The Case for Travel

and how a trip can be like a conversation

I'm currently sitting on a train from Milan to Munich. My wife and I are on a 10-day trip.

I was telling her a day or two ago how I'm a little embarrassed to say how highly stressful it is for me to travel in a country where I don't speak the language. It limits me to be so stressed out over it. I say "no" to things that I might like to try, just because I'm afraid of not understanding something correctly, or of not being understood.

As it happens, one almost doesn't need to speak Italian to get around just fine in Milan, as pretty much everyone we encountered spoke English, and even most of the written material -- menus, signage, etc -- is duplicated in English. Add to that the fact that, even if there's no written English, it's often pretty easy to figure out the jiist of what is written in Italian if you've just watched the Godfather movies or the Sopranos series.

Nevertheless, I definitely feel somewhat disconnected from much of the social discourse around me because I don't speak Italian. I'm not insecure or paranoid enough to think that people are talking about me or anything, but I do feel like I sometimes miss important, useful, or interesting information by not being able to overhear people around me -- even if I'm not actively eavesdropping.

I'll bet the day is not far off where I can put my earbuds in, pull up an app on my iPhone, and have Italian translated to me in my ears in real-time. while my phone translates my English responses in Italian out loud. Might already exist -- I just haven't worked it out yet.

And while I'm bearing my fears, I should point out again that we're on our way to Munich. I am actually even a little more nervous heading to Germany, despite the fact that I speak passable German.

German was actually my first language. My parents immigrated to the US as young adults. My dad was already speaking English by the time my mom came over (they met in Germany... long story), but Mom didn't speak a word of English. It didn't matter much to her because we lived in a German neighborhood in New York where everyone spoke German. My mom learned English by watching "her stories" on TV -- that is, soap operas. As a consequence of all this, I pretty much spoke only German until I started going to Kindergarten ("Kindergarten" -- the irony is thick).

The point is that, while German is technically my first language, and even though my parents sent me to "German school" on the weekends until I was about 12 to keep my German up, I haven't spoken fluent German since I was about 7, when we started speaking English around the house.

Here's my point. I'm actually even more nervous heading to Germany, because I'm supposed to be able to speak German. In Italy, while I always feel a little guilty that I don't speak any Italian beyond "Gracie," in Germany I feel a personal expectation that I should be able to converse. Also I think my wife thinks it's sexy.

So. what does this have to do with Understanding On Purpose? I feel like there's a connection.

It's hard enough for two people who speak the same language to understand each other sometimes. This is why there's a whole self-help industry around couples' therapy. It's why politics is so confusing and dirty and frustrating. It's why diplomats and mediators and lawyers have jobs and are very well-paid.

But when people don't even have a common language to leverage, several things happen.

First. one side switches to the language of the other, if that's available. Then, the conversation can usually only go as deep as the language skills of the "foreign" speaker's skills allow.

Many years ago, an ex-girlfriend and I had a pretty lengthy negotiation over price with a street vendor in Greece by using a hand-held calculator. He punched in a number, I scrunched my nose and punched in a lower one, and back and forth we went until we agreed.

Another time, same ex-girlfriend, we were seeking directions in Jerusalem (this was waaaay before GPS and cell phones) from someone who did not speak passable English. My ex spoke some Spanish and some Dutch, but that didn't help. But our "guide" did speak some German. Whoo Hoo!

I guess my point is that, for two people to communicate, there has to be a common language. Furthermore, the conversation is limited to the highest level of common language between the speakers.

And THAT, I think, is where our problem is, much of the time.

Even if there is trust, and a sincere desire to learn rather than win, we still run up against our limitations of common language.

Munich...

We spend a few days in Munich, and we're on our way back to Milan. Since it's early December, our trip was dominated by wandering around the various marketplaces, filled with people and overflowing with vendors selling food, drinks, gifts, etc. Our regular daily stop was at a Suppenküche (soup kitchen) that served amazing soups and curries. Hi had my favorite -- Goulaschsuppe (essentially beef soup) -- three days in a row.

I was generally more comfortable in Munich than in Milan, because everywhere I looked I could read the signs -- even the ones in outright English, or with English translations. I spoke German whenever there was an interaction to have, but most of the time people would answer me back in English. This happened less and less as our time went on, probably because I was getting more confident in my German. But, in general, I don't think I ever ran into anyone whose English wasn't better than my German.

The lessons for me included: speak more German. At the very least, even if I don't get the chance to speak German very often in my home town of Roanoke, Virginia, there's no reason I couldn't read German on a regular basis, or listen to audio books.

