(I've been trying to insert the picture, but I can't seem to. For what it's worth ... the image is linked here)

Here’s the passage I’m focusing on:

<< During my stay at Alexandria I had heard of the pious Shaykh al-Murshidi, who bestowed gifts miraculously created at his desire. He lived in solitary retreat in a cell in the country where he was visited by princes and ministers. Parties of men in all ranks of life used to come to him every day and he would supply them all with food. Each one of them would desire to eat some flesh or fruit or sweetmeat at his cell, and to each he would give what he had suggested, though it was frequently out of season. His fame was carried from mouth to mouth far and wide, and the Sultan too had visited him several times in his retreat. I set out from Alexandria to seek this shaykh and passing through Damanhur came to Fawwa [Fua], a beautiful township, close by which, separated from it by a canal, lies the shaykh's cell. I reached this cell about mid-afternoon, and on saluting the shaykh I found that he had with him one of the sultan's aides-de-camp, who had encamped with his troops just outside. The shaykh rose and embraced me, and calling for food invited me to eat. When the hour of the afternoon prayer arrived he set me in front as prayer-leader, and did the same on every occasion when we were together at the times of prayer during my stay. When I wished to sleep he said to me "Go up to the roof of the cell and sleep there " (this was during the summer heats). I said to the officer "In the name of God," but he replied [quoting from the Koran] "There is none of us but has an appointed place." So I mounted to the roof and found there a straw mattress and a leather mat, a water vessel for ritual ablutions, a jar of water and a drinking cup, and I lay down there to sleep.>>

One of the reasons I'm focusing on this passage is because most of the gifts al-Murshidi gives are food and food is my concentration. But also the passage is interesting on its own.

"At the end of part one of Ibn Battuta's travels, he visits Alexandria and is fascinated. He meets many men throughout his journeys with special powers or gifts; in Alexandria he meets a man who has essentially the power to give whatever the receiver needs.

This man — "the pious Shaykh al-Murshidi" bestows "gifts miraculously created at his desire" to those who visit him.

One of the reasons I'm focusing on this passage is because most of the gifts al-Murshidi gives are food and food is my concentration. But also the passage is interesting on its own.

The man can give gifts that can't be found elsewhere; gifts of foods "frequently out of season" or difficult to find. This in itself is astounding; he’s a chef’s dream.

Poor men aren't the only ones to visit him, as one might assume. "Parties of men in all ranks of life used to come to him every day and he would supply them all with food." Here is what I don't understand — why was it necessary for men who were wealthy or upper-class citizens to come visit al-Murshidi? It's almost as if he was the town farmer who created everything at his whim. And this would seem to probably make a town collapse; if no one has to work to produce food (a major reason to work) then why would they. Why would they bother creating their own food if they can just get it from al-Murshidi? It would seem to create laziness; although he is spreading religious gospel in a way when they come visit him, this hardly seems payment for the food they get from him.

What else is interesting: The men visit al-Murshidi, sometimes every day, without ever giving him something in return. It's hard to imagine that a person could be so selfless without making Biblical comparisons. And Ibn Battuta calls al-Murshidi the "pious" man he has heard so much about all around Alexandria, and calls his actions "miraculous." This is almost Jesus-like: The men ask and then receive.

Considering both that the food is unattainable otherwise, and that al-Murshidi acts in a somewhat Jesus-like way, the man's existence is questionable. What does this man's story say for the veracity of all of Ibn Battuta's stories? al-Murshidi's tale is too hard to believe. Why would there have been any hunger at all? And it seems unreal that even the most pious and religious man could have given whenever — would have given whenever. al-Murshidi never denies, at least not in the story. Why not? Even the most religious, the most pious man would seemingly ask something in return.

I know I’m probably looking too deeply at this, but how very strange (and the passage reminded me so much of all of our veracity discussions in class).

chicken soup

As is quite obvious, my experience with this class has been a little bit more drawn out than others.  I’ve taken my sweet time to get to this final thoughts entry.  Can I make a corny joke here about how it’s the journey and not the destination? 

Even though the class has been “over” for quite a while, “travel” has not been far from my mind.  Rapidly approaching graduation, friends going back to their home states, the famous post-grad Euro trip—all have been very in my face and hard to ignore.  For the most part, I’m quite jealous of all of these people I know that get to go to these far off places.  I’ll be stuck here in NJ, looking for a job and wondering what happened to that great big adventure that I planned on having.  I know that my travel story isn’t over yet, though, that there are still many years left in my life and lots of places to fill them with.  Until then, however, the urge will keep pulling at my heartstrings and I’ll feel shackled by the desire to wander but the reality of having to stay here.

