[dropcap]Traveling to Ladakh[/dropcap] was all accident that summer. One morning, while dithering about where to go, my eye drifted up the map to a dot marked Leh. A small name for a giant dream. I had always wanted to travel there, the capital of the ancient Himalayan kingdom of Ladakh. Remote, virtually unreachable, a land as much of myth as of reality, home to tales by Kipling and the epic feats of long gone Buddhist monks, a place better dreamed of than traveled to. I knew little about it, yet for years it had held a tenacious grip on a corner of my imagination. Quietly, I had been telling myself that one day I must go there.
God damn, this story about travel to Ladakh is a good piece of writing. So good that it inspired me to start sharing things I’ve enjoyed again. I’m partial, to be sure, because I traveled in Ladakh in 1982 and still think about it, but also, damn, it’s soooo good. Read it.
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[dropcap]All[/dropcap] these trips would have easily covered the cost of a major kitchen renovation as well as several other home upgrades, for our house is old and crumbling in some places plus we would increase our property value. But we have postcards, not an open-concept kitchen with granite counter tops. We have great cocktail party stories about getting lost in Tokyo and biking Quebec, not new bathroom tile. I sometimes wonder if the frequency of our travels gives the false impression that we are rich, and here’s where the thoughts on money come in.
A piece entitled “Why ‘Don’t Worry About Money, Just Travel’ Is the Worst Advice of All Time” made the rounds of the travel bubble last week. The headline’s hyperbolic, sure, but I agreed with it — there’s just so much lifestyle bullshit appended to writing about travel. I liked Katrina Woznicki’s response; I’ve developed a great respect and appreciation for people who are forthright about their economics when it comes to talking about travel. Defensive types will say “Why is my bank balance anyone’s business?” Because you’re giving advice about finance, pal, and you don’t know my situation at all, so if you want me to take you seriously, I need to know where you’re coming from. I like to think that as travelers, we instinctively understand that everyone’s circumstances are so different, but no.
Not everyone can travel. Shut up, already.
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[dropcap]If[/dropcap] you are asleep, you are where every other sleeping man is, and that is nowhere. I didn’t pay 158 dollars to be nowhere.
And I’ll look down at the tracks and feel the fear of knowing how fast I’m moving, just standing still.
I love Twitter, in spite of the fact that it’s been co-opted with marketing bots and littered with ads and cluttered with hashtags that are supposed to “raise awareness” of something I didn’t know I didn’t want. It’s still a great medium for making new connections and chattering with friends and sharing links, but there’s something great about the way people who are good with words use it when they’re traveling. It’s like haiku; when you’re restricted so much by form, every word counts.
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The apple in the photo came from the tree in my front yard. I shot it on my kitchen table with my newest toy, the Panasonic DMC-ZS40K
The link is an affiliate link which means if you buy through it, I get a kickback, but it doesn’t cost you any more.
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