai people sell. Secondly the crowd will give you a cramped feeling. However, friendly and considerate as ever, signs in English will warn you to watch out for pickpockets.

Have my words convinced you to book a ticket to Thailand for next summer? Then let me make one final suggestion: don’t travel alone, take me along!

Postcard 4: Mom

You have probably been anxious to receive some news from me. I know it has been a while since my last sign of life. What can I say, time flies when you’re having fun. About two weeks ago I made it to Palermo on Sicily on my Vespa (after a horrific overnight ferry from Sardinia) and I absolutely love it here. Not only is the landscape stunning (envision the impressive Monte Pellegrino amidst a high mountain range running along the back of the city) and the food delicious (you can wake me any time for the wonderful local seafood dishes): especially the life style of these Italians has captured my heart. It all comes down to the fact that people here are basically living for the moment. The energy that comes from this is enthralling and inspiring.

For example, walking the streets of Palermo is a true adventure, let alone driving around on a Vespa. On market days, you’ll notice a lot of hustling on the streets, all kinds of vendors, men and women, selling the most trivial products you can imagine. The noise and smell are enhanced by the many scooters that find their way winding past the many stalls. The first time I drove on my Vespa through this commotion I felt the adrenaline pumping through my body. Since then I have adapted to the Italian driving style. You would be amazed by seeing me move around like a local.

On the one hand I love the fast pace which people expect you to adapt to on the street; on the other hand I relax when the temperature forces me and the rest of the city to lay low. Then the harbour lies quiet, taking a break from the usual activity and preparing for the next to come. I simply enjoy this circle of liveliness to a close to spiritual nothingness and back.

Mom, I had planned to stay here for just a week. The Italian way of ‘living for the moment’ has kept me from moving on. We shall see what the future brings when you receive my next letter.