As I’ve said in most of my previous posts, I completely understand why someone might want to get away.  There is always something out there to chase—the unknown, the greener grass on the other side, or that better tasting fruit.  Ibn Battuta couldn’t help but feel like Morocco wasn’t cutting it.  Cabeza de Vaca’s career was built out of finding new places.  Herodotus and Marco Polo wondered about other cultures, a curiosity that could only be satisfied by seeing them with one’s own eyes.  And Columbus was in search of gold and fame.  While I know that my experience of travel would most definitely be quite different than our heroes of centuries past, I’d like to know what it’s like to feel uncomfortable, to fall asleep in a land where I know completely no one, and to wake up knowing that I’m already late for my next destination.  Is it selfish to want to leave the comforts (and I emphasize comfort) of home for uncertainty?  I guess this metaphor of travel (is it a metaphor?) can be applied to any big decision we make in life—whether or not we stay in a relationship, where we choose to go to law school or art school, or whether we go for a sedan or a motorcycle.  Maybe I’m getting too Chicken Soup for the Soul here, but what this class and all of these books have made me realize is that life is too short to just spend it all in one place, or spend it all living the same identity every single day of your life.

Travel means to me the ability and idea of being someone else, being uncomfortable in your own skin, learning a different subway map, or speaking a new language.  It isn’t just getting on a plane; it’s what you do when you get there.  It isn’t just eating new food; it’s eating it with new friends.  (Ok, I’m definitely getting too new age here…)  I guess maybe all of our heroes traveled because they weren’t happy with their life’s story.  This has gotten very stream of consciousness, but the bottom line is: I feel inspired.  I wish I could make more of an analysis of what these books did for culture, how they made me feel about my womanhood, or what implications they might have in the literary world, but the truth is, my final thoughts are more like final feelings. With the exception of Christopher Columbus, I really look up to and admire our travelers.  They saw the value in feeling uncomfortable, and I think I’ve got to see that for myself too. 

syc: trap'd in a tree

I have always been fascinated by magic.  In fifth grade, when others did presentations on their trips to Medieval Times, I tried homemade alchemy.  My mother unsuccessfully attempted to dissuade me from my efforts, but I was fairly certain I could turn flour into gold.  (I had just seen the “critically acclaimed” A Kid in King Arthur’s Court).  10 years of Fox “Behind the Illusion” or whatever they’re called television specials later, I realize that magic, for the most part is truly just sleight of hand, trickery while we’re not looking, and special effects.  In spite of my enlightenment, however, I still love a good old magic story.  Perhaps this is why I liked The Tempest so much.  While of course I was interested in the racial undertones, themes of the “other,” allusions to feminism and even class relations, I was most excited by Prospero’s ability to make his surroundings do whatever he wanted.  Simple excitement, aside, however, I think that further investigation of the theme of magic in The Tempest might be more intellectually potent than meets the eye.  If I remember correctly, alchemy, magic, and all that Merlin type goodness was for the most part, frowned upon back in the day.  Why, just across the pond, and about 100 years after Shakespeare wrote this play, supposed witches were getting burned at the stake for dancing around boiling pots of goo.  It only stands to reason that magic would be a controversial subject for the people of Shakespeare’s time too.  So, why is it that Prospero was not looked upon as a silly character, but rather, as one who evokes sympathy, and even some respect?

            Like all things in life, there seem to be two different sides to this magic story: the rational and the irrational.  In The Tempest, we see two different types of magic.   Prospero represents the rational, gentrified side of magic.  He is not a purveyor of voodoo, he does not dance around fires, and he does not wear a tall, pointy hat. Rather, Prospero is a gentrified nobleman—a man who cared more to study than to rule and who used his intelligence to divine authority over the nature around him.  Shakespeare contrasts Prospero’s rationality with the unkempt and uncivilized nature of Sycorax.  While we do not even meet her, we know that she is a witch of the wild who cruelly trapped Ariel in a tree and gave birth to a rapist son.  Of course this difference in rationality between the warlock and the witch might be quite obvious—for one, quite simply, Prospero is a man and Sycorax is a woman.  In earlier stories we read in this class, women, especially magical ones are quite dangerous. Remember Circe or the Sirens?   In fact, Sycorax’s cruel treatment of Ariel is entirely reminiscent of Circe’s illogical transformation of Odysseus’s men into pigs.  Like a lot of women in literature written by men, Sycorax is just another broad who can’t control her emotions.  Also, if my research is correct, some scholars claim that Sycorax, in addition to being a woman, she is banished from Algiers, implying that she is also Black--yet another reason why she might be “rationally inferior” to the educated, noble Prospero.

