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The texts we read this semester fell under the wide and vast travel classics umbrella. Differences among them included method of travel (Odysseus’ sea fare versus Ibn Batutta’s terra treks), physical land travelled through (everywhere from the Far East in Marco Polo to the Caribbean New World explored by Columbus), time period (the first century BCE Odyssey to The Tempest, which came over 2000 years later), perspective of travelers (Herodotus’ dry attempt to catalog everything with a versus Cabeza de Vaca’s personal engagement with the reader) and even narrative style (Shakespeare and Homer’s stories versus Marco Polo and Cabeza de Vaca’s first hand accounts). For all the variety found between these travel classics, each contained a sense of wonder, excitement, appreciation and even masked trepidation.

On a personal level, the texts were all about places foreign to me. I have never been to Asia or the Middle East, where Marco Polo and Ibn Battuta respectively travelled. Although I have visited the Mediterranean, Herodotus’ accounts were extremely different from my muddled memory of that culturally and historically rich region. As for Cabeza de Vaca’s relation of the Southeast, the not-yet-trounced terrains of Texas bore no similarity to the (relatively) small Austin, Texas where I lived for two semesters last year. Each of these texts served to preserve not only the place, but also the time of when they were written. It is as though each author metaphorically laminated their experiences and stories, ensuring that today’s reader would be transported to the same time and place as one of their contemporaries.  This led me to assess my own time and place. How would someone—a visitor—record his or her experiences as an outsider in New York City? What would they deem important and what would fall by the editorial wayside? Would they too feel the wonder, excitement, appreciation and trepidation recorded by their travel classics predecessors?

Don't Leave Home Without It!

Given New York City’s role as cultural Mecca (hey, Ibn!) of at least the United States, if not the world, it is constantly being reinterpreted through the eyes of its visitors. I’m ending my blog with a short list of contemporary NYC travel narratives that I’ve compiled which I think provides a thread from all of the works read this semester to my life and those of my classmates. Enjoy!

In Search of Jack Kerouac: New York City in Two Days < by A.E. Sadler. This essay is written very much from the traveler’s perspective as a follower.  He has a sense of many having completed this trek before him. Nonetheless, his experiences contain that same streak of wonder and appreciation.

This Link is a blog by a Student Travel Association named Ady. The city is one of the places he travels too. His travelling intention is primarily leisure-based, and like Sadler it is evident that he has a sense of many people having gone on this same journey before him.

City's Virtues to Be Sold in New Global Ad Campaign < by Patrick McGeehan. This is not an essay. Rather, this piece is an New York Times article from 2007 that chronicles Bloomberg strategy to make the city an enticing place for visitors.

Allow me to preface this blog with a disclaimer: I am no trekkie.

Darth Vader and co.

That said, I apologize in advance if I muddle or blatantly misrelate any points made about Star Trek, Forbidden Planet, or the science fiction genre as a whole. I myself just recently discovered that I was previously misguided in assuming that sci-fi entailed wholly paralleluniverses with little or no intersection with my own. As it turns out, science fiction literature, film and television are highly influenced by Shakespeare, who understood and related through his work a great deal about humanity and the world we inhabit.

In The Tempest, Ariel and Prospero serve as the Shakespearian characters with the most obvious connection to modern science fiction. Although he eventually renounces magic, throughout the play Prospero acts as a commanding sorcerer. His words alone represent magical spells. If Prospero says it—it happens. Prospero even has a magical minion in the form of Ariel. Ariel acts as a supernatural gofer for Prospero and enables Shakespeare to introduce the notion of subordinance and power play in the text. One need only look at the Star Wars series, where Darth Vader’s helmeted white-clad underlings (called storm troopers) patrol his aircraft, to draw a connection between Shakespeare and sci-fi. Both contain striking metaphors about the human condition and the tendency for some to rule over others (Hello, Columbus).

Beyond conveying similar messages, Shakespeare relates to modern science fiction because the former actually influenced much of the ladder. Filmed in 1956, the movie Forbidden Planet serves as a contemporary reinterpretation of The Tempest. Prospero’s island becomes the planet Altair IV circa the future, year 2257. I haven’t seen the film, and thus would feel uncomfortable drawing comparisons. Luckily, in his essay entitled “Shakespeare in Outer Space: Forbidden Planet as an Adaptation of The Tempest,” Miguel Campus has already done so. You can view his work here, pages 285-89.

