Written: [my room] 5.45am 14th April
In our most trivial walks, we are constantly, though unconsciously, steering like pilots by certain well-known beacons and head-lands, and if we go beyond our usual course we still carry in our minds the bearing of some neighbouring cape; and not until we are completely lost, or turned round, - for a man needs only to be turned round once with his eyes shut in this world to be lost, - do we appreciate the vastness and strangeness of Nature. Every man has to learn the points of compass again as often as he awakes, whether from sleep or any abstraction. Not until we are lost, in other words, not until we have lost the world, do we begin to find ourselves, and realise where we are and the infite extent of our relations.
Thoreau - "Walden" pg. 111
This is probably of one of my favourite parts of Walden so far. The very obvious metaphor of being lost in the woods vs. lost in life/the world brings up so many associations. His comment about 'appreciating the vastness and strangeness of Nature' is spot on and extends not just to nature but the world itself. Why do people like to travel? And even then, why do people like to get lost in a city as a key part of their travel experience?
They call travel 'broadening your horizons' but it does so not just because you are not in the old place. You have lost the familiarity and routine of home and you are forced to learn anew how to navigate in a foreign land. This is why the concepts of 'challening yourself' and going 'outside your comfort zone' are so common - hence why people want to get lost in a city and donig something like going to a small Finnish town for seven months after living in Bombay your whole life is just getting lost but in more than the geographical sense. But in order to learn and fully appreciate your surroundings it is also important not to freak out. Because if you focus on emotions of fear or frustration then you are nto taking in the experience of all your senses. This is why Zen Buddhism concepts of moment-to-moment awareness and living in the present make so much sense.
The metaphor can be bigger still, what if getting lost entails not just the routine related to your geographical location and support network but the entire routine by which you navigate through your life? Thoreau says a man needs only to be turned round once in this world to get lost and that is so very true. One momentous event is enough to shake someone to the point where they lose all direction and must 'relearn the compass'. Thoreau is saying that this can be good once in a while depending again, of course, on how the person responds. A man who loses direction must invariably find his bearings again. His destination - home - may be the same but his perspective on it may well be different.
Labels: literature, philosophy
Wirtten: [Costa Adliya] April 14th
For the main part I escaped wonderfully from these dangers, either by proceeding at once boldly and without deilbration to the goal, as is recommended to those who run the gantlet, like Orpheus, who 'Loudly singing the praises of the gods to his lyre, drowned the voices of the Sirens, and kept out of danger.'
Thoreau - "Walden", pg. 110
Here Thoreau is talking about unplelasant civilities of some type. Having to greet villagers and accept or decline their invitations. The 'gantlet' is indeed a part of life but need not always be viewed as negatively or with such cynicism as the venomous Thoreau with his disdain for the common man. There is something to be said for being pleasant and friendly and civil to people even if it means being bored. Having people like you gives powerful recourse to emotional wellbeing and achievement and is important for being a functioning member of society, which Thoreau also shuns entirely.
I prefer to take the more Machiavellian/utilitarian approach to people. Make them happy, make them like you and it will be better for you. Or the Gandhi/Mother Teresa approach stemming from a fundamental love and respect for mankind.
Either way I think comparing base civilities upon which normal social conversation rests to Orpheus and the Sirens is really very extreme.
Labels: literature, people, philosophy
Written: [Tunis Carthage Airport] 12.30pm April 6th
And with one 'shukran' and a mispronounecd 'cappucin' I'm back in the Arab world again. "Sa'a kam law sama7t?". He tells me its 11.30am Algerian time and 12.30pm Tunis time. Yet again I feel strangely comfortable, even in North Africa which is not much like the other Arab countries I already know and love.
After 2 weeks of thinking and talking in Spanish, it's hard to switch back to even the basic Arabic that I know but I feel I'm shifting back into the Arab frame of mind. Time to relax, have a laugh, share a few pleasantries and not take life too seriously - the latter coming easy for an Australian. And of Spain? A camera full of memories, a shitload of souvenirs and another heart full of longing. The food was mostly terrible, the coffee mostly excruiciatingly bad, but the people often friendly and always boisterous.
The marked differences between Spaniards and Italians were in my face the whole way. More funky, flamboyant, unrestricted and free. Barcelona was teeming with subcultures, lesbians, punks, goths, hippies, arty kids, lefties, preppies... the list goes on.
The cities did not have as much character in their streets as in Italy but their distinctions very much lay in the character of the people.
Labels: italy, people, spain, travel
Written: [Sevilla] April 4th 2.45am
The Andalusian capital and home of flamenco, bull runs and the best ever Santa Semana. Haven't seen much of those three but certainly loving the freedom and chilledness of the Spanish South. Streets are busy, places are open, people are boisterous well into the night. The food and coffee has been disappointing, like everywhere else we've been in Spain, but the vibe is fantastic and the narrow warrens and cobblestoned streets of the Old Town are some of the best in Spain.