             So, what have I learned from examining the foil relationship between Prospero and Sycorax?  Well, just writing this has made me agree even more with scholars that say that Sycorax can be seen as a symbol for the silenced ethnic woman.  As one ethnic woman, myself, I feel that I must side with Sycorax.  She is just a victim of her circumstantial absence from the play, and severely misunderstood.  My newfound sympathy for Sycorax hasn’t made me feel any ill will towards Prospero, however.  I just see them as more or less the same.  Both banished, both alone and misunderstood, and both somehow controlling a person that each deems beneath him or her.  It seems that magic was only one among many things that they have in common.

Blog
This course is exactly what I expected from the beginning. After a few weeks, I really enjoyed blogging about the various topics that we were assigned to write about. Sometimes, I thought that I just wanted to write about one of my trips or free write, but it forced me to evaluate different aspects of my experience. Thus, looking back I appreciate the assigned posts. I did not have a problem getting the blogs in on time. At first I thought it was going to be one post a week and then it changed to every five days, which was a little bit much sometimes, especially if I was traveling when the blog was due (like now, for example, I am posting this blog early because I am going to Amsterdam for the weekend). My only suggestion is to keep up with the assigned blogs and maybe remove a few and allow for more open topics. I know that students may or may not struggle with the open topic blog, but it could also produce more creative and interesting posts as well. Overall I feel like it was a great experience that allowed me to reflect on my study abroad program in many different ways and I am grateful that now I have my thoughts and memories collected in one place on the Internet.

Coahuiltecans

The University of Texas at Austin has an amazing website dedicated to Cabeza de Vaca. Called Texas Beyond History, the site aims to inform students and visitors alike of the ways in which Cabeza de Vaca’s narrative helped to inform later generations of Texans of their ancestors' past. It begins with an editor’s note explaining how Cabeza de Vaca was lucky to have been picked up by the Native Americans of South Texas, and how we in turn benefit from their mutualism,.  Now, we have scores of material that would not have been available had Cabeza de Vaca not been around to write it all down.

In particular, the site highlights the ways in which Cabeza de Vaca’s association with the Native Americans exposed their “foodways,” in other words, their hunting and gathering practices. Because of Cabeza de Vaca, South Texan Indians’ techniques for cooking and hunting, as well as general information on the area’s natural wildlife and flora and fauna are available.

In addition to foodways, the site explains how Cabeza de Vaca’s association helped to bring to light some nomenclature that the Natives used for animals, plants and places, as well as their general trading practices and other customs. While there is too much detail to go into it here, it is worth it to note the name of the Natives with which Cabeza de Vaca had most of his encounters. Inhabitants of the Southern part of Texas and Northern Mexico, Cabeza de Vaca's traveling partners are called the Coahuiltecans. The Coahuiltecans lived in small family groups. Groups of families that spoke the same dialect would sometimes come together to form what the Spanish dubbed “naciones,” but what we would called tribes. Though they were all called Coahuiltecans, they were a diverse group of people with vastly different languages. In addition, various groups of Coahuiltecans subsisted off of the wide range of fruits, livestock and other forms of sustenance available in the Southern Texas region. Naturally, the differences in eating habits led to differences in lifestyle, foodways, and migration patterns.

I’m a little bit bothered that such a patchwork of different peoples with different languages and customs can be grouped under one name—the Coahuiltecans—but it is good that these people are getting the recognition that they deserve. I think it’s important to note that while the explorers might be the people who were “discovering” new lands, and writing it all down, they wouldn’t have been able to do so without the help of the willing and generous Natives. It’s also good to know that Cabeza de Vaca’s narrative is a potent source of material for learning about America’s native peoples. What we seldom see when reading travel literature is the point of view of the people that lived there first. While we can’t really get that directly from the Coahuiltecans, at least we can use what we do have to learn about them too.

Navigation!

It seems that people back in the day just had a better sense of direction. Story after story we read here in Travel Classics depicts weary travelers stranded in lost isles, floating in the middle of the ocean, or shipwrecked in strange worlds. Miraculously, however, most if not all of our heroes have a general sense of where they are, where they plan to go, and where they actually end up. Not too keen on the navigational arts, I found myself extremely curious while reading these tales. How did they find their way without all the conveniences of modern technology? In this day and age, every car comes with a GPS system named Kathy, John or Michael ready to guide you all the way to the 7-11 up the street from your house. I even know people that get a little bit frightened when they can’t figure out which way is uptown after coming out of the subway. I think that a little bit of old fashioned sense of direction could do me and a lot of other people good, so here is some info on how they did it:

The Digest of Columbus’s Log-Book on His First Voyage reveals some especially interesting ways that the explorers determined their location. First, and perhaps cutest of all techniques, was the use of animal sightings for navigation. On September 17, the crew sees a “white bird called the tropic-bird, whose habit is not to sleep on the sea.” And on September 21, they note that “a whale, a sign that they were near land, for whales always remain near land.” On September 29, they describe a “booby…a sea-bird but does not settle on the sea, and does not fly more than twenty leagues from land.” While it may seem tedious, the mention of animals in the log is so numerous and detailed that it must have been an extremely important tool for determining proximity to land. This makes me wonder, though—did all sailors have to have such vast knowledge of sea-faring animals? Or was there a special guy on board who knew all of this stuff? And what about sailors’ knowledge in general? What made a sailor a competent sailor?

