Excerpts taken from “1,000 Place To See Before You Die”. The Story of This Book
- Is it nature or nurture that sends a person out onto the Road—that whispers in ...
1000 Places To See Before You Die CGG3OR Travel & Tourism
Excerpts taken from “1,000 Place To See Before You Die”
The Story of This Book - Is it nature or nurture that sends a person out onto the Road—that whispers in one’s ear that it’s time to take off and make for the horizon, just to see what’s out there? The urge to travel—to open our minds and move beyond the familiar—is as old as man himself. It’s what drove the ancient Romans to visit Athens’s Acropolis and Verona’s amphitheater. It’s what sent Marco Polo off on his momentous journey east, and what moved St. Augustine to write, “The world is a book, and those who do not travel, read only one page.” Whether we go to London for the weekend or to a place that’s utterly alien, travel changes us, sometimes superficially, sometimes profoundly. It is a classroom without walls. 1,000 Places to See Before You Die is my own personal short list of dream trips. While the number daunted me at first, I came to realize there were a thousand times a thousand possibilities. . . . Perhaps I’ll save them for a sequel, or for another life. Not every entry is for everybody, but show me someone who won’t find enough between these two covers to keep busy for the next few decades. Never a travel snob, I confess I’ve never understood the appeal of certain must-do’s (though I’ve happily included them), like playing the finest golf courses in Scotland or going bungee-jumping in New Zealand, but these activities may well figure into your own game plan. I know I’ll raise eyebrows by including unconventional destinations such as Calcutta and Madagascar, arduous choices that some travelers might avoid, but I consider them deeply moving and insightful windows into the human experience. The same goes for Chicago’s landmark Superdawg hot dog stand, whose inclusion will be questioned only by those who have never been there. In the seven years it took me to research and write this formidable project, I was reminded time and again that travel is always personal, and that no two people walk away from the same experience with the same memories. What it came down to, in the end, is that each of the places in this book is truly, completely, and undeniably inspiring— through the ages or to the modern world—often both—to the simply curious traveler as well as to poets, adventurers, painters, pilgrims, scholars, and travel writers. In the final analysis, the common denominator I chose was a simple one: that each place impress upon the visitor— and, I hope, upon the reader— some sense of the earth’s magic, integrity, wonder, and legacy. That was the standard I applied, across every continent, from the conspicuous and predictable to the small and humble, from spiritual spots like Bagan in Myanmar to temporal ones like Hong Kong’s shopping districts, from natural wonders like the Grand Canyon to manmade ones like Petra, Jordan’s fabled “lost city”—life experiences all. “Travel,” wrote Mark Twain, “is fatal to prejudice, bigotry and narrow mindedness, and many of our people need it sorely on these accounts.” Travel dispels many of our bad impressions, confirms the positive, and promises innumerable surprises. It opens our eyes to exotic places like Zanzibar, Katmandu, Machu Picchu, and Lalibela— names familiar to us through films, books, and tales, but whose reality is so much more than they could ever explain. In the flesh, it shows us why even the most clichéd travel experiences— riding a gondola in Venice, taking a Turkish bath in Turkey, braving Times Square on New Year’s Eve—are perennially popular. With travel, our minds become more curious, our hearts more powerful, and our spirits more joyous. And once the mind is stretched like that, it can never return to its original state.
The world today is a smaller place than it was even twenty years ago, and while the romantic concept of Ultima Thule—what Webster’s describes as “any far-off, unknown region”—may still be found in the otherworldly landscapes of Namibia, and the Himalayan kingdom of Bhutan, the fact remains that these places all lie only a day or two’s journey away, thanks to today’s monumental travel infrastructure. What does this do to our sense of adventure, of exploring the Other? For me, it comes down to a matter of viewpoint: As the Sherpa said to Edmund Hillary on the slopes of Mount Everest, some people travel only to look, while others come to see. Some road warriors can speed from New York to L.A. without registering a thing; I can walk around my mid-Manhattan block and come home with a carton of milk and stories to tell. In the end, the number of miles covered has nothing to do with the real pleasures of travel; the inherent beauty of the world and the discovery it promises are all around us. In this time of global uncertainty, even the intrepid might feel inclined to stick closer to home base, or to retreat into armchair travel—and even this can be rewarding. I can shut my eyes and hear the sound of loons again on Squam Lake, or the flutter of prayer flags outside a Tibetan monastery in Llasa. I can smell the spices of the market in the ancient medina of Fez, or the floating aroma of fritto misto in the cobbled backstreets of an Italian Riviera village. This is my moveable feast, the memories that sustain me until my next ticket is in hand, my next Great Adventure about to begin. The number of hotels I’ve included might also need a brief explanation. A longtime hotel buff, my opinion about cities both large and small is always greatly influenced by where I hang my hat and unpack my bag. Can one even think of visiting London without enjoying high tea at the Ritz? Or, when in Singapore, having a Singapore Sling where it originated, at the legendary Raffles Hotel? Isn’t Singita safari lodge on the periphery of Kruger National Park as inspirational as the game viewing? And isn’t Sweden’s Ice Hotel the ultimate hoot? Other unforgettable memories I have not been able to re-create for this book, like the day my driver in Casablanca took me to his mother’s home for Saturday lunch when I asked him who served the best couscous in town, or the time I somehow became the guest of honor at a stranger’s four day wedding celebration in Cairo. From experiences like these I learned that camel meat’s not bad, and serendipity really is the best tour guide. Any trip can be fraught with disappointment: Expectations are always high, and anything can go wrong. Here are a few suggestions for both first-time and inveterate travelers: More important than packing a bag full of money, pack a bag full of patience and curiosity; allow yourself—encourage yourself—to be sidetracked and to get lost. There’s no such thing as a bad trip, just good travel stories to tell back home. Always travel with a smile and remember that you’re the one with the strange customs visiting someone else’s country. Relying on the kindness of strangers isn’t naive—there are good people wherever you go. And, finally, the more time you spend coming to understand the ways of others, the more you’ll understand yourself. The journey abroad reflects the one within—the most unknown and foreign and unmapped landscape of them all, the ultimate terra incognita. As Mr. Twain said, “Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things you didn’t do than by the ones you did. So throw off the bowlines. Sail away from the safe harbor. Catch the trade winds in your sails. Explore. Dream. Discover.”
1000 questions to answer before you are done…just kidding! There are only 3! 1. Why does travelling change a person? Use at least two passages from this reading to explain your answer. 2.
What does the author mean when she states “The world today is a smaller place than it was even twenty years ago?”
3. What travel advice does the author offer to ensure a successful trip?
