Travels – Page 20

Allein, Nicht Allein

August 24, 2023 JWise Photo of the Day, Travels

Frankfurt, Germany

In color or ohne Farbe, the world at the edge of my recollections is simultaneously vibrant, cold, devoid of sympathy, and ready to penetrate dreams. Places out of the past flirt with the wake of interpretation as I skirt time out of sync with the moment, leading me to wander the thoughts and impressions of an age ago. Somewhere in my distant history, I traveled the cascade of depravity I yearned to embrace when the only salve for pain was witnessing decay greater than the suffering of uncertainty. A heart in putrefaction is ripe to take wrong turns as my existence was spinning around a drain too backed up to accept the shit trying to find an escape. To be enchanted with filth as a reflection of where one’s soul slunk off to seemed to be an appropriate cloak of how to be perceived, should one desire to be held in disdain.

Frankfurt, Germany

Finding the transgressive self that is never far away (and yet it is) as distance washes the unclean from our being when we fail to remain ensconced below the surface is to re-encounter an iteration of that version of yourself that might better remain buried with progress. The borders in youth were fluid in generally unhealthy ways, with survival never seeming certain. Existential nihilism fit tightly as though it were a second skin while all that embellished the darkness was clung to, should it try to escape the clutching hand.

Frankfurt, Germany

Cast off what has no utility, burn it, break it, throw it into the void. These scooters likely elicit more curiosity about why they are strewn about than the human detritus that is and has been part of the Bahnhofsviertel for decades. Those wretched former human beings that straggle along the passages and dirty streets of our cities are relegated to be the denizens of the void, barely existing in an abyss of disdain. The first lesson in the Lack-of-Empathy Club is to call it compassion in order to mask the hatred of such eyesores daring to pollute our vision and sense of aesthetic sensibilities.

Frankfurt, Germany

Allein (alone), nicht allein (not alone) should never be the transitional state of emergence as it damages the metamorphosis of the inevitable leaving of innocence.

With Caroline visiting her godmother Helga, I’m alone and then again, not alone, as no matter the distance, Caroline is never far. Normally, I’d be sharing details at some point in a post regarding what my other half has been up to, but Helga has never been a fan of photos. In any case, so as not to create undue stress, the visit with Caroline’s godmother is happening away from the lens. Should there be a story about their shared time, that will be coming from my wife and inserted into this post where she sees fit.

Frankfurt, Germany

From the fentanyl addicted to African nuns, the poor to those of means, old to young, people from all walks of life move through the main train station. Other than beggars and station employees, a certain amount of hurry is in most people’s step. I’m certain that it’s only the pigeons that are the constant here, while everything else has changed since I first visited this station 38 years ago. They and the building never appear different. Just as it was on my first visit, the homeless see something in me that inspires them to ask me for help. I’ve watched who they target: they have methods best known to themselves that inevitably include me. But it’s no longer 1985, and the luxury of lingering for hours on end for serious people-watching is no longer afforded me. I have a date I must honor.

Frankfurt, Germany

If you knew the main station area, a.k.a. the Bahnhofsviertel, you might think my date was with a prostitute. Like I said, it’s no longer 1985. I’m also not looking for a train to travel to any particular destination as I’m already within proximity of where I need to be. I’m here to revisit that distant part of me that, while awkward or alien to what others might consider normal, was a defining age of understanding what love was and wasn’t.

Frankfurt, Germany

Foundations responsible for bearing the weight of everything above them can, over time, appear scuffed, but they are the only reason anything has the opportunity to remain standing well into the future. We do not undermine these less-than-sexy structures; instead, we build bulwarks upon them to offer resilience to the work they must perform. This is also a metaphor for us humans who, far too often, are fragile entities built of paper mache on balsa wood. Resilience among people may arise out of difficulty and struggle but a more humane architecture is one premised on love but how many of us have acquired that as our foundation?

Frankfurt, Germany

Baseler Platz, south of the Hauptbahnhof. I’m heading towards the Main River, but looking north offers you nothing other than coordinates of abstractions that cannot be experientially understood. Most of what education brings seems to me to be similar in its abstraction in that without putting yourself in the middle of a thing; there is nothing tangibly processed or owned. Maybe a good example would be that of learning a language that you memorize for reading, but you’ve never uttered a single word of it, so there is no real fluency. We must find familiarity by immersing ourselves and yet we are asking young minds to shutter imagination by replacing it with rote memorization.