While googling for an answer to some of these questions, I was directed to The Columbus Navigation site, an apparently award-winning site that tells all about Columbus and (Surprise!) his navigation techniques and tools. It seems that Columbus was a follower of the Dead Reckoning school of navigational thought—a method in which the navigator determines his position by measuring the course and distance traveled from a known location. It involved using pins to mark location on a map at the end of the day, and using that location as the starting point at the beginning of the next day. Speed and distance had to be measured every hour, and it was recorded on a special instrument called a “toleta,” also known as a traverse board. Seems like a lot of work to be doing every hour on the hour while there’s so much other stuff to worry about—maintenance of the ship, weather, pirates, etc. But apparently, the Dead Reckoning method is one that predates celestial navigation, so it’s understandable that it isn’t exactly the easiest method to maintain. (Side note: I wonder—do things get easier or harder to do with technology? I probably could do neither dead reckoning or work a GPS system in an SUV, but that’s just me)

According to the Columbus Navigation Site, however, some critics say that Columbus was actually a celestial navigator, but kept those records hidden for some reason. Just to make trouble, I’m sure, another camp claims that Columbus only experimented with celestial navigation and that any records that might exist are FRAUDULENT. The debate, I must admit, is quite amusing. I hate to take sides, but I’m going to say that Columbus was a dead reckoning navigator who sometimes experimented with celestial navigation and that any records of celestial navigation that exist are probably not fraudulent. But seriously, it’s actually really interesting. Celestial navigation was a product of the Portuguese. Columbus was from Genoa, which is why it makes more sense for him to have been a dead reckoning navigator. (According to The Columbus Navigation site, he must have learned it from Genoese pilots.) However, because he was an explorer for Spain, it makes sense that he would have spent some time in Portugal and might have learned the new art of navigating by the stars. Isn’t it funny how celestial navigation was the “new thing?” And here I thought it was the oldest type of navigation possible. You learn something new everyday.

I guess my exploration into the art of navigation won’t really help me out. I don’t plan on sailing any time soon, and I’m fairly sure if I do, my voyage will come with room service. But I do feel quite humbled knowing that people back then could do so much more with just their eyes, ears, and a few simple mathematical equations and tools than I can do with my computer.

Journey: Escape, Journey--so appropriate.

In class, we unpacked the reasons why Ibn Battuta might have traveled.  He was a scholar, he was on the most epic journey of his religious life, et cetera, et cetera.  Naturally, all of these are correct and are probably even more correct than what I’m about to propose.  Given my natural tendency to psychoanalyze people, I, of course was more drawn to thinking about the emotional reasons why a loved and lucky man would embark upon a lonely 30 year journey—leaving behind his family and friends in his home town, just to make more family and friends and leave them along the way too.  He went from woman to woman, learned what he could from the scholars that he could then left them, went to Mecca twice, but was still, after all of his travels, never satisfied.  To be quite honest, I think that Ibn Battuta’s deepest motivation was just simple loneliness.  While we don’t really get too much of a glimpse of his life in his hometown, one can only imagine how a young scholar during his time felt that the coastal city of Tangier just didn’t cut it.  In fact, I find his story resonates with my own story.  Growing up in a tiny town, thinking I was destined for more, the taste of travel and toying with the idea of never coming home, or more importantly, how empowered the freedom of travel made me feel—I saw all of these feelings in Ibn Battuta.  I imagine Ibn Battuta approached travel not only as a way to gain knowledge, but also as a way to gain ownership of himself and of his loneliness.  Perhaps he derived strength from the vulnerability he felt at not recognizing, not seeing and not being any place he knew.  Or maybe it was as simple as him trying to leave his loneliness behind.  I guess I don't really know.  All I do know is, I could identify on a completely visceral and gut level.  Most people can probably relate.

