How do we stay positive when we travel? We’ve all been there. The flight gets cancelled, the accommodation is unavailable, the unexpected happens. We experience frustration – often magnified when we travel, perhaps compounded by language difficulties and cultural differences. What happens next is up to us.
Tourists demand, pilgrims are grateful
There is a saying I heard from fellow pilgrims on the Camino de Santiago, along the lines of: “Tourists demand, pilgrims are grateful.” And I think that’s worth exploring a little further. For me, it relates to the idea of expectations. We anticipate our holiday, We see photos on Pinterest or Instagram of our desired destination, and we read the Trip Adviser reviews, that give our dream destination five stars. By the time we board our plane, train or bus, we have already travelled to our destination in our minds, we have pictured the perfect weather, the fantastic view from the hotel, and of course, we are in the pleasant company of young happy fellow tourists.
With such expectations, we are rarely reaching into the unknown, and we pay good money to have a good time – hard earned by an exchange of time and effort out of our finite lives. So we feel entitled to have a good time, and we’ll stamp our feet if we don’t!
But the reality of our holiday might look a bit different. That beachfront hotel that looked idyllic until the tide came into the room (yes it happened). The quaint French hotel is being renovated around you (also happened), and the room looks out over the gas works (actually just a brick wall). Our fellow tourists raise a chorus of complaints as they realise that the place is just a bit more squalid than the brochures led us to believe.
With such thwarted expectations, our holiday seems doomed to failure. For this reason, the philosopher Alain de Botton advises that we might be better off if we were pessimists. That way, we won’t expect too much, and we’ll feel relieved that the experience was perhaps not so bad as it might have been. He argues that we should heed the call of the Roman Stoic philosopher Seneca, who suggests that we must keep in mind at all times the worst case scenario. Seneca warned that all versions of our experience are possible, and therefore we should not be surprised when our worst fears are fulfilled, as he says: “Do you think there is anything that will not happen, when you know that it is possible to happen, when you see that it has already happened?”
But what if there was a more positive way to approach travel? The pilgrims I met on the Camino were not pessimists. Neither were they overly optimistic, but they were positive. What is it that was different among the pilgrims, as opposed to other travellers? Let’s return for a moment to the pilgrim saying – tourists demand, pilgrims are grateful. They trudge for days or weeks through mud and rough tracks, yet are still able to stand in awe of a medieval cathedral or a simple sunrise. What did I learn from being a pilgrim?
Firstly, while each is on a personal journey, they look out for others. It is not about ‘me’, it is about the journey we are all on. Secondly, although each has done their research, and seen the photos, and read the accounts of others’ journeys, it is without too many expectations. This is about mindfulness, experiencing that moment across each moment of each day. And remember, each day is its own journey. Pilgrims recognise that if their phone charger breaks, or the plumbing gives hot water from the cold tap and vice versa, all these are first-world problems. Pilgrims feel privileged to be on the journey. Being mindful means that you take things as you find them. Each day is different, and each day we are alive beats the alternative. It is about experiencing the strange, whether it is unfamiliar foods, or the struggle to communicate in a foreign language, or the daily battle with blisters or the weather. Each day brings a new joy, a new taste, a new connection with someone. Above all, a new focus for our attention.
Pack a light heart and the rest will follow
Another pilgrim saying is: “the weight of your pack is the sum of your fears”. I reckon that’s pretty well spot on. We try to anticipate everything that could go wrong, and pack accordingly. Often I went on business trips carrying a travel iron – just in case – but the reality is that hotels have irons, or you can use clothes that don’t require ironing, or you can improvise (hint: hang them in the bathroom while you shower, and roll rather than fold your clothes). The iron was a symbol of my fear.
These days, I try to sort those fears into first world problems and real problems. And I have halved the weight. I can travel for several days with just a carry-on bag. I plan clothing for layers, carry enough underwear for 3-4 days, a notebook, pen and minimal tech and travel docs. If I’m hosteling then a small travel towel goes in, and for weather, it’s a jacket and/or hat. Research the destination, and go. I’ve rarely missed something I’ve forgotten, and if I do, I try not to beat myself up over it – I can always buy another toothbrush!
You can be part of a virtuous circle.
It can seem natural to join in when someone complains, and in the process, it feels like you are being part of the tribe. You get validation, perhaps sympathy – especially if your story of woe can top that of the previous speaker. But consider for a moment, whether you want to remember that experience with such negativity, or perhaps there is a more positive way to see things – a different part of the experience on which to focus our attention.
Perhaps others try to put you down or better your epic survival story about the local sanitation, with a story with their own? The best response is to thank them and smile – often other people’s put-downs or one-downmanship are a sign of their own childish fear and insecurity and have nothing to do with your experience. They will quickly forget you, and you don’t need to carry their burden as your own. It is, after all, their monkey and theirs alone.