The beauty of the Alcazar is also unrivalled so far, the gardens, tiling, architecture and meticulous attention to detail are sheer beauty. I could spend days exploring and chilling the plazas and jardins. The Catedral rises up like an eerie Dracula's castle at night, a massive Gothic monument to Christianity. It still incorporates the 90m minaret of the old mosque which it replaced and some reinassance period elements from the reconstruction. The inside of the main prayer hall is far from spectacular, however, and rather like any other big church.
This area with the Alcazar and the Catedral is really beautiful. At night when there is no one around and just the dim street lighting and the moonlight, to walk through this area is like a dream. During the day, the area is crowded with tourists but still the few small plazas and street bars around serve as good platforms for people watching and monument gazing. The incessant ringing of the bells is at first atmospheric but subsequently rather annoying. As are the hoardes of schoolkid tour groups. The beautiful weather, however, makes everything ok.
I love my red havaianas but am lusting for more shoes.
I also love tiles. Am buying too many souvenirs, far too many.
This Hotel Abanico is beautiful.
pg. 74 Walden
When Thoreau describes his surroundings in the woods it is very engaging and beautiful. In his section 'sounds' he does this, and discusses the old Eastern concept of being constantly aware of the moment, employing all senses to observe, etc. It's a powerfully appealing concept and coupled with his descriptive writing (which he does very well) is a strong impetus for personal change in this direction - but that requires much discipline, that which I'm bad at. Could use writing as a means to achieve this better...
Labels: architecture, literature, philosophy, sevilla, travel
Written: [Barcelona] 8.45pm 28th March
Starbucks in the Barri Goti with Sinatra painfully but melodiously churning through love songs. After a day of random meandering which started off with a trip to the hospital in search of medical help for my conjunctivitis (my conversational ability in Spanish surprised myself) and a bunch of Gaudis (the double take at La Sagrada Familia was particularly memorable), my mood worsened as we headed back to La Rambla and selected a rather unfortunate restaurant - Gaudi's Tapas or something equally tourist enticing. It felt like a quasi-English pub with bad service and overpriced food. No tip. The warrens of la Ciutat Vella continue to toss up gems but unfortunately, in the very Murphy's Law sense, never the ones we seem to need at the time. So after a half bottle of Rioja, we were too sleepy to search and settled on the comfort of Starbucks. After milky coffee, cake and a cigarette, the sofa seems a good place to sleep, or to at least read Walden.
It is something to be able to paint a particular picture, or to carve a statue, and so to make a few objects beautiful; but it is far more glorious to carve and paint the very atmosphere and medium through which we look. To affect the quality of the day, that is the highest of arts.
Page 59, Henry David Thoreau - "Walden"
To a philosopher all news, as it is called, is gossip, and they who edit and read it are old women over their tea!
Page 61, Henry David Thoreau - "Walden"
While the former quote is inspiring, I'm not sure if I agree with the latter. This attitude to current affairs has been exhibited by a number of philosophers as they believe their ideas transcend that of the normal populace. However, I find this arrogant. Alain de Botton has it right when he makes philosophy for the common man. What is the good of philosophy if it cannot enrich people's lives? And what is the good of being of an enormous intellect if you cannot use it to affect the people around you positively? And how could you do this without understanding what goes on in the day-to-day goings on of the world? On the other hand, the reality of popular media these days is indeed embarassing and far from awe-inspiring. There are very few newspapers and even fewer television news programs which are impartial enough to be reliable. The rest are controlled by corporations and the people's fickle demand for sensational information.
Labels: architecture, Barcelona, literature, philosophy, travel, world happenings
Written: [Barcelona] 11.50pm 27th March
At a certain season of our life we are accustomed to consider every spot as a possible site of a house. Wherever I sat, there I might live, and the landscape radiated from me accordingly.'Pg. 53 Henry David Thoreau -
"Walden"
An interesting meditation to read now when I'm travelling. I've often imagined living in the places I travel to, comparing Rome to Barcelona, Melbourne to Bahrain.
Barcelona does grip me as a city and even moreso as a possible place to live than Rome, in all its historical splendour. The people here seem more youthful and free, without so much societal constraint. It's almost as if the Romans are weighed down by their history, politics, statuses and expectations. Walking through the, some narrow, some wide, streets of Barcelona that appear to be teeming with life, I am drawn to every colourful shopfront and every noisy tapas bar. I am drawn to its diverse inhabitants all chattering away in their beautiful language.
I am drawn to a balcony in an old gothic building, one I can make my own with pot plants and vines, that I can smoke, read and voyeurise on with a loved one or alone as Barcelonian ants crawl around below. I have a strong urge to discover every nook and cranny of this city, the best cafes, edgiest bars, most delectable delicacies and those shops that stock the one thing you want at a particular time. I romanticise about the idea of being one of those Spaniards with their funky glasses and fashionable haircuts, joking with their friends and kissing their novias.
The Romans were a stylish, poised and attractive bunch but the Barcelonians, them I could fall in love with.
Labels: Barcelona, literature, people, philosophy, travel