Speaking of which, as corny as it may sound, reading Ibn Battuta brought to mind an epically popular song by legendary 80’s/90’s arena band Journey (oh, how ironically appropriate).  In “Don't Stop Believin',” we encounter “a small town girl,” and “a city boy raised in South Detroit,” who “took a midnight train going anywhere.” Steve Perry, or whomever currently serves as the lead voice, tell us of two “strangers…their shadows searching in the night,” and how their story goes “on and on and on and on.”  It’s a bit of a stretch but one could say that maybe (just maybe) Ibn Battuta was just like one of them.  Instead of a train, he got on a camel.  And instead of searching for someone else, he was just searching for himself.  It turns out that a centuries old young scholar on his Rihla might not be that different from "us" afterall.  (I am not really too serious about this metaphor, I just found it slightly amusing.)

I thought for my final post I would recommend a few books that I love that revolve around some sort of a journey. Please add to the list! Don Quijote Don Quijote, Cervantes.  A classic journey in space, and in a quixotic man's mind.  The Edith Grossman translation is phenomenal. On the Road On the Road, Jack Kerouac  A beat travel classic masterpiece. Oracle BonesOracle Bones, Peter Hessler  Hessler is a journalist based in Beijing, and has written a few amazing books about his experience living in the shape-shifting world of modern China.

Navajo Nation

I just spent my Spring Break traveling around the South Western U.S., or as some locals refer to it, Navajo Nation.  At the end of an 11 hour drive from our central California home, a friend and I found ourselves amid a land of red rocks, long dusty roads, and tumble weeds galore.  We explored a space that makes up an essential part of American geography and identity, and for two West Coasters, we felt it ironic that the region had been so far off our radar.  For many Californians, the Southwest is too far for a long weekend, and too close to legitimize spending sacred vacation time just a state away.  While prepping for our journey, few friends could offer any advice about journeying to or near the Grand Canyon.  "I've never been.  We figured it's not going anywhere, so why rush down there?" Without the word of mouth advice we had hoped for, we hit the road none the less.  We slept under the stars at Zion National Park, hiked side by side with hordes of Japanese tourists down into the Grand Canyon, and visited the mysterious energy vortexes in Sedona Arizona, mecca to everything New-Agey. Arizona LandscapeOther than having my own quick travel narrative to compare to the texts we read this semester, there was another theme that I encountered that gave me an interesting perspective on the Travel Classics course. The way that the cultures of Native Americans, or Indians as they are commonly referred to in the region interact with tourists shows the modern outcome of the initial cross-cultural exchange we read about in Cabeza de Vaca.  While a persuasive motivation for Europeans to come to the New World was the extraction of wealth from territories inhabited by Native Americans, it seems as if the roles have reversed in modern permutations of Native American-White interactions.  The sale of Indian crafts (jewelry, rugs, pottery etc.) is prevalent in the region, especially in touristy areas, as (theoretically) Native Americans are the ones to profit off of the influx of Anglo people into their territory.  These products, a commodification of the Native American identity and mystique, is the main point of interaction between visitors and natives.  Many visitors that are drawn to the area because of its rich indigenous history leave with souvenirs to remember their time in Navajo Nation.  But the demand for 'traditional' or anticipated Native American crafts (dream catchers, arrows etc.) creates a market full of goods that primarily satisfy outsider expectations or preconceived fantasies of the place.  Artisans provide the supply, but for the primary purpose of exploiting Navajo Trail tourist desires rather than continuing and expanding an ancient tradition.  And with many Anglo middle men sneaking into the distribution and sale of Native American goods, the impact of the sale of these goods on Native American communities is far from black and white. The souvenir aspect of travel is an interesting one, and is an element that we didn't discuss much this semester.  Souvenirs satisfy different desires of the common traveler.  Souvenir shopping provides an activity for travelers, and engaging in marketplace barter offers travelers the chance to interact with local people.  Upon arriving home, a souvenir acts as a reminder of good times passed, a time marker of a bygone voyage.  Souvenirs also serve as status symbols, showing off to friends the traveler's ability to afford trips and trinkets, along with their worldly view and depth of life experience.  When I was traveling through Arizona and Utah, I was intrigued by the Native American artisan souvenir trade.  Their were a few different categories that I began to notice, representing different modes of production, and the multifaceted ways that travelers interact with a place via their local economic transactions.  Some products were sold with a tag that had a photograph and a number of the Indian that made it.  This tag guaranteed that the rug or dream catcher was made by an authentic Native American.  In this case, the connection with the actual producer is a value-added experience for tourists-  it is important to them that they can tell their friends this new rug was wove be a true Indian on an ancient loom. Yet there are a few unknowns that question how important this awareness about the producer really is. A number identified each artisan along with their first name, which seemed a bit dehumanizing.  The was nothing noted about the working conditions of the artisans, or how they relate to the business.  And while tourists are "buying into" an aspect of Native American identity, we know nothing about how these people relate to the symbols and customs of their ancestors, and how the commercialization of these practices has changed their understanding of them.  Yet despite these possible problematic areas, this category of souvenir did seem to employ Native Americans, offered economic viability for those who desired to preserve ancient traditions, and allowed tourists to indirectly support and interact with authentic and practicing Native Americans. Native American Road Side Jewelry StandAnother category of souvenir I noticed throughout the journey were other types of Native American paraphernalia, that were seemingly also on sale to allow tourists to participate in the Native experience, yet were clearly made overseas.  Displays full of seed bead jewelry that looked hand-made from reservations, or t-shirts and magnets that touted Native American sayings, were subtly tagged with "Made in China" labels. I immediately thought how bizarre it must be for factory workers in southern China to be making dream catchers to sell to tourists in Arizona who buy them in hopes of taking part in a bit of Native American culture.  This example shows that souvenir buying and toting is more about the status symbol aspect, and ironically, is less conscientious about the products origins.   I ended up buying a necklace from a road side stand in Arizona.  The man who sold it to me told me he was a Navajo, and to tell people who asked about it that "this necklace wasn't just something from Wal-Mart."  The tension between hand and machine made goods, the arguments about local production versus outsourcing are not news, nor will they end any time soon.  But when these economic exchanges occur in the footsteps of past eras of cultural exploitation,  such as we read about in Cabeza de Vaca, and when we as travelers legitimize buying sovenirs in order to connect with a place, yet buy something made in a factory worlds away, we need to think critically about our role as travelers, and the historical and social context of our appearance in different, including domestic, lands.