Forbidden Planet Movie Poster

Just as Forbidden Planet pays homage to The Tempest, the television series Star Trek was highly influenced by Forbidden Planet. True to its routes, Star Trek references Shakespeare throughout its various series, which span from 1961-2001. This website contains an extensive list of allusions to Shakespeare. These range from episode titles to plot lines and direct quotes. The episode called “Emergence” is of particular interest because it is “one of the series' final episodes and the use of the play is seen as an homage, since it is widely believed that The Tempest is Shakespeare's own farewell to the theater.”

Real Life and Star Trek Converge...in England, home of Shakespeare

Scholars squabble over the significance of Shakespearian allusions in modern works. Some, such as English professor, Rebecca Steinberger,argue that “he was a writer for the masses and what he wrote is still relevant 400 years later.” However, others take a more critical stancewhen evaluating Shakespeare in the context of modern media. The above list of Shakespeare references in Star Trek contains criticism fromMarc Houlahan, who asserts that “Shakespeare in Star Trek is not only an endorsement but rather a continuation of America's attempts toAmericanize Shakespeare.” Wherever one falls on the argument of Shakespeare’s place in the modern sci-fi genre, I propose this (basedon the law of transitivity):

If sci-fi alludes to Shakespeare and Shakespeare alludes to real life, then sci-fi alludes to real life.

May the Force be with you.

        Performing the first surgery   Upon coming to North America, Cabeza de Vaca took on many unanticipated roles. Originally, he participated in the excursion as an explorer, along with hundreds of fellow Spanish conquistadores. However, once separated from most of his party, and living amongst the Native Americans, Cabeza de Vaca stepped into various positions including slave and merchant. One of the most interesting capacities Cabeza de Vaca fulfilled was that of healer.

Cabeza de Vaca’s Relación features several references to his healing people. One of the most detailed comes in chapter fifteen. Convinced that he and his companions are powerful men, the Native Americans refuse to give the Spaniards food until they try to heal the sick. Befuddled, the Spaniards make crosses over those who need healing. This practice depicts a strange convergence of European Catholicism with the animistic beliefs of the Native Americans. Cabeza de Vaca’s take on the incident is that it was merely a survival tactic—to get food. Meanwhile, the Native Americans remain convinced that the Spaniards posses special healing powers and feel as though they have been helped.

Modern Day Navajo Medicine Man

          Barley. Yum. In his 2005 USA Today article, author James Reston Jr. calls for a revamp of “the most ignored, the most embarrassing, the least significant of all our national holidays.” Of course, Reston is referring to none other than the second Monday of October: Columbus Day. Prior to reading his history in the The Four Voyages, I had no significant qualm with Columbus, even if he had taken responsibility for “discovering” land that had already been inhabited for centuries. Columbus’ misidentification of the Americas as the Indies came across as a well-intentioned mishap, if anything. However, a repugnant subtext presents itself within the misguided explorer’s narrative.Jared Diamond Doing Fieldwork in New Guinea

            A letter to his peers reveals Columbus’ unscrupulous intentions. Columbus explains that the natives “have no iron or steel or arms and are not capable of using them” (117). Rather then belabor the points that have already been written about how Columbus and his fellow conquistadors went on to decimate the land and its people for centuries to come, I want to look into why the Europeans had such an apparent advantage over the original inhabitants of the Americas.  Enter: Jared Diamond. 

            A professor at UCLA, Diamond won the 1998 Pulitzer prize for general non-fiction for Guns, Germs and Steel: The Fates of Human Societies. The book has since been turned into a National Geographic television series, which can be viewed here. Both the book and its filmed adaptation chronicle why some parts of the world have thrived while others lag behind technologically and become subjected to those that bear greater wealth. Diamond believes that the primary cause between this worldwide discrepancy links back to a single cause, which he calls “geographic luck.”

            In order to reach this explanation, Diamond first examined commonalities between wealthy ancient societies. He found that they all had: advanced technology, large populations and a well-organized workforce. From there, Diamond sought out to determine how these things fell into place and ultimately the difference between what he refers to as “the haves and the have-nots.” Diamond began by contrasting the different sectors of the ancient world that developed farming independent of one another. The biggest distinction between these lands comes down to which crops they grew. In China, it was rice; in Africa: yams; in the Americas: corn, squash and beans; and finally, in the Middle East: wheat and barley.