Olaf Finkbeiner and John Wise in Frankfurt, Germany

My lunch date is with Olaf Finkbeiner, whom I’ve known for about 35 years now.

Frankfurt, Germany

Across the street from his flat is a little Persian place where we’ll eat and talk for a couple of hours before he is pulled away by a work-related phone call he must tend to. Prior to that call, we’ll discuss social issues, the global economy, education, technology, and politics, along with change and the lack of it. Between sirens and speeding emergency vehicles, we’ll also touch on creative endeavors and Olaf’s building of a small stage area in his basement, where he’ll be moving some musical equipment with the hopes of it becoming a studio space for making music and videos.

Frankfurt, Germany

Contrary to my thinking I was going to return to my wander, Olaf invited me to take a pause in the rear garden and that we could continue the exchange once he was free again. My first inclination after pulling up to a picnic table was to get in some reading, but after laying down on the bench to look up into the tree towering over me, I started to consider how a tree might see itself.

Leaves attach to twigs and branches via the petiole. The leaves are in a kind of universe to themselves as the trunk and roots are some distant concept that would be unfathomable though the relationship between the parts cannot exist without the symbiotic whole. To the branches, is the trunk a type of God, and the leaves their children? Root hairs only exist by the grace of lateral roots, while the tap root is the kingmaker in this subterranean world. The minerals and water taken up by the roots are like prayers that allow the molecules to ascend the trunk to what must surely be heaven.

Does the leaf surface find its life force from the sun, the CO2, or the water that mysteriously arrives from a deep, hidden place? What about the glucose produced by the leaves that travel out of them and is stored as starch by the tree? Where is the creation story found in this relationship?

To the many creatures and processes on earth that require oxygen, if they knew that their existence was only possible due to the byproduct of photosynthesis, would they pray to plants and cyanobacteria? The symbiosis of these threads could go on and on, and they do, except in the simple minds of people who believe that they are somehow removed from this important relationship; they are above the life that is all around and within them.

Without the plants, we all die, not by a 2nd coming but by negligence exponentiated by our own stupidity or by our ability to blame our shortsightedness upon our deities.

Without us accepting our roles of acting like trees to connect the earth to the sky and utilizing what’s between, it will be us humans who will prove we were undeserving of such a perfect place. Isn’t that then our flaunting of vulgar stupidity and hatred for the very place essential for our survival as we pretend to be smarter than trees?

Demonstration for Ukraine in Frankfurt, Germany

After leaving Olaf and my thoughts of God found in botany, my path took me upriver to Römer for a quick visit with Jutta before taking a walk to Hauptwache for my dinner date. As I sat on a nearby wall, wondering if my wife would find me in the crowd as I’d not told her exactly where I was, I realized that something out of the ordinary was going on, and I hadn’t realized it because it was part of what is simply normal in Frankfurt. A demonstration in support of Ukraine was taking place. There are over 1,000,000 Ukrainian refugees here in Germany, or ten times the number the United States has accepted. What was happening was not so much a demonstration but community outreach for the Ukrainians to show appreciation for being welcomed by a tiny country about the same size as the state of Montana. It’s strange to consider that the war is only about 1,000 miles away from Frankfurt, which is about the same distance as Phoenix, Arizona, to Portland, Oregon.

Frankfurt, Germany

My date found me and suggested Döner for dinner: a woman after my own heart. Having just visited Nazar Döner & Grill yesterday and finding it acceptable for this kind of encounter, we strolled along Zeil just as we have countless other times, as this is obviously not our first date. Speaking of dating, it took me a moment to learn that this film poster for the movie Doggy Style and its byline “This Summer Comes from Behind” and whatever that implies is an animated film known as Strays in the U.S. The provocative poster with a dog about to mount a deer while another dog has mounted a gnome suggests themes that appeal to my prurient interests, though I’d never have thoughts about doggy style with Caroline and of course, I mean seeing the movie. A date in Frankfurt with Caroline wouldn’t have been complete without a visit to Eis Christina for their legendary Spaghetti Eis, which is as popular as ever.