Souvenir, anyone?

Me, myself, and I...oh, and some other folks too

Some messages inlaid in this semester’s series of readings are crystal clear: the importance of exploration, the ingenuity of discovery, the race for property, knowledge, and respect. In one way or another, each of the travel classics that we have read have communicated some particular combination of these achievements, whether the goal of the author/protagonist was material or intellectual. In the face of the numerous (though often morally questionable) social and political accomplishments of each of our “classic” figures, it is crucial to also examine the more personal side of these famous literary and historical figures: how can we ignore the depth and breadth of the relationships forged during their travels? Whether our explorers sparked some sort of connection with another person, a place, a new society as a whole, or a deeper understanding of their own self-worth or destiny, it is undeniable that their travels helped to unlock new relationships. Bear with me while I dissect this concept in relation (no pun intended) to the stories we have read during our own journey through classic travel literature.

The Odyssey: In this ancient Greek epic, Odysseus’ relationships determine the course of the entire plotline. His obvious motivating factors are to return home and resume his status as king, husband, and father. During his journey from Troy these goals become compromised, and as a result Odysseus is forced to use his cunning skills of manipulation in order to ensure his return to Ithaca. Subject to his wiles are his crew members (who he does show genuine concern and respect for, yet ultimately uses as pawns in his larger pursuit), the gods, the inhabitants of each of the lands he encounters, and the monsters. His ability to interact with these various people and creatures is the invaluable tool that enables him to return home.

Herodotus: As I wrote in my blog post on Herodotus, he often used his own society as a mirror by which to compare those that he was visiting. This reflection shows his connection to his homeland, which peeks through quite obviously in his writing. His reaction to the indigenous peoples of the countries that he travels to is also very telling: more often than not, he writes about them with a condescending yet voyeuristic tone, simultaneously condemning and fetishizing many of his subjects.

Marco Polo: Taking a page out of Herodotus’ book, Polo captures the same scrutinizing tone, holding these “new” cultures up to judgement against his own Italian background. Furthermore, Polo is the first one to show a distinct religious prejudice, referring often to the Islamic societies as a threat, or projecting them as the enemy. His writings reflect the greater Christian sentiment of his time, that of the opposition to the “Saracens”. He not only posits himself as a contrast to their ways, but enlarges the objectification by involving the Church as a player.

Ibn Battutah: Here, religion is used as a conduit in a completely different way. Battutah, as a Muslim pilgrim, weaves his account as one from the inside, as opposed to the Mediterranean and European outsider perspectives of Herodotus and Marco Polo. His alignment with the culture allows him to permeate the genre in a distinct fashion, creating an entirely different perspective than those who preceded him and, indeed, of many to follow.

Columbus: The famed explorer’s diaries expose not only his spiritual connection to the Church as he indicates conversion of the natives as a primary goal of his expedition, but his somewhat superficial loyalties to the Spanish king and queen. His entries pander directly to their sentiments of sovereignty as he quantifies entire societies as “easily Christianized” or “easily made into slaves”.