          Steel Weapons  Wheat and barley put the Middle East at an advantage because they grew easily, could be stored and provided a relatively large amount of protein compared to their crop counterparts. Beyond having a horticultural edge over other regions, the Middle East also had a taxonomic advantage. Diamond constructed a list of hundreds of large, plant eating mammals (those ideal for farming) and found that of those, only fourteen had been successfully domesticated. Of the fourteen, most came from the Eurasian continent. Having animals that could augment the farming process gave the continent a major developmental upper hand. As Diamond says, “[in places like New Guinea,] they never used plows because they didn’t have animals to pull them.”Eurasia: Geographically Lucky

            Greater farm techniques led to a food surplus. Food surpluses prompt societies toward specialization. Specialization leads technological advance, as time can be spent on tasks other than self-subsistence. For the Europeans, this led to advances in steel technology, which are detailed here.

Columbus’ assessment of the natives and their lack of finesse with steel and armament links with his ability to conquer the Americas.  It all goes back to Diamond’s assessment of geographic luck. Diamond came to this conclusion using and interdisciplinary—very Gallatin—method. By tracing the biological and cultural histories of people tens of thousands of years ago, he explains the ease with which Columbus annihilated the original Americans, as well the vast wealth discrepancy that continues to plague today’s world.

            I hate malls. The seemingly artificial air, store after store that sells essentially the same unoriginal merchandise, getting lost in the massive concrete parking lots—it’s an American rite that I’d prefer never to have experienced. If they were around in his day, I’m pretty sure Ibn Battuta would have stayed clear of the shopping netherworlds that have become as much a part of our country’s landscape as purple mountain majesties and amber waves of grain. Thus, you can imagine my disgust upon discovering...get ready…Ibn Battuta Mall. 

            Located in Dubai, Ibn Battuta Mall is, according the website, “the world’s largest themed shopping mall…[with an] exciting mix of over 275 retailers, 50 restaurants and food outlets, 21 cinema screens including the UAE’s only IMAX theatre.”

            I thought Roosevelt Field was impressive. To say that Ibn Battuta Mall is just a mall would be a flagrant understatement. The map on the mall’s website resembles that of a multi-terminal airport. Each color-coated section represents a portion of Ibn Battuta’s travels. These include: China, India, Persia, Egypt, Tunisia and Andalusia.  The Ibn Battuta theme presents itself in the educational exhibits in each section of the mall. For example, entering the Persian sector evokes a feeling of standing in the buzzing bazaar of a Muslim town. The geometric shapes and arches serve to give viewers—ahem, shoppers—a sense of ancient architecture from the comfort of an overly air-conditioned shopping complex. The Chinese sector includes a Junk, a replica of the type of boat Ibn Battuta would have sailed on to China.

Starbucks in the Persian Sector

            So, okay, Ibn Battuta Mall includes some educational substance, “exhibitions” if you will, surrounding the historical figure around which it gets its name. Nonetheless, I cannot get over the irony of this mall. Based on the Anglo-looking blondes that grace its website, the shopping center probably caters mostly to Western tourists, rather than local inhabitants. This begs the question: what could be more touristy than a mall? Ibn Battuta was far from a tourist. He was a traveler.

            Ibn Battuta Mall also presents the irony of the anti-American Middle East’s finding that the best way to compete economically is via an institution of wholly American origin: consumerism. The mall, with its mini exhibitions amidst hundreds of stores and greasy dining options bears unsettling parallel with the Epcot Theme Park and its World Showcase area. Both the mall and Epcot are designed to entice consumers into shopping while providing a front that they are really there for a fun educational adventure. Its similarity to Epcot also makes it easy to look at Ibn Battuta Mall and determine that there it is again: globalization.

Epcot's rendition of China

            Ibn Battuta, along with Marco Polo, Herodotus and Homer, proves that globalization is not the new phenomenon that people so often consider it. Ibn Battuta, along with the other travelers studied so far, shows that human contact and interaction has been around for centuries. Ibn Battuta Mall and the ironies it presents serve as evidence of the interconnectedness of today’s world with that of the past. 

This kindergartner performs the classic experiment with the addition of syrup as an extra layer

Just about every third grader in America has done it.

Take equal parts oil and water; pour each into a clear jar and shake. Initially, small droplets of oil gather at the top. Within an hour, the oil and water will have separated. Besides indicating differences between the molecular properties of the two compounds, the simple experiment also symbolically elucidates the two greatest struggles worldwide: one for oil and the other for water.

In Marco Polo's travel narrative, water is a key element of the storyline. When war between “certain kings of the Tartars” breaks out and disrupts land travel, the Great Kubilai Khan enlists Marco Polo and co. to escort the Lord of Levant’s new wife via sea. Marco Polo’s journey, as well as just about any travel narrative worth telling, takes on more legs than originally planned. The map below shows what a significant portion of his travel took place by means of ship.

