Clusters of Moments: Creating space around travel experiences…

The suitcases are stacked away, travel clothes are put away… I continue to sort things – in my head – about travel in general. I continue to write about it.

Here… let me take you on a travel-planning tour… ahem…inside my head. A germ of an idea settles in. The squiggly thing worms around causing sizable neural sparks. Each time a new possibility hits the neural pathway – be it a possible destination, a historical fact, a monument, a museum, a local delicacy… the lightening along the neural network is dazzling. Or so I imagine it must be.

Yes. I stare wide-eyed at pictures, hold my breath as I read about places, squint at images – nose sticking into computer, stroke magazine pages with amazement, wonder and optimism.

I believe many of us do so in the planning process. Then of course, is the matter of gathering poise and composure and sharing details nonchalantly with the spouse. Admittedly, in the last decade, my plans have been a lot less adventurous and his apprehension lower, questions fewer. But we can save that for another blogpost.

Let’s blame it on the cynicism of age and dwindling of spirit, but I now wonder if the daydreaming and excitement over an upcoming trip, may be the best part of the travel experience.

For in that moment is the sweet knowledge that this will soon be reality. Yet, in that moment, there is no interference from flight delays and dusty roads, and stomach bugs. In that moment, there is no exhaustion from staring at things – no matter how wonderful they may be.

Is there truly such a thing as too much of a good thing? Can there be actual fatigue from taking in too much art, too much history, too much architecture?
Is this all a case of sour grapes – as I find myself more exhausted when I travel? Or old age? Perhaps.

Why then, when I think of the Louvre in Paris, do I think fondly of the café au lait in a tiny café in the adjoining alley? Did I get weary looking at all the art and wonder in the museum? So much so, that rather than Mona Lisa’s smile, I remember my own - filled with satisfaction, sipping the café au lait?

Why then, when I think of the Sistine Chapel, do I think of a to-die-for gelato and a silly salad comprising only roasted peppers that I got, thanks to bad translation? Despite all the wonder, did I get tired of standing in lines and craning my neck, until a wall of humanity pushed me away from beneath Michelangelo’s fresco?

Why then, when I think of the Rialto bridge in Venice, do I think of a tiny sandwich shop crammed with people? The owner spoke little or no English. Nor did he have time to try and explain. It smelt wonderful in there and apparently, by the crowds filled in the tiny space, the small sandwiches waiting patiently behind glass cases were pieces of art. They were.

We will never know for sure what we ate. But we polished off every last crumb in wonder, and laughed as we almost spat out one – evidently, we had not acquired the taste for whatever it was inside the sandwich requiring an acquired taste.

Clearly, I seem to have no taste for art, history or architecture and can think only of coffee and ice-cream and silly salads, and sandwiches with who-knows-what in them. Sigh… yet the person planning the trip, excitedly jotting down possible destinations - picking, choosing, discarding places is doing so based on art, architecture, history and not gelatos or makhanlal’s lassi in the heart of Jodhpur’s old city in Rajasthan (which by the way, needs its own post).

Does a certain saturation set in our mind and our eyes from too much of a good thing? Of staring at things and reading historical factoids, one after another. And no matter how beautiful, does a certain exhaustion creep in?

Take our recent trip to Rajasthan. We stare in awe at palaces and marble structures, chiseled temples and monuments – so much art, so much history, so much wonder… Why then, do pictures progressively decline as we move from day 1 to day 7? I look for pictures of the City palace in Udaipur – I find only a handful, I find fewer that seemed to be clicked with care. Hmm… dusty, hot, tired and ah… right after that delicious traditional lunch we had in the… okay okay…

Not to reveal apparent gaucherie and gluttony in wake of famous, awe inspiring art and history, but does a been-there-done-that mentality creep in as we join the hordes that explore the palace in Udaipur? The palace can be explored only in one direction -- the hallways are tiny, ceilings are low, crowds are plenty. There is boredom in my daughter’s eyes as we look at opulent remnants of bygone times. We seem to politely click pictures for it is beautiful and we know it, yet, we walk with a quickened pace and there is relief on my kid’s face, once we're outside - in the sunshine, away from the opulence.

A series of doors remarkably aligned that they look like framed mirrors
Now only if I had actually stopped walking and taken a good pictures ~City Palace, Udaipur

Like any framed artwork which shows better with some blank space around it, do my travel experiences need moments of vacant spaces around them to appreciate them better? Do the café au lait and gelato constitute that empty space?

Perhaps it is in these moments of rest – of gelatos and lassis, and unpronounceable salads and sandwiches, that we catch our breath – away from the spectacular wonder. And perhaps, these moments filled with rest and tired and empty staring, add spots of vacant mental gaps and a certain space around everything the eyes and minds and soul have experienced.

A little empty background that allows the wonder to stick out.