Cabeza de Vaca: This conquistador manages, unintentionally, to do what Columbus would not deign to do: forge a connection with the native Americans. While thrown somewhat haphazardly  and unwillingly into this position, Cabeza de Vaca immersed fully into the culture, a feat accomplished by not one of the other travelers we have studied. His survival in the often xenophobic and violent native society is a testament to his ability to effectively connect and communicate with the tribes.

The Tempest: The storyline laid out in Shakespeare’s play stands alone in our reading selections in many ways. Not only does the fictional protagonist possess magical powers, but he singularly exercises complete control over the island, and manages to keep the virtue and nobility of his daughter intact. Obviously Shakespeare is the master of spinning a quite spectacular tale that has been a potentially questionable inclusion in our syllabus. However, the focus on the relationship between Prospero and Miranda illuminates the more personal motivators behind travel and survival: here, we have not only the first major female figure, but the first family member to make a significant appearance in our travel stories. This relationship is a more obvious one, but recalls the concept that each of our chosen characters did indeed embark with personal goals in mind in addition to the more socially and economically profitable.

The only plausible overarching theme is that of the formation of an important, defining relationship. Chronologically, there is only some correspondence in theme and relation. For example, our earlier writers – Homer and Herodotus specifically have completely different motives. Later in time, Columbus and Cabeza de Vaca share the goal of colonization, but have vastly different experiences with the terrain of the New World and its inhabitants. The Tempest stands out particularly by reason of the protagonists’ situation – that is, not having had much choice in the matter about being stuck on the island. Ideologically, there were many different motivators: Columbus and Cabeza de Vaca strove for economic prosperity, Ibn Battutah and Columbus for a display of religious piety, Prospero and Odysseus for returning to –or establishing a sense of –home.

The connections forged by each of these major characters – whether to their own agenda, the people they encountered, the promise of wealth, or any other factor – propelled them through their travels. The importance of their relationships is intrinsic to the development of their stories.

I really enjoyed this class, as I thought I would before selecting it. This class was not for any academic or requirement filling purpose. It was a last ditch attempt to take some interesting classes before I graduate this May. Being in Stern I have not had the opportunity to take many interesting or engaging classes. The reason I knew this class would be interesting is because the subject matter is so fascinating. Travel is an integral and often confounding part of life. There is this innate desire within most people to travel. What I like to call, “the grass is always greener on the other side” attitude is very prevalent among all of us. There are so many different possible motives for travel: monetary, social, professional, discovery and so on. Some of the greatest and most memorable movies are the so called “road trip” movies. Where the main character and usually a couple of friends hop in a car and head off. Sometimes there is a defined goal, get white castle burgers at any cost; sometimes it is more loosely defined, find something better than their current situation. There is something within us that is drawn to and can relate to this type of movie. While studying the readings, I tried to understand them from the point of view of these philosophical questions. Why did Columbus devote his life to discovering other lands? Why did Ibn Batuttu decide to leave his small town for a life of travel without any resources or friends to travel with? Sometimes these answers were pretty clear and straight forward, other times not so much. However, overall reading these works and the discussion of them helped me to come to a somewhat better understanding of travel and the reasons behind it. It seems to me from time to time we all feel that need to escape and have a natural curiosity for what else there is in the world. As we mature from childhood to adulthood we begin to question what we know and want to know more about what we don’t know. There is an intense desire to learn more about the world and understand where other cultures are coming from. I think most of us agree that this can be done in only a very limited way through a textbook. This is why so many of us turn to travel. Just as we begin to open up to travel as we enter college age, we begin to turn away from it as we get older and the realities of life set in. Jobs, families and other responsibilities happen. This makes it harder and harder to travel as one gets older. That’s why I hope to do the after graduation obligatory one month of travel this summer with a few friends. I know I will be thinking of some of these works as I embark on my travels, so for this I am glad I took this class.

NYC Visitors Center

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.

Today I have the accessibility of technologies and forms of communication that were nonexistent to travelers like Ibn Battuta or Herodotus. I can instantly locate the latitude and longitude of a place on a highly specific map with the click of a button. I can go to a website or visit a travel agency to find information about places, cultures and people half way around the world. Countless more forms of transportation are available at my fingertips. I can drive cross-country to California, sail on a ship to Bermuda, or fly on a plane to Egypt all without questioning the means of transport or my safety aboard. These luxuries I am afforded as a traveler today, wouldn’t be possible without the journeys and experiences of the men we read in Travel Classics.

