by Rick Steves
Rick Steves
TRAVEL AS A POLITICAL ACT
Credits:
Rick Steves’ Europe Lead Editor: Cameron Hewitt
RSE Managing Editor: Risa Laib
Proofreader: Janet Walden
Interior Design and Layout: Rhonda Pelikan
Cover Design: Erin Seaward-Hiatt
Photography: Rick Steves, Cameron Hewitt, Dean Cannon, Trish Feaster,
Dominic Arizona Bonuccelli, Abdi Sami, Simon Griffith, Steve Smith,
Anthony P. Lilly, Wikimedia Commons. Front cover map photographed by
Geoffrey Fritsch/ThinkStock.com.
For the latest on Rick’s lectures, guidebooks, tours, public radio show, and public television
series, contact Rick Steves’ Europe, 130 Fourth Avenue North, Edmonds, WA 98020,
425/771-8303, www.ricksteves.com, [email protected].
Copyright © 2015 by Rick Steves
Published by Avalon Travel
A Member of the Perseus Books Group
1700 Fourth Street
Berkeley, CA 94710
First printing November 2014.
All rights reserved. No part of this book
may be reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except
in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
A CIP catalog record for this book is available from the Library of Congress.
LCCN: 2009922566
eISBN: 978-1-63121-124-9
ISBN: 978-1-63121-068-6
Contents
Introduction
1: How to Travel as a Political Act
2: Lessons from the Former Yugoslavia: After the War
3: Europe Unites: Successes and Struggles
4: Resurrection in El Salvador
5: Denmark: Highly Taxed and Highly Content
6: Turkey and Morocco: Sampling Secular Islam
7: Europe: Not “Hard on Drugs” or “Soft on Drugs”…but Smart on Drugs
8: Mission: Understand Iran
9: The Holy Land: Israelis and Palestinians Today
10: Homecoming
Index
Introduction
On a visit to Turkey, I met a dervish. Dervishes—who are sort of like Muslim monks—follow Rumi, a mystic poet and philosopher of divine love. (I like to think Rumi and St. Francis would hit it off well.) They’re called “whirling dervishes” because they spin in a circle as they pray. The dervish allowed me to observe his ritual on the condition that I understood what it meant to him.
The dervish led me to his flat rooftop—a peaceful oasis in the noisy city of Konya—where he prayed five times a day. With the sun heavy and red on the horizon, he explained, “When we pray, we keep one foot in our community, anchored in our home. The other foot steps around and around, acknowledging the beautiful variety of God’s creation…touching all corners of this great world. I raise one hand up to acknowledge the love of God, and the other hand goes down like the spout of a teapot. As I spin around, my hand above receives the love from our Creator, and my hand below showers it onto all of his creation.”
As the dervish whirled and whirled, he settled into a meditative trance. And so did I. Watching his robe billow out and his head tilt over, I saw a conduit of love acknowledging the greatness of God. This man was so different from me, yet very much the same. This chance interaction left me with a renewed appreciation of the rich diversity of humanity…as well as its fundamental oneness.
Experiences like this one can be any trip’s most treasured souvenir. When we return home, we can put what we’ve learned—our newly acquired broader perspective—to work as citizens of a great nation confronted with unprecedented challenges. And when we do that, we make travel a political act.
I enjoyed my most powerful travel experience ever on my first trip overseas. I was a 14-year-old with my parents, visiting relatives in Norway. We were in Oslo’s vast Frogner Park—which, then as now, is filled with Gustav Vigeland’s great stony statues of humans of all ages, shapes, and sizes.
Immersed in this grand, chiseled celebration of family and humanity, I gained a new insight into my little world. I noticed how much my parents were loving me. Their world revolved around me. They would do anything to make me happy and help me enjoy a fulfilling life. At great expense to their meager family budget, they were making it possible for me to travel. Then I remember looking out over that park. It was speckled—like a Monet painting—with countless other parents…all lavishing love on their children. Right there, my 14-year-old egocentric worldview took a huge hit. I thought, “Wow, those parents love their kids as much as my parents love me. This planet is home to billions of equally lovable children of God.” I’ve carried that understanding with me in my travels ever since.
On the same trip, I sat on the carpet with Norwegian cousins, watching the Apollo moon landing. As Neil Armstrong took that first step on the moon, my relatives heard his famous sentence translated into Norwegian: “Ett lite skritt for et menneske, ett stort skritt menneskeheten.” Sharing the excitement of everyone in that room, I realized that while this was an American triumph, it was also a human one—one giant leap for mankind indeed—and the entire planet was celebrating.
As an idealistic young adult, I struggled with what I’d do with my one life. I wanted to work hard at something worthwhile and contribute to society. I wondered if it was really noble to teach wealthy Americans to travel. As a child, my earliest image of “travel” was of rich Americans on fancy white cruise ships in the Caribbean, throwing coins off the deck so they could photograph what they called the “little dark kids” jumping in after them. They’d take these photos home as souvenirs of their relative affluence. That was not the kind of travel I wanted to promote.