Stumbling Stones in Frankfurt, Germany

What an awkward transition from innuendo about sex from behind to Jews that took flight to escape Nazi Germany back in 1939, but this is the absurdity of our world. My post has moved through inferences about my time with prostitutes, homeless people, and nihilism to friends, family, war, entertainment, atrocities, nature, love, God, education, and even a nod to a pop song in my title because a life well lived will likely have been a stroll through the surreal and should never be experienced alone.

[So, how was my day? I didn’t want to interrupt John’s flow, so here is a quick summary: Helga picked me up from my sister’s house. Since she had a stroke and major surgery last year, I was a bit surprised that she’s still driving. However, since Helga lives in Kronberg, the ability to drive is extremely important for her need to connect with cultural amenities here in town. I had asked her to suggest a museum or exhibit for our outing, and so we headed to a parking garage near Schauspielhaus, which allowed us to walk over to the Mainufer (Main riverbank), where most of Frankfurt’s museums are located. En route, we passed the (new to me) Jewish museum that definitely warrants a thorough visit in the future, but today’s destination was Liebieghaus, a former villa that now is a sculpture museum and gallery. We crossed the river on the Holbeinsteg bridge, a relatively new pedestrian and bike/scooter river crossing. At this point, it was time for lunch which we enjoyed in the restaurant of the Staedel Museum. Afterward, we walked over to Liebieghaus next door and its current exhibit, “Machine Room of the Gods,” which links sculptures and art with science, shining modern light on ancient artifacts. Since the day was hot and humid, we sat down for coffee and water in the museum’s cool garden cafe. I really enjoy these outings with Helga; she is so culturally minded. Her perspectives are always interesting, and I love our conversations; she challenges and inspires me. – Caroline]

Déjà Vu in Frankfurt, Germany

August 23, 2023 JWise Photo of the Day, Travels

Nidda River in Heddernheim, Germany

Life happening between places is one of the first things that struck me here in the early hours of being back in Germany. How easy it is from afar to forget about the relative intimacy that exists in a society otherwise considered cold and distant. The reminder was inspired by a young romantic couple we passed on the street last night on our walk back from dinner. In those two, I could see Caroline and me nearly 35 years ago. All these years later, as it was back then, it’s not uncommon to see romance unfolding in public, whereas in the U.S., dating often happens in cars and behind closed doors at a distance and out of view. For those who don’t know, there’s a generalization that Germans can appear aloof because they are not busy greeting each other with empty good-morning greetings and less than honest questions asking how one’s day is going as we practice in America. Germans simply do away with the vacuous exchange, opting instead to focus on themselves and those who are important to them.

Litfaßsäule in Heddernheim, Germany

Under these beautiful blue skies, our walk over the Nidda River took Caroline and me through the same neighborhood that delivers us to Speisekammer, but this morning, we are looking for an ATM because there are places in Germany where cash is the only way to deal with getting what we want. As for this photo, I’ve never passed a Litfaßsäule (advertising column) that I didn’t love, and this one is as good as any other to share. The utility of these columns cannot be understated because, even in local neighborhoods, they are a quick and easy way to be updated on what cultural events are taking place. Compare this to Arizona, where I have to watch TV, read the local newspaper, or visit specific websites to learn what’s happening around town.

Frankfurt, Germany

My familiarity with this curve in the road is forever engrained as to the left from here on Maybachstraße, where the old nightclub known as Batschkapp used to be. After watching the Pixies perform there, I ran into Caroline Engelhardt for the dozenth time, and we started a longer talk that resulted in her missing her train, me giving her a ride home, and the rest is history, as they say.

Cafe in Frankfurt, Germany

Living in America, it’s a habit to look for a thing that is nearby, and that’s what we did regarding the ATM instead of looking for one near the place we’d be stopping at for breakfast. It turns out that there was another branch of the same bank two doors down from Rockenbäcker at Weißer Stein where we were going. Who ever heard of being able to walk between ATMs outside half a dozen American cities such as New York, San Francisco, or Seattle?

As for breakfast, we had four different types of rolls that included a slight miscommunication as Caroline only wanted one of the small rye rolls (brötchen), but we got three, two butters, two packets of jam, and two coffees for about $9.50. Because we can’t easily buy brötchen in the States, I’ll substitute the bread choice with a few croissants and two drip coffees, which, without tip, will cost no less than $20. One has to wonder why our prices are so inflated, and please don’t blame it on politics, as Joe Biden doesn’t personally dictate what small businesses charge for baked goods. Caroline noted that seemingly none of the places we visit in Germany are playing music; this will be something we’ll need to pay attention to if we are to verify that as fact. So, how was everything? In a German word, Luxus.