Along with this idea, the topic that struck me the most throughout the readings was the difficulty of travel for these explorers. Cabeza de Vaca was shipwrecked and survived with only a handful of members from his original crew. Christopher Columbus had valid fears throughout his voyage that he and his crew would not reach land. Even Prospero had to learn from Caliban where to find food and refuge in order to survive on the island he was stuck on. Nothing about their journeys was safe. People today associate travel with leisure, sightseeing, business and visits to family and friends. Traveling can still be exciting, stimulating, and exotic, but for most travelers there is a sense of consistency, safety, and accessibility in transit and once they arrive at their destinations. Until reading the narratives for this course, I didn’t quite fully understand how significant it was for these people to board a ship, say goodbye to their lives and family, and travel to a place that they knew very little about while not knowing if they would ever see their home again, let alone discover the actual place they were looking for. Climate, food, sickness, speed of travel, accuracy of maps, and the response of the native inhabitants of the land they arrived at were all variables that seriously affected the outcome of their voyages. While the reasons for traveling were different, the authors’ realities of their journeys were the same.

The notable characters and individuals we read and discussed are not only important because of their experiences, but also because they wrote their travels down in a log. Would I have known about Marco Polo or Ibn Battuta had they not documented their journeys? I don't think so. Travel writing, although not an established genre at the time, was just as important for the people who were reading it when it was first published as it is for us today. The precise annotations of time and distance by Marco Polo and Christopher Columbus allowed other travelers the security of knowing the approximate location of their destinations. The descriptions of the people and cultures visited by Herodotus, Ibn Battuta, and Cabeza de Vaca (although not always entirely accurate) gave others a chance to explore other cultures and read about different people even though they themselves may never travel. These narratives show how influential travel and travel writing is in shaping the way people view the world.

It’s almost baffling that Christopher Columbus is as respected as he is and regarded as such a hero when this book makes him seem like a lying, manipulative, murdering colonizer. So I watched this silly little movie to try to figure it, and this is what I came up with: Christopher Columbus is considered a hero because he is a seen as a brave, ambitious man who dared to question accepted science and set out to prove that, despite popular belief, the world was actually round. This is understandable—people like brave and courageous, they like people who think for themselves, they like people who take risks that pay off (Columbus did, after all, prove that the world did not just end with the oceans falling off into space). Unfortunately, it is also very wrong. No educated Westerner believed the world was flat after the 3rd century BC, but when Washington Irving wrote a highly fictionalized fantasy story about Columbus’ life, it became accepted that the Flat Earth theory was way more widely believed that it ever was.

The Flat Earth theory can be found in Mesopotamian writings, the Bible, and ancient Babylonian, Greek, and pre-17th century Chinese cultures. But as early as the 6th century BC, scientists and mathematicians like Pythagoras began to question this theory. Aristotle is said to have disproved the theory in 330 BC, and after that, westerners pretty much accepted that the world was round. In the 1800s, Camille Flammarion’s woodcut L'Atmosphère: Météorologie Populaire depicted a man hanging over the edge of the world where the Earth meets Heaven. Although he was only illustrating a scene from the bible in the style of a 16th century woodcut, many people came to believe that the woodcut was actually from the 1500s, and actually depicted what people believed about the shape of the world. From this, Washington Irving got the idea to incorporate the Flat Earth theory into his Columbus biography, which was largely mistaken as true.

Everything seems to work out pretty well for Prospero and his daughter Miranda at the end of The Tempest. Miranda falls in love, Prospero gets his position back, and everyone travels happily back to civilization. But I can’t help but wonder what their life is going to be like when they get back. Does Prospero think that everything will be exactly the same? That he’ll just be able to waltz back into his old life as if he hadn’t spent the past twelve years on an island with only his young daughter and a bunch of enslaved spirits?

As I thought about this, I realized that this is a common occurrence in many of the books we’ve read, and also in popular culture in general. Cabeza de Vaca was gone for eight years, Marco Polo for seventeen years, and Ibn Battuta for twenty-four. But they all end up going back where they came from and living out the remainder of their lives at home. I wonder about this—did nothing change in Spain, Venice and Tangier?

I think that this is an aspect of traveling that modern audiences are very concerned with, because it is a major part of movies and literature. In Dumas’ The Count of Monte Cristo, Edmond Dantes spends years and years in prison, and when he finally escapes he returns to a home that is nothing like what he left. His father is dead, his fiancé married to his best friend, and everything about his old life completely gone. In the movie Cast Away, Tom Hanks is only gone for four years (a third of the time that Prospero is gone, and an eighth of the time Ibn Battuta was traveling around), but when he gets off his little island, his wife is married to Chris Noth and has been raising his baby for a year. The lives of these travelers/ castaways at home don’t wait for them to come back, which I think is interesting to think about in the context of The Tempest and these other travelers’ lives.