Even today, remnants of that notion of travel persist. I believe that for many Americans, traveling still means seeing if you can eat five meals a day and still snorkel when you get into port. When I say that at a cruise convention, people fidget nervously. But I’m not condemning cruise vacations. I’m simply saying I don’t consider that activity “travel.” It’s hedonism. (And I don’t say that in a judgmental way, either. I’ve got no problem with hedonism…after all, I’m a Lutheran.) Rather than accentuate the difference between “us” and “them,” I believe travel should bring us together. If I’m evangelical about the value of travel, it’s the thoughtful and challenging kind of travel—less caloric perhaps…but certainly much more broadening.
And so, since that first trip back in 1969, I’ve spent a third of my life overseas, living out of a backpack, talking to people who see things differently than me. It makes me a little bit of an odd duck.
For the last 35 years, I’ve taught people how to travel. I focus mostly on the logistics: finding the right hotel, avoiding long lines, sampling local delicacies, and catching the train on time. But that’s not why we travel. We travel to have enlightening experiences, to meet inspirational people, to be stimulated, to learn, and to grow.
Travel has taught me the fun in having my cultural furniture rearranged and my ethnocentric self-assuredness walloped. It has humbled me, enriched my life, and tuned me in to a rapidly changing world. And for that, I am thankful. In this book, I’ll share what has made my travels most rewarding, and how they have helped shape my worldview and inspired my activism.
As a travel teacher, I’ve been fortunate to draw from a variety of rich overseas experiences. And, since just after 9/11, I’ve been giving a lecture I call “Travel as a Political Act.” I enjoy flying all over the USA, giving this talk to peacenik environmentalists in Boulder, high-society ladies’ clubs in Charlotte, homemakers in
Toledo, Members of Congress and their aides on Capitol Hill, and at universities across the country.
With this book, I flesh out the message of that talk and trace the roots of my ideas to the actual personal travel experiences from which they originated. While I draw from trips all over the globe, my professional focus is Europe, so most of my anecdotes are set in Europe. Europe is not that exotic, but it’s on par with us in development, confidence, and impact on the developing world. Consequently, Europe provides an instructive parallel-yet-different world from which to view the accomplishments of our society and the challenges we face.
I enjoy bettering myself by observing others. And I appreciate constructive criticism from caring friends. In that same spirit, I enjoy learning about my society by observing other societies and challenging myself (and my neighbors) to be broad-minded when it comes to international issues. Holding our country to a high standard and searching for ways to better live up to its lofty ideals is not “America-bashing.” It’s good citizenship.
I’m unapologetically proud to be an American. The United States has made me who I am. I spend plenty of time in other countries, but the happiest day of any trip is the day I come home. I’d never live abroad, and I’d certainly not have as much fun running my business overseas as I do here at home. America is a great and innovative nation that the world understandably looks to for leadership. But other nations have some pretty good ideas, too. By learning from our travels and bringing these ideas home, we can make our nation even stronger. As a nation of immigrants whose very origin is based on the power of diversity (“out of many, one”), this should come naturally to us…and be celebrated.
This book isn’t a preachy political treatise. (At least, I hope it isn’t.) Since I’m a travel writer at heart, this book is heavy on travel tales and people-to-people connections. My premise is that thoughtful travel comes with powerful lessons. With this book, I hope to inspire others to travel more purposefully.
I’ll draw conclusions throughout…not always confident that I’m right. My goal is not to be “right” all the time, but to learn with an open mind, to consider new solutions to old problems, to come home and look more honestly into the mirror, and to become involved in helping our society confront its challenges more wisely.
By the nature of this book, you’ll get a lot of my opinions. My opinions are shaped by who I am. Along with being a traveler, I’m a historian, Christian, parent, carnivore, musician, capitalist, minimalist, member of NORML, and a workaholic. I’ve picked up my progressive politics (and my favorite ways to relax) largely from the people I’ve met overseas. And I seem to end up teaching everything I love: history, music, travel…and now, politics.
Your opinions will differ from mine because we draw from different life experiences. As a writer, I’ll try not to abuse my bully pulpit. Still, rather than take the edge off of my opinions, I’ll share them with the knowledge that good people can respectfully disagree with each other. I’ve always marveled at how passionate I am when my Dad and I disagree on some political issue. He’s my flesh and blood. Often his political assessment of something will exasperate me. I love him—but how can he possibly believe these things? While I don’t necessarily want him to change his mind, I want him to understand my perspective. Sharing it with him consumes me. In writing this book, I’ve discovered a similar passion. I want to share what I’ve learned with my fellow Americans…because I consider us all part of one big family. And I assume that you’re reading this book for the same reason that I wrote it: because we both care.
In the following chapter, I lay out the framework—the fundamental skills—that have helped me open up my perspective. Then we’ll travel together to very different destinations. By the time we return home, I hope that—as on any good trip—we’ll have a richer understanding of our world.
