The Joy of Travel

There are many joys in traveling – the joy of novelty, the joy of solitude and that of togetherness, the joy of losing yourself and reinventing, the joy of flouting rules, the joy of reaching somewhere and that of going somewhere. And finally the joy of reminiscing the beautiful moments. This blog is to capture all these joys.
A poem from Elizabeth Bishop, puzzles over the attraction travel holds….

Is it right to be watching strangers in a play in this strangest of theatres?
What childishness is it that while there’s a breath of life in our bodies, we
are determined to rush to see the sun the other way around?

The tiniest green hummingbird in the world?

To stare at some inexplicable old stonework, inexplicable and impenetrable, at any view, instantly seen and always, always delightful?

Oh, must we dream our dreams and have them, too?

And have we room for one more folded sunset, still quite warm?

But surely it would have been a pity not to have seen the trees along this road, really exaggerated in their beauty,

not to have seen them gesturing like noble pantomimists, robed in pink.
–Not to have had to stop for gas and heard the sad, two-noted, wooden tune of
disparate wooden clogs carelessly clacking over a grease-stained filling-station
floor.

(In another country the clogs would all be tested. Each pair there would
have identical pitch.)

A pity not to have heard the other, less primitive music of the fat brown bird who sings above the broken gasoline pump in a bamboo church of Jesuit baroque: three towers, five silver crosses.

Yes, a pity not to have pondered, blurr’dly and inconclusively, on what connection can exist for centuries between the crudest wooden footwear and, careful and finicky, the whittled fantasies of wooden footwear and, careful and finicky, the whittled fantasies of wooden cages.
Never to have studied history in the weak calligraphy of songbirds’ cages.
And never to have had to listen to rain so much like politicians’ speeches: two hours of unrelenting oratory and then a sudden golden silence in which the traveller takes a notebook, writes:

“Is it lack of imagination that makes us come to imagined places, not just stay at home? Or could Pascal have been not entirely right about just sitting quietly in one’s room?

Continent, city, country, society: the choice is never wide and never free. And here, or there . . . No. Should we have stayed at home, wherever that may be?”

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4 Comments Add yours

  1. Ravi says:

    Your blog is brilliant ! And you take some great snaps too…. looking forward to many more in future

    RSK

  2. Ada says:

    Hi there,

    I’m sorry but I was unable to catch your name here at your website. Your travel blog is really interesting and I was wondering if you’d be interested with a link exchange. My name is Ada and I work for WanderingTrader.com. It’s a travel blog that has been around for a year or so. Do email me at the email address I provided to let me know whether or not you’re willing to do a link exchange.

    Thanks!

  3. Aparna Amte says:

    Hi there..I loved your writing and snaps. Wished to discuss a couple of things with you. Not able to find your email address. Can you please drop in a mail at aparna.amte@gmail.com
    Please note: We dont spam, nor will we entice you in an overnight money making scheme! We are just a Mumbai based start up looking for good travel content. Thats all there is to it! Thanks!

  4. Gopal Garg says:

    You seem to be a keen traveller who has travelled the world. http://adventurousgopal.wordpress.com/ is where I share my travelogues. I really enjoyed reading your experience. You inspire me. I hope to share lovely pictures like you some day.

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