Seeing It for Myself
THE TOPIC OF TRAVEL pops up occasionally on HumbleDollar, and I’ve even written about my own travels. The reasons for not traveling go from “can’t afford” to “no interest.” I can understand “can’t afford.” But the “no interest” is a mystery to me. The only budget we have in retirement is for travel. It’s funded with our Social Security checks.
When I was in school decades ago, my favorite subject was history. That interest has never waned. Few days go by when I don’t watch a documentary on YouTube. Understanding history is vital. What happened in the past is how we arrived at our world today, both good and bad. I believe that, to understand the past, we must see it and feel it.
That has driven me to view firsthand where things happened, to stand on the spot where a major event took place, and to absorb the atmosphere of the location and its people. You won’t find us traveling to lounge on a beach somewhere, but you might see me where the Battle of Little Big Horn was fought, looking out from the highest point.
Several years ago in Sicily, we hired a driver to take us to the small village where my wife’s grandparents had lived. At the town hall, we obtained copies of their birth and marriage certificates, and visited the church where they were married. Even the town clerk was emotional when he gave the papers to my wife.
In the center of the town square was a monument with scores of names engraved. I assumed it was a war memorial. But in speaking with an old man, I learned it was people killed by the Mafia.
In Crimea, we walked the site of the Charge of the Light Brigade. My great, great grandfather fought in that war, before coming to America and joining the Union Army. In Ukraine, I touched the chair where Franklin Roosevelt sat at the Yalta Conference. When I watch footage from today’s war in Ukraine, I occasionally see places we’ve visited.
I’ve walked on Omaha Beach, into a gas chamber at Auschwitz and on Hadrian's Wall. I’ve kissed the Blarney Stone in Ireland and drank from the Fountain of Youth in St. Augustine, Florida—don’t rely on it.
For me, it was overwhelming to climb the Eiffel Tower, stand where Joan of Arc was executed, and walk among still-thriving 2,000-year-old olive trees in the Holy Land. On Malta, we visited a church bombed during World War II. The unexploded bomb still sits near the altar.
Overcoming claustrophobia, I entered an old bomb shelter in Malta. I also overcame my fear of close places to walk through the catacombs of Rome and enter what’s traditionally accepted as the tomb of Jesus in Israel.
Understanding our world is essential, and seeing and feeling it is important to that understanding. Three weeks in Russia provided a better understanding of a truly different culture, as did visiting Israel, and speaking with Palestinians and listening to their stories.
People in other parts of the world relate to Americans differently. One July 4th in Ireland, the driver decorated our bus with red, white and blue ribbons and American flags. It was quite a feeling. On the other hand, when flying out of Moscow, they let Russians jump ahead, seemingly making it as difficult as possible for us to leave—a somewhat scary feeling.
While visiting Edinburgh Castle, we walked on cobblestone lanes built by Colonial prisoners from the American Revolution. Sometimes, I just stand in a spot, trying to imagine the past.
Who knew I would walk among the penguins on the Falkland Islands, or speak with people who lived through the Falkland’s invasion in 1982? We’ve visited many European families in their homes, some poor and others well off. It can be very different from the way we Americans live, but always a good experience.
Once in the backcountry of Russia, we visited an old widow living in two rooms, sleeping on a cot in the mini kitchen and living on $250 a month. It makes you wonder what they think of “rich” Americans. Children aggressively wanted to sell us their crayon scribblings.
We always try local food. The best meal I ever had was in a home in Bordeaux. I can still taste the cassoulet—as I can the paella in Madrid, the octopus in Rome and the ox tails in… where was that? Don’t get me started on the farm in Italy, with its homemade pizza, rabbit stew and cannolis. On the other hand, don’t make the mistake of ordering a bacon omelet in Jerusalem.
Travel provides an education like no other. No book and no news report can capture the feeling of places and people. History teaches so many valuable lessons, and yet it’s often dismissed as no longer relevant. Every aspect of our lives is affected by the past, by some other place, by some other people.
Richard Quinn blogs at QuinnsCommentary.net. Before retiring in 2010, Dick was a compensation and benefits executive. Follow him on Twitter @QuinnsComments and check out his earlier articles.
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