Hauptwache in Frankfurt, Germany

The subway, aside from familiarity and convenience, is an elixir for the senses where we are delivered with little friction to destinations, allowing experiences to form and take shape. We meet others, are brought to events, shopping, sightseeing, or visit friends and family at the other end. A riot of scents is also readily available, from the funky to the obscene and the beautiful and curious. The parade of perfumes can entice our noses or, when laid on too heavily, repulse them. Once a tram enters the underground world, we encounter the damp earth smells mixed with sweat, fruit stands, bakeries, cigarettes, alcohol, trash, and everything else that creates the particular odors that define subways.

Hauptwache in Frankfurt, Germany

From out of Hauptwache we have to head south towards the Main River over Römerberg, the seat of Frankfurt’s city government. We are on our way to one of the most important reasons we came to Germany: visiting my mother-in-law, Caroline’s mom, a.k.a. Jutta.

Caroline Wise with drawing she made as little girl in Frankfurt, Germany

Maybe 47 or even 48 years ago, Caroline painted this horse that her mom has treasured for all of the intervening years, and while she’d like assistance in hanging it on her wall, we happened to forget our picture-hanging tools and equipment back home in Phoenix.

Katharina Engelhardt, Jutta Engelhardt and Caroline Wise in Frankfurt, Germany

After a short while, our niece Katharina shows up and it’s time for the ladies to head out for lunch. My absence is intentional as the conversation becomes fragmented, with everyone making concessions for my poor Deutsche Sprache by speaking English. So, with a photo to note the moment, they’ll go their way, and I mine. While they situate themselves down the river at the Wewe Cafe, I have other plans.

Döner kebab in Frankfurt, Germany

My primary goal, if the jetlag allows it, is to get some writing in, but first, I’m aiming for the tram to Bornheim Mitte to visit Döneria, my present favorite Turkish sandwich. However, with Frankfurt under a construction explosion, the line to get me to the area requires Schienenersatzverkehr (rail replacement travel), which feels too convoluted to my groggy mind, so I’ll fend for something near Zeil. Nazar Döner & Grill has some good reviews, so that’s where I went. The Döner is not as good, but considering this is my first in two years, it’s damn good enough. On the plus side, there’s a nice breeze through the open storefront, helping relieve the heat and humidity I’m suffering from.

Hare Krishna members in Frankfurt, Germany

My brain is wrestling with me as my will and need to adapt to the change in time zones asks that I remain in the moment while typically, at this time over on our side of the earth, it’s 3:00 in the morning, and I’m sound asleep. I’m out of sync with my normal routine. I think I need to relinquish control of the desire to write and accept that I’ll spend the next hours wandering around and taking in the sights, such as this band of Hare Krishna parading by. For a moment, I’m back in Los Angeles circa 1972, and I’m either dreaming or hallucinating in my exhaustion. They’ll set up further south of where I’m planted, and from the distance, their clanging bells will continue to resonate up the street.

Frankfurt, Germany

On and off over the past nearly 40 years, I’ve walked between Hauptwache and Römer countless times, and yet I’ve never stopped here next to St. Paul’s Church on Paulplatz to check out the Einheitsdenkmal (Monument to German Unity) that’s sat here since 1907. And yet, the xylophone player I listened to playing the Titanic Theme Song for the maybe dozenth time has already become a Frankfurt fixture in my memory

Frankfurt, Germany

I’ve finally taken the time to learn about this graffiti motif we always enjoy seeing when in Frankfurt, they are City Ghosts and were created by Frankfurt artist Philipp A. Schäfer.

Frankfurt, Germany

During the time I was reintroducing myself to the streets of the city, I easily passed a thousand people, and not once did I encounter a single person wearing yoga pants, though that would change on subsequent days. The point is, they are not that ubiquitous, by a long shot, compared to how common they are in the U.S. During the same time, I saw four sight-impaired people using white canes to negotiate their way ahead and failed to spot a single article of clothing demonstrating allegiance to a university or school sports team. One Tupac and a Cannibal Corpse t-shirt were the only band loyalty displays, while dozens of women wearing headscarves were noted.