Chapter 1
How to Travel as a Political Act
Travel like a Medieval Jester
Choosing to Travel on Purpose
Connect with People
Stow Your Preconceptions and Be Open to New Experiences
Take History Seriously—Don’t Be Dumbed Down
Overcome Fear
The American Dream, Bulgarian Dream, Sri Lankan Dream: Celebrate Them All
Gimme that Old-Time Religion…with an International Spin
Get Beyond Your Comfort Zone—Choose to Be Challenged
See the Rich/Poor Gap for Yourself
Okay, Let’s Travel…
If this book is a trip featuring exciting destinations, this first chapter is the flight over—a great time to mentally prepare for a trip. To get the most value out of your travels, plan to get out of your comfort zone, meet the people, and view other cultures—as well as our own—with an open mind. Here’s how I do it. (I’ll try to make it worth missing the in-flight movie.)
Travel like a Medieval Jester
I’m a travel writer. According to conventional wisdom, injecting politics into your travel writing is not good for business. Isn’t travel, after all, a form of recreational escapism? Yes…but it can be much more.
For me, since September 12, 2001, the role of a travel writer has changed. I see the travel writer of the 21st century like the court jester of the Middle Ages. While thought of as a jokester, the jester was in a unique position to tell truth to power without being punished. Back then, kings were absolute rulers—detached from the lives of their subjects. The court jester’s job was to mix it up with people that the king would never meet. The jester would play in the gutter with the riffraff. Then, having fingered the gritty pulse of society, he’d come back into the court and tell the king the truth. “Your Highness, the people are angered by the cost of mead. They are offended by the queen’s parties. The pope has more influence than you. Everybody is reading the heretics’ pamphlets. Your stutter is the butt of many rude jokes.” The king didn’t kill the jester. In order to rule more wisely, the king needed the jester’s insights.
Many of today’s elected leaders have no better connection with real people (especially outside their borders) than those “divinely ordained” kings did centuries ago. And while I’m fortunate to have a built-in platform, I believe that any traveler can play jester to their own communities. Whether visiting El Salvador (where people don’t dream of having two cars in every garage), Denmark (where they pay high taxes with high expectations and are satisfied), or Iran (where many willingly compromise their freedom to be ruled by clerics out of fear that otherwise, as they explained to me, their little girls would be raised to be sex toys), any traveler can bring back valuable insights. And, just like those truths were needed in the Middle Ages, this understanding is needed in our age.
Choosing to Travel on Purpose
Ideally, travel broadens our perspectives personally, culturally, and politically. Suddenly, the palette with which we paint the story of our lives has more colors. We realize there are exciting alternatives to the social and community norms that our less-traveled neighbors may never consider. Imagine not knowing you could eat “ethnic.” Imagine suddenly realizing there were different genres of music. Imagine you loved books…and one day the librarian mentioned there was an upstairs.
But you can only reap these rewards of travel if you’re open to them. Watching a dervish whirl can be a cruise-ship entertainment option, or it can be a spiritual awakening. You can travel to relax and have fun. You can travel to learn and broaden your perspective. Or, best of all, you can do both at once. Make a decision that on any trip you take, you’ll make a point to be open to new experiences, seek options that get you out of your comfort zone, and be a cultural chameleon—trying on new ways of looking at things and striving to become a “temporary local.”
Assuming they want to learn, both monks and hedonists can stretch their perspectives through travel. While your choice of destination has a huge impact on the potential for learning, you don’t need to visit refugee camps to gain political insight. With the right approach, meeting people—wh
ether over beer in an Irish pub, while hiking Himalayan ridges, or sharing fashion tips in Iran—can connect you more thoughtfully with our world.
Whether you travel as a monk, a hedonist, or somewhere in between, you can come home better friends with our world.
My best vacations have been both fun and intensely educational. Seeing how smart people overseas come up with fresh new solutions to the same old problems makes me more humble, open to creative solutions, and ready to question traditional ways of thinking. We understand how our worldview is both shaped and limited by our family, friends, media, and cultural environment. We become more able to respectfully coexist with people with different “norms” and values.
Travel challenges truths that we were raised thinking were self-evident and God-given. Leaving home, we learn other people find different truths to be self-evident. We realize that it just makes sense to give everyone a little wiggle room.
Good people have different passions.
Traveling in Bulgaria, you learn that shaking your head “no” means yes, and giving an affirmative nod can mean no. In restaurants in France, many travelers, initially upset that “you can’t even get the bill,” learn that slow service is respectful service—you’ve got the table all night…please take your time. And learning how Atatürk heroically and almost singlehandedly pulled Turkey out of the Middle Ages and into the modern world in the 1920s explains why today’s Turks are quick to see his features in passing clouds.
Traveling thoughtfully, we are inspired by the accomplishments of other people, communities, and nations. And getting away from our home turf and looking back at America from a distant vantage point, we see ourselves as others see us—an enlightening if not always flattering view.