And if it’s a local having a bad day – perhaps they’ve seen one too many complaining tourist – and at the end of the day, I do get to go home, while the locals deal with x every day. I always try to remember that there is a lot to be grateful for – such as the privilege we have to travel, the privilege we have that we can choose to go home if we want to, or to find another place. Or even just hold that thought, and pause before stoking the fire of negativity. We don’t always have to be happy, but we can be positive. If we travel gratefully, like the pilgrims, and with a light heart, our own journey will be lighter – and our packs too!
Seoul is a city of contrasts – traditional and modern. The spicy food aroma attracts you from afar and lures you into another world. It is a world of street markets and traditional vendors plying their trade, in many cases for generations. Why not join me as I explore the Insadong district of Seoul.
Just off the main streets, we can explore a maze of back alleys filled with street traders. In the distance, you can still hear the hum of the traffic, but muted now, and another sound emerges – the sound of pots and pans and food vendors and spruikers. Here, you can see an old man with a knife sharpening stall on a cart
The variety of goods available was breathtaking. For example, there were hat sellers with every style you could think of, including traditional Korean style hats that resembled horse riding helmets, through to berets and dress hats of every description. Even trilby-style hats and sun hats of every description
The toy maker was a delight – with many automata and whirligigs along with traditional spinning tops and puppets all carved from wood and delightfully painted. Some were whimsical, like the flying pigs, and others had a more steampunk flavour – such as this whirligig flying boat. There were dolls and maniquins, small planes from a bygone era, and animals, each ornately and skillfully carved.
And they were there day and night. Of course, all this power shopping is enough to make anyone hungry. Perhaps you fancy something from the plethora of street food vendors? You can find everything from eggs on toast to traditional Korean noodles – you name it and it’s here. And it not only smells mouth-wateringly delicious, but it is cooked right in front of you so you know it’s fresh.
The markets start in the late morning and go through to around 10.00pm – and these run across several streets and laneways. While you can always shop in the main Western stores, you have to head to the back streets for the interesting stuff, like these garden ornaments
There is certainly something for everyone here, and we found Seoul to be a very safe city to walk around in – even at night. There are direct flights from Australia, Europe and USA. Don’t forget to greet people with a friendly “Anyong haseyo” (hello [literally are you at peace?]). And say ‘thank you’ with “Kam samnida” – and always with a smile 🙂 It will go a long way to show that you respect their country and the people. Enjoy!
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Ever wanted to put yourself in the picture? It was evening and the sky was precisely the deep Prussian Blue that Van Gogh portrayed in his painting of “the Café Terrace at Night”. The lights under the awning reflected warmly in the wine glasses as we toasted our meal and our time in Province. It was Autumn in Arles, and the smell of lavender mingled with the delicious food smells. It hadn’t changed much since Vincent (yes we’re on first name terms now) painted the café at around the same time of year in 1888.
In those days, the café terrace was lit by gas lamps beneath the awning, as the evening brought out the vibrant stars. Van Gogh did the painting as a companion piece to his Night Café in which he depicted the interior of this same cafe.
Van Gogh wrote about this painting to his sister Willemien Van Gogh on 14 September 1888:
“I was interrupted precisely by the work that a new painting of the outside of a café in the evening has been giving me these past few days. On the terrace, there are little figures of people drinking. A huge yellow lantern lights the terrace, the façade, the pavement, and even projects light over the cobblestones of the street, which takes on a violet-pink tinge. The gables of the houses on a street that leads away under the blue sky studded with stars are dark blue or violet, with a green tree. Now there’s a painting of night without black. With nothing but beautiful blue, violet and green, and in these surroundings the lighted square is coloured pale sulphur, lemon green.12 I enormously enjoy painting on the spot at night. In the past they used to draw, and paint the picture from the drawing in the daytime. But I find that it suits me to paint the thing straightaway. It’s quite true that I may take a blue for a green in the dark, a blue lilac for a pink lilac, since you can’t make out the nature of the tone clearly. But it’s the only way of getting away from the conventional black night with a poor, pallid and whitish light, while in fact a mere candle by itself gives us the richest yellows and oranges.”
– [Source: www.vangoghletters.org].
There were other cafés nearby on the plaza that once formed part of the Roman Forum here, and over the ten days we stayed there, we sampled most of them. Here, the steak was tasty and the Beaujolais formed the perfect accompaniment, along with the traditional baguette. A cool wind blew, but we didn’t mind. The occasional scooter clattered past on the cobble stones – damp after a recent shower – leaving an oily smoke in its wake. It is a real place. Yet somehow the damp ground added vibrancy to the colours, rendering the scene more painterly. I can see why he chose this town, this part of the south of France. It is the light.
[source: photographed by me from a print erected at the spot from which he painted the cafe.]
The cafe itself – as you can see – is still there on the Place du Forum in Arles, just down the road from the Roman Amphitheatre which is still in use today for concerts and bull fights. Sharon and I had a wonderful dinner there – very French – with a nice carafe of wine. It was a magic evening 🙂
As for the actual painting? You can find Café Terrace at Night on display at the Kröller-Müller Museum in Otterlo, Netherlands.