I’d like to consider that American cultural influence is waning, but a couple of hours of observation in a single city do not indicate empirical proof, just bias confirmation.

Caroline Wise in Frankfurt, Germany

Following my fog-of-jetlag observations while wandering, I met up again with Caroline and Katharina to find a coffee, and we ended up at Streuselbar on Fressgasse. If you like cookie dough, this crumbly stuff found on various German baked goods and cobblers in America will be something right up your alley; at least they had coffee. As far as our conversation with our niece, we spoke of those awkward kinds of young adult things that need not be shared on blogs. After our early practice of “Fika,” about which you will learn more in a few days, we were back at Lebenshaus visiting with Jutta to say goodnight before she joined the others for dinner.

Shopping center on Zeil in Frankfurt, Germany

This post’s title references Déjà Vu as so much of this day is nearly a carbon copy of other first days in Frankfurt, though this one included nearly 90 degrees of heat combined with 50% humidity, allowing our clothes to have 90% more body-sticking power.

Frankfurt Skyline, Germany

While I wish for insights and some deeper thinking, the nature of long-distance traveling around the globe means there’s a chance one falls into the intellectual doldrums, and that’s exactly where I landed.

Caroline Wise in Frankfurt, Germany

I’ve been looking into these eyes and at this face nearly every day during the intervening 12485 days since I fell in love with Caroline in the summer of 1989, and even today, when I see her, I still smile at this woman, even when it’s a photograph.

Sachsenhausen, Germany

Dinner was at Apfelweinwirtschaft Fichtekränzi, a.k.a. Apple Wine Restaurant Spruce Wreath somehow, the English translation doesn’t sound as cool as Fichtekränzi as it’s known here locally. Open since 1849; the place is named after the wreath of braided spruce branches that traditionally signaled visitors that a restaurant featured apple wine, a favorite in the area. The outdoor patio, its location in Sachsenhausen, the traditional German food, and especially the grüne Soße all work to lend this little place the kind of attractive nature that has drawn us back again and again over the years.

Vending machine in Sachsenhausen, Germany

A funny thing happened on the way to the tram stop: we encountered a magic vending machine where sausages were the primary product. While pork and beef steaks, along with eggs, are also available for those middle-of-the-night cravings, it is the nearly two dozen types of bratwurst that reign supreme. This luxury of German carnivory delights is courtesy of The Worscht Designer. Worscht is Frankfurt dialect for Wurst (sausage).

Above The Earth and Outside of Routines

August 22, 2023 JWise Photo of the Day, Travels

Somewhere near England or Ireland

Soaring gracefully far above the earth, we are outside the concerns that dictate routines. There is no real opportunity to influence our environment or situation in any meaningful way anyway: the machine transporting us into another culture does not care if we are aboard or not. At nearly 900 km/h, we speed through thin frozen air, looking down at clouds and out at a horizon to a point 345 km or 214 miles away, considerably further than when we are earthbound and on a clear day on the right side of the plane, we could see all the way across Iceland.

Between Calais and Dunkirk, France

In the air, we are free of the ground, though gravity still holds sway just as we are held close by our anchoring habits. Many remain tethered to routines, afraid to venture outside the familiar, and what might they do while captive in our craft anyway? Well, anything, if we were so inclined and if the intellectual convention of imagination were alive and well. Alas, the majority of those we traveled with this evening were apparently afraid to travel too far as they remain connected to the terrestrial media of repetition and doing what they do at home. Who thought television screens in seatbacks were a good idea?

Flying over Frankfurt, Germany

True, there will be no playing the piano up here nor a game of badminton, and if we were to join in conversation, we’d quickly be forced to confront the limitations our blinders shield us from by denying us anything more than a few benign subjects revolving around the mundane to discuss anyway. But there is a world outside the window and a universe beyond the smattering of knowledge we think we possess. I’d like to believe that the people surrounding me are on a great adventure beyond their expectations, though experience has shown me that I’m delusional for maintaining hope that cognizance is a domain that the majority of humanity desires to flirt with. Why make efforts to learn when we already know how to swipe?

Frankfurt Airport, Germany

Once we’ve landed, we’ll swap one routine for a mirror version that happens only rarely at a distance of about 10,000km from home while in the German city of Frankfurt.

