Hey, what happened to the virtual tours?

Tonight I reread some of my older posts, and realized that I started this blog with fairly detailed descriptions of cities and locations, and in the last week or so have shifted almost completely to impressionistic psychoanalysis, or something like it.

I hope this doesn’t too badly disappoint anyone who wanted a written travel show. I have the ability, from time to time, to deliver that sort of experience, but it seems my energy lies in another direction.


In addition, the last couple of weeks I have had a few too many moments that felt prescribed, rehearsed, as if I had composed a list of Things That I Have to Do and See On This Trip, which I was then obligated to deliver a report upon. I think I commented in an earlier post upon the feeling of rushing from place to place, which is partly a product of my unintended “Must Experience _____” impulse.

For instance, I just spent three days in Firenze, but I barely have any feelings or thoughts about it. From an accounting perspective, this makes no sense:

• I visited the Duomo (huge! Big dome! etc)
• I visited Palazzo Vecchio (ornate! Great views! Much art!)
• I visited the Uffizi (Birth of Venus by Botticelli! Countless scupltures! Michelangelo and Caravaggio! Donatello! On and on!)
• I visited Museo Galileo (I won’t mock this because it was my hands-down favorite visit)
• I visited Basilica di Santa Maria Novella (This was my second favorite and I’ll explain why in a moment)

Clearly, many activities were undertaken. Why am I not writing lengthy essays about each of these, and the dozen other things I have seen since the last time I devoted a whole post to one thing (I believe that was La Alhambra)?

I have theories, for what that is worth:

• Perhaps at this point I have had enough of cathedrals - there seems to have been a serious, historical competition in Europe to make the biggest church-thing, and at a certain point (I am a bit ashamed to admit) I just get tired of the constantly-accelerating opulence. As far as writing goes, then, I may have run out of interest in some subjects.
• Another thought is that I have not paid for a tour, recorded or live, of anything since before La Alhambra - so I am experiencing everything in childish ignorance, and simply don’t have as much to say.
• I might be unconsciously doing things just to say I did them; only because, as a traveler, I anticipate judgment from my own future self if I do not visit certain places. Also, I might feel a vague sense of duty to theoretically disappointed friends and family, who may chastise me later for not doing/seeing X/Y/Z. Therefore, I might not be blogging about these experiences as an equally unconscious way to loosen the knots of the “duty” element that has kidnapped some of my travel time and locked it in a closet.
• A more specific and practical possibility, at least with regard to Firenze - I did not have a pleasant host, and that energy reflected upon everything else I did. I suspect that the arrangement was strictly economical, a way for her to afford a very large, three-bedroom apartment just 100 paces from the Arno river, which she appeared to have all to herself (excepting guests). When I first arrived she was out on the town (even though we had previously scheduled my arrival time), so I stood outside her door for fifteen minutes, holding all my luggage, waiting for her to get back home (five minutes after letting me in she left again). She was not personable, answered questions only when asked, did not offer any information about the city or herself. When I entered a room she sometimes didn’t acknowledge my presence and always left as quickly as possible. This cold tone in my short-term home pervaded the rest of Firenze, and it showed me how important a good connection with my local host has become to me.

As I have observed before, this travel experience is as much (if not more) about the people as it is about the places: myself, everyone I meet, and whatever flowers, baby animals, puffy clouds, cooking scents and musical notes emerge in the space between us.

A checklist of accomplishments is an assembly line product - impersonal, sterile, unrewarding. If I just wanted a list, I could have stayed at home, written a list, put a checkmark beside each item, and sat back to admire my work. “Better,” I could probably find an app that would create and manage this list for me and completely spare me the personal experience.

NO!

Virtual tours are now a dime a dozen. Everyone has seen the Birth of Venus in one reproduction or another, everyone knows the name “Sistine Chapel,” everyone can look up a hundred thousand pictures of the Roman Forum. Will I still attempt to visit some of these places? Absolutely, if my gut tells me it really needs to be there. Then, upon digesting the experience, if my gut proceeds to tell me to tell you about it, I will gladly do this as well.

And here is why my walk through the Basilica di Santa Maria Novella resonated with me in a way that a world-renowned art gallery did not. As I entered, I realized my phone was very low on battery, and I also realized I was relieved by this fact. I could not, and did not want to, take a lot of pictures. I decided to take zero pictures, and to deny the creature that has been telling me to document everything so that I can keep up with my checklist of proofs that I am conducting this trip "well." I refused access to the intermediaries, the arbitrators: duty and technology. They were not welcome to this conversation between me and the Basilica, so it was just the two of us, speaking to one another in intimate whispers.

In conclusion, I apologize but I don’t apologize for the dearth of travel site narrative (and I am willing to bet most of those reading this don’t mind anyway). My gut is currently more interested in the interpersonal moments and impressionistic psychoanalysis, and so I hope that you will continue to pursue that storyline with me. :-)