Popular Travel

Think of this as an invitation to travel, where the people in far-flung places are the first items on the itinerary, and their famous places are the second. I don't mean necessarily that we should go and knock on a stranger's door as soon as we arrive in Paris or Casablanca and introduce ourselves. What I do mean is that we travel to places and enter cultures with a people-centered perspective. If doing that means changing our attitude about travel, we'll be dazzled by the change.

Let's think about every place we've dreamed of going, near or far, of where we'd go and what we'd do. The sights, the sounds, the aromas. Now remove from that image all the residents of that place. Focus on what remains. When you do, I would venture to bet a lot of round trip air fares that the daydream goes muddy.

Unless your destination is a national park or a UNESCO World Heritage site, then you'll soon realize as I did, that your favorite destinations lose their color and life at the thought of absented people. Venice for example, the city beloved for its water-locked beauty, it mysterious serpentine streets, the Doge's Palace, the canals, and magical architecture. Delete the Venetians, who live and work in and around the city. Delete any contact with them, all appreciation for the Italian language and the lyrical Venetian dialect, their knowledge and memory of life there, their skills, their personal and regional histories, their way of preparing and eating food, their greetings as you walk their streets. And just like that, our magical city becomes an international theme park with some beautiful museums and gorgeous blown glass. A slow ride in a water taxi along the Grand Canal without a friendly, chatty pilot from Mestre suddenly isn't any grander than a ride in an ersatz gondola at a hotel in Vegas.

Recapturing the dream doesn't require drastic action. You're not obliged to learn the local language, although certainly a few phrases would be thoughtful. And as a linguist, I can't emphasize enough the joys of communication; but, what's most necessary is a dash of an explorer's sense of wonder, and an open heart that's given a few moments of recollection to let the words, the lessons, and the lives around it touch and sink into the openings. Then, and only then, will the miracle perform. Everyone from our Venice, Paris, Casablanca or Khartoum will be able to fit inside us, as soon as we set foot on their soil. The grand and unknown will shrink and recognize. Venice's name might change to "Giuseppe from the gallery" or "Marco the super friendly water taxi pilot" or "Gigina who lived across the calle from us."

Our places becomes people, and we carry them home. They live on with a kind of bilocation, there where they are, and here in us.