Katharina Engelhardt and Caroline Wise in Frankfurt, Germany

It is in Frankfurt where we meet with family not seen but about every two years with familiarity and a sense of nostalgia pulling us into places and variations of conversations visited previously. Our brother-in-law Klaus picked us up at the airport, and our niece Katharina came along as a surprise.

Heddernheim, Germany

Staying in Heddernheim with the in-laws, check.

Heddernheim, Germany

Walking to dinner, check. If you are wondering if the clock on the St. Peter and Paul church is reading correctly on our way to dinner just before 9:00 p.m., that would be about right. Nothing like exhaustion to help us sleep through the night when our body clock is telling us it’s midday in Phoenix, Arizona.

Speisekammer Restaurant in Heddernheim, Germany

First meal in Germany at Speisekammer for traditional Frankfurt fare, check.

Klaus Engelhardt and Stephanie Engelhardt in Heddernheim, Germany

While I felt this was all about the same experience as previous visits, I checked my old posts about going to this restaurant and learned that our first visit was back in 2018, with my mother-in-law Jutta and niece Katharina joining us. Tonight, it was a foursome with Klaus, Stephanie, Caroline, and me. At other times of the year, white asparagus was on the menu; tonight, the seasonal specials feature fresh chanterelle mushrooms. While I extoll the virtues of mixing things up, I stick like glue to “Handkäse mit Musik” and “Frankfurter Schnitzel mit grüner Soße.”

Zeilweg tram stop in Heddernheim, Germany

After dinner and dessert, we walked home together. The tram here was not part of our travels; it’s just a reminder of how much I enjoy having access to functional and safe public transportation, along with my familiarity with the stop here at Zeilweg that we frequent a lot while staying in Heddernheim. Tomorrow, we’ll have our first encounter with the smell of the subway; I do not mean this sarcastically, as I truly do love the familiar scent that accompanies the underground rail system.

It’s hot up on the top floor of House Engelhardt as Europe has been going through a heat wave, and with no air conditioning, we rely on a fan and roof windows cracked open for a breeze that will hopefully cool the attic fast enough to allow us to sleep through the night and begin tackling jetlag.

Airborne Bus

August 21, 2023 JWise Photo of the Day, Thoughts, Travels

Caroline Wise and John Wise flying out of Phoenix, Arizona

In momentous personal news, preparations have concluded, and mere minutes remain before our position on the globe will transition to another continent. With that, I needed to turn my attention to finish writing about our weekend visit to Kartchner Caverns, as I certainly don’t want to drag unfinished details into our vacation plans.

At first glance, it might be obvious that we are not in America, not in Arizona, not at home, but that would be a false conclusion based on what you think you see. First and foremost, we are still within ourselves, though the physical positioning of our bodies will be in a location other than what is more typical for our existence. I need to break away from that paradigm and become unseen in this image that betrays what I’m trying to claim. You see, I don’t want to create envy, I would rather share a desire to have gathered more and created more intrinsic value to dreams than to demonstrate our ability to consume.

When you see images of Caroline and myself on these pages over the coming weeks, they are not posted here to show the reader/visitor that these are the faces of the fortunate; they are meant to become vivid reminders that the profound experiences brought into our senses, were in fact, taken in by the two people in the photos. We become incredulous over time that these experiences were our own. On that note, there is a striving to find more than what can be represented visually and hence the nonstop effort to write through attempts of discovery at what is not immediately seen but hinted at through some level of vague understanding. In this sense, I tend to dislike the selfies and feel more meaning is shared through interpretation than through images of us in iconic locations.

I can’t emphasize enough that we do not travel for prestige or to make impressions upon those who desire to envy others for their good luck; we venture into our minds and imaginations for the edification of a deep part from within our souls. Travel is but one aspect of that process that also relies on books, music, and exploration of our local environment, while on rare occasions, we can indulge in conversations with equally curious people that extend how we rewire our brains and enrich our lives.