As it happens, I've started making my way through an audio book in German, having bought the German paperback so that I can read along with it. If I get stuck, I can translate the page with an app on my phone -- it's almost instantaneous, and almost flawless. That is to say it's friggin' magic. My kids have no idea.

Another interesting part of this section of our journey was that I found myself thinking in German. Even dreaming in German. When I do speak what little German I can speak, I do so without translating from English, in my head. A legacy of my childhood, I imagine.

So... when people communicate about anything -- even in the same spoken language -- I wonder how much of this is going on in their heads?

I'm pretty sure that liberals don't speak native conservative, or vice-versa. I'm pretty sure that, even when liberals and conservatives meet with a sincere intent to communicate and collaborate (which I hope will become more and more common) -- even then I suspect that they are each translating to the other's native tongue.

Most of the time, I think the conversation is more like one that I witnessed many years ago in Genoa, Italy. My wife and I were on our honeymoon -- a cruise. One of the ports of call took us to Genoa, and we had made a habit of going shoe-shopping. My wife likes shoes -- something I didn't know about her before we got married.

Anyway, the fun part about shoe-shopping was not the buying of shoes (trust me). The fun part was in trying to communicate with the salespeople about what we were looking for.

One time, there was this guy in the store... I'm 6'2", and was taller. And bigger around the middle -- a middle that was adorned with a big leather belt and a huge belt buckle. He wore cowboy boots and a cowboy hat. You guessed it -- from Texas.

He was berating the poor saleswomen in the store -- none of whom spoke English -- in a loud, brash, unapologetically entitled and even more arrogant Texan voice: "LOAFERS! Don'tsh'all know what loafers are?" I found myself apologizing on America's behalf.

Anyway, here's a guy who was clearly not trying to speak "their" language, but expecting them to speak his. Ultimately, both parties left the conversation unsatisfied and disliking each other. They didn't make a sale, and he didn't get his damed loafers.

I'm not sure this particular guy would have gotten what he wanted anywhere but Dallas. If you don't try to understand others and simply expect them to understand you, then your options are limited.

The Case Against Travel

I just finished reading an article in The New Yorker entitled "The Case Against Travel." It made me think.

My wife and I were having a bit of a discussion along the same lines just yesterday, after sitting at an hour-long train station delay late at night, which was preceded by a 6-hour train ride, and would be followed by an adventure trying to get into an apartment we'd never been to using cryptic instructions. The conversation was: "what do we really like about traveling?"

I had a similar conversation many years ago in Kings Canyon, California. Our group had hiked down a savage set of switchbacks, descending 2000 feet in less than a mile, in blistering heat wearing full packs. We sat there, aching and breathless at the bottom of the valley in the dead air asking "what do we like about hiking?" There was mostly silence, but the answer eventually came back when one of us said: "I know! I like it." And we all agreed.

The New Yorker article cited several well-known philosophers and the argument they make against traveling. What I came away from it with was that if you travel as a "tourist" -- disconnected from the people and places you visit and unchanged in the end between when you embarked on your trip and when you returned -- then not only does it do you no good, it actually doesn't serve the people and places you're visiting.

I am not a "traveler" in the sense of the word that I respect. To me, true travelers are at home on the road, have less of an intention to return "home," and even support themselves on the road. They are true nomads, if only temporarily. I've never actually traveled in this sense. I've "gone on vacation." I've been a tourist -- as we are on this trip.

Why do we do it? Several reasons. We like a change. We like to see different sites, hear different languages, eat different foods. We like to get away from our usual routines for a bit; engage somehow with a completely different set of distractions. We like to fill our minds with stuff that's different than the usual stuff, at least for a while.

We also like challenging ourselves -- just enough, but not too much. A little adventure, but not an ordeal. Last night was an example. Had we not been able to negotiate our entry into the apartment we'd reserved, we could have been "homeless" for a night -- wandering around Milan, not able to speak the language, in the cold rain, lugging luggage, not sure we could even find a place to spend the night. But we solved our problems, high-fived each other for our cleverness and luck, and made a memory.

Will I be any different when we get back home than when we left? I think so. A little. I feel an increased sense of confidence in being able to navigate uncertainty in a foreign country. I am slightly more willing to ask for help when I need it. I have eaten some amazing food and will learn to cook some of it myself. I have written this article, and it has enhanced my perspective about understanding other human beings.

By that assessment, I suppose I've been slightly more than a tourist.

Perhaps a deep conversation is a little like traveling. If you engage in what you call a conversation, but have no real intention to allow yourself to change -- or, worse yet, actively resist it (see "loafers," above), then not only are you doing yourself no good, but you're probably abusing the person you're conversing with.

If however, you allow yourself to experience something different, maybe you'll come back home again with a new recipe, or a new skill. Certainly some kind of new perspective.