Confessions of an introverted traveler
As a person who needs solitude more than I need friends, and loves to travel, I related to this article but, and a big but: the most memorable moments of my travels have come from accidental meetings with warm and interesting people.
While travelling in the US a decade ago I stayed in about 10 B&Bs and would have continued that way if it wasn’t becoming too expensive and a problem to book in the high season. Off hand, I think of the coy gay couples I met in Denver, the music nuts who ran a very friendly house in Albuquerque, the traditional-style womb-like house I was given in Taos (skylights, no windows; loved it), and the couple who made staying in a place as dull and unpeopled (after 5pm on a Friday) as Amarillo interesting. The places I remember most vividly in most of my travels are those where I did engage with people. If out sightseeing all day it is sweet to go to a place that resembles home at night — that’s exactly what young travellers love about backpacker digs and hostels. My worst experience — cos I followed the wrong advice — was finding myself (on Corfu) miles from anywhere with only American college students for company and a very aggressive social program: don’t dress up in a toga or whatever, don’t eat. (The Pink Palace is legendary for its “parties” and either loved or hated). Then, I have stayed in scores of dingy hotels and motels that were so nondescript they never registered in my memory. Quite likely the towns and cities I was visiting didn’t register much either unless i had gone to see something special — cos memory is largely visual: we remember beautiful, interesting and unique places, and people, and forget the rest. I must add that B&B would be the only way to go in New Zealand if you are older, have never been there and can afford a little luxury. NZ is about human warmth as much as it is about distinctive scenery and adventure tourism. If you stayed at B&Bs — and there are hundreds now — you would feel as though you’ve been taken into NZ’s bosom.;=)
This as an example of both Tindink’s craftsmanship and Peciacake’s photography — the two of them always worked well together.
Norwegian Arild Heitmann explains what went into this photo taken from inside an ice cave:
One of the falls i visited was still frozen. I decided to follow the river and try to find a way under the ice. Typically me… I found a tiny opening and squeezed my hot body inside. To get the angle i wanted i had to jump into the river. Some serious gymnast moves involved in this one. It was perhaps 30-40cm from the water and up to the ice cover. Banged my head and camera a few times. Shot a few frames and when i tried to exit i discovered that it was a lot worse getting out of this place. I could hear a loud and clear -POP- when my ass popped out of the cave….
Growing up in northern Norway, Arild Heitmann maybe had to be a photographer. Although I suppose some people there don’t notice the incredible beauty and simply grumble about the cold.
His photos (there are 272 in this collection) remind me of those I’ve seen from Iceland. Nature rules.
Reading Cloggo
Reading Cloggo’s posts is always an adventure.
For a man who has mostly stayed in one place all his life, he has been around — his imagination has made sure of that.
In the one yarn the gnarled old Yorkshireman can slip in a history lesson, with more than a sliver of autobiography, and (for example) a lecture on popular reading of the mid-20th century, which is ancient history to most people reading here. You really ought to look him up if you haven’t.
In this item, I learnt about the relationship between The Saint (as it should have been) and my beloved Avengers, Steed and Mrs Peel, and quite a lot about fetish cars into the bargain.