Aside from our own publicly available journal, where we’ve selectively allowed others to peer into some of the minutiae of the day, we are leaving traces for future generations to more accurately understand where we’ve traveled both literally and figurately in our growth towards our own end. The world of my grandfather in post-World War II America was a wildly different environment of small roads, faraway places, mom-and-pop diners, motels, and destinations where services might be uncertain. Compare that to our time with major highways; we can travel with cars that don’t run on gasoline, cheap airline tickets that can whisk us closer to our destination and can have an Uber deliver us the last miles, diners which are mostly gone, replaced by franchises that serve the exact same food as a location 2,000 miles away, electronic maps that work on phones that are often smaller than the pack of cigarettes my family would have been smoking, and lodgings that are air-conditioned with free WiFi, pools, gyms, and earn us points for discounts on other stuff. To believe that our travel experiences in the 2020s will be like those who will be following in our footsteps in the last decade of the 21st century is folly.

While we can glance back at the black and white images of “classic” cars traveling down Route 66 and gaze upon the old postcards of places that no longer exist, what is rare from that time is the narrative of where those travelers were intellectually as they embarked on adventures into places that were exceedingly distant in ways other than distance. Our world, on the other hand is instantly available where we can easily find what time sunrise will be a year into the future. We can drag an icon onto a map and travel down the street to see a place before ever being physically present, and we can read the reviews of people from around the globe who extoll the delights of a restaurant or hotel or heap disdain upon the service that didn’t match the quality of what they’re familiar with from their far-away home.

The idea that the pampering of travelers and how well they were treated by those feeding, sheltering, or otherwise offering them services should be the core subject of what constitutes an immersive experience is tragically simple-minded, repulsive even. The primary subject of importance in travel is how the individual grows. But such is the nature of our social idolatry in a time where we are the fetish and demand that others worship us while we bask in perceived luxury. For Caroline and I, the intellectual and emotional aspects of travel are the most important, we are astonished that others are available on our behalf to make our explorations so simple and relatively comfortable. We are out here to honor our potential to gather knowledge and experience what remains of our cities, forests, oceans, museums, trails, and the earth in general.

The absolute miracle of having lived so long and seen so much is not lost on us; we are grateful that this peculiarity is our truth and is still an ongoing adventure with infinite potential. Many people who’ve learned about our next travel plans wish us good luck in seeing things or having favorable conditions for the duration of our sojourn into a place, and yet, I believe I can claim without exaggeration that none have ever commented on the opportunity for us to return as more enlightened people who were able to sample something from the depths of human experience that helped the romanticized heroes of the past gain immortality in their own observations outside of their routine. Do others not travel with expectations of discovering intellectual magic extracted from the immense beauty of thrusting one’s self into new experiences? We are not trophy hunters; we are too ravenous to know ourselves better than to waste our time on egos.

The Cavern – Part II

August 19, 2023 JWise Photo of the Day, Travels

Rotunda Room at Kartchner Caverns in Benson, Arizona

At the beginning of this year, we visited Kartchner Caverns for an after-hours tour of the Big Room. Today, we are once again on our way to Kartchner except this time we are heading into the Throne Room. Our January visit was incredibly impactful. This special photography tour had us linger for more than two hours in a place that typically does not allow visitors to stand and gaze at anything, let alone take pictures. With the Big Room closed in deference to a bat colony that’s busy doing bat things at this time of year, we were offered the opportunity to gather more grand impressions.

Rotunda Room at Kartchner Caverns in Benson, Arizona

This post is being constrained by a lack of time, though. When I sat down to write about our experience in the Big Room some eight months ago, I had little idea that it would become my second longest post at over 10,000 words of yammering on about the kind of shite I tend to write when unleashed. Even this bit of rambling is occurring prior to our departure for the 180-mile drive south. Right now, it is still Friday morning while I try to get a jump start on the writing because I have a hard stop time arriving on Monday when we will shift dimensions. More about our dimensional shift in the days to come.

Rotunda Room at Kartchner Caverns in Benson, Arizona

As I mentioned in my post featuring our “Balcony Bat,” this blogging stuff wasn’t supposed to be happening at this time but seeing how I’ll have only posted three missives over the previous 30 days, I’d consider that a solid amount of time off from posting stuff. As of a week ago, I’d forgotten about the rather pricey reservation we’d made just a couple of days after our previous visit, and while Caroline asked about canceling our “last minute” obligation, I’m more inclined to take advantage of this rare opportunity to enter the Throne Room and photograph it. Well, that’s about it for what I’m adding to this post here on Friday; more will follow in the minutes prior to our departure, I hope.