Marco Polo's Journey

During the portion of his journey through the Middle East, Marco Polo was one of the first to make record of the region’s (now waning) oil reserves. In awe, he noted: “Near the Georgian border there is a spring from which gushes a stream of oil, in such abundance that a hundred ships may load there at once…Men come from a long distance to fetch this oil.”

An eerie chill ran through me as I read this passage. It seems as though not much has changed; today, men still come from a long distance to retrieve this oil. However, today’s oil trade comes in the midst of growing concerns over the scarcity of our most luxurious natural resource and the massive fighting that has resulted from said limited supply in recent years (America’s two latest wars: the Gulf and Iraq). Surely, Marco Polo had no sense of the gravity of what he was recording and its ongoing significance to future generations. A timeline of important events to the world petroleum industry includes Marco Polo’s reference (as well as one made by Herodotus!).

tan=limited/no groundwater, green=moderately productive aquifer, navy=highly productive aquifer, red=oil or gas field

Although less mentioned in the nightly American news broadcasts, water--or lack thereof--serves as an equally noteworthy topic in studying the region that intrigued Marco Polo centuries ago. The map on the left highlights the Middle East's limited freshwater repository (Abu Dhabi is also featured on the map, in case anyone’s still wondering as to the location of our controversial future sister-campus). Clearly, its dwindling oil supply is just one of the problems that the Middle East faces in upcoming decades. The National Geographic website, where I found the map, has a brief description of it that ominously concludes: “Without oil, the Middle East cannot live well; without water it cannot live.” 

As phrases like “our planet is in peril” become commonplace, Marco Polo’s travels seem even more relevant. In them, we can trace the history of our mistakes—mindlessly abstracting and using as much oil as possible—as well as the ongoing pertinence of the natural resources that shape life in the twenty-first century.

the sun

The over-used, seemingly trite phrase, “there is nothing new under the sun,” comes from Ecclesiastes, part of the Old Testament. Originally, according to the Talmud, as well as Wikipedia, the future idiom was meant to convey that nothing important exists below the sun. Thus, one’s focus should go above the sun and toward god. These days, “there is nothing new under the sun” has come to indicate the cyclic nature of humanity and a lack of truly innovative thought. Knighted by Cicero as the father of History, Herodutus defies today’s commonplace understanding of the phrase “there is nothing new under the sun.”

Centuries before John McCain and Sarah Palin, his yes-woman from Alaska, began touting themselves as it, Herodutus had already embodied the ‘maverick’ moniker. Remarkably, at a time when most of his fellow Grecians failed to travel beyond the confinements of city-state of origin, Herodotus traveled throughout an roughly 1700 square-mile terrain. These travels were non-sequential and spaced out over an estimated seventeen-year timeslot, beginning when Herodotus was just twenty-years-old—the approximate age of any member of this class. Although probably still fresh in people’s minds from the recent election, a ‘maverick’ is, according to Merriam-Webster’s Dictionary, “an unorthodox or independent-minded person.” His travels alone make Herodotus an original thinker within Ancient Greece, whereas the record of his expeditions makes him a maverick of human history.

Disturbingly, the texts that designate Herodotus as exceptional also contribute to mass criticism surrounding the father of History. Daniel Mendlsohn’s trivalizing New Yorker piece “Arms and the Man,” only skims the surface of arguments that demerit Herodotus. A quick (totally unscientific) skim of Google search results for “Herodotus review” yielded generally unfavorable reviews of the father of History, while most of the class’ blogs posted up until this point feature some unfavorable critique.

Although his work may not rank high for its historical accuracy, given his limited resources, Herodotus deserves utmost regard and praise. Herodotus’ historical accounts were made without the tools that modern day historical anthropologists have come to rely. Herodotus lacked easy access to the gargantuan of previously obtained information via libraries and the Internet that any modern day field worker would use to gain a point of reference for framing their work. Furthermore, the historians of the age directly after Herodotus would have had no work to base their own findings off of. Indeed, the more highly regarded historian Thucydides, supposedly found his own affinity for history while attending one of Herodotus’ lectures as a child. Without Herodotus as inspiration, Thucydides may have never found his aptitude as a historical documentarian and humanity would have had to possibly wait centuries more before recording historical events. Thus, any history today can somehow be attributed to Herodotus—a maverick who defies the modern day idiom that stems from Ecclesiastes.

These days, there may be nothing new under the sun. However, in the mid-fourth century B.C.E., there was a man named Herodotus, and he definitely defied that overused maxim.