This blog began in 2009 and has grown sporadically with thoughts about masculism and travels. In 2016 my sons and I drove to a monastery in the pyrenees, and I hope one day my daughter will want to travel together: “Something about boys and girls”. Latterly M has started to post about his travels, and I hope that in a thousand years our words will still be accessible and continued by our descendants – Imshallah.
Whilst I think masculism and feminism have different agendas which merit their own space, and sexual equality has yet a very long way to go, I believe (ridiculously optimistically) that gender, along with colour, faith, ability and political persuasion, should be cause for creativity and celebration, rather than division, inequality and conflict.
Vive la difference, it goes to make things more interesting.
Someone in China once encouraged every traveller with: “Don’t be afraid of moving slowly, be frightened only of standing still” and Einstein thought :”life is like riding a bicycle. To keep your balance you must keep moving”, but moving can be addictive.
I was 19 when I first set out from the UK, hitchhiking through France, Spain and around Morocco leaving behind unsuccessful schooling and familial angst. Back then I was a purist, more traveller than tourist, taking little more than a rucksack, blanket, and drumsticks. No camera to capture the experience, or shoes to interpret the road. But over the years those memories have dulled and depleted .
In the film Blade Runner, Roy Batty (Rutger Hauer) laments how all his experience will be lost when he dies, but perhaps it’s their very impermanence that makes memories all the more precious and human. The tension of Roy’s final speech isn’t broken by him rifling through a box of old photos or scrolling through the camera roll on his iphone, just as Deckard (Harrison Ford) isn’t distracted by keeping the rain of his lens. The scene’s poignant because Roy’s final act is fleeting and selfless: saving Deckard’s life (albeit to have an audience).
Though we increasingly capture and share memories in photographs, their meaning is partly anchored within us and partly defined by the viewer. Maybe allowing these views to fade, celebrates both our transience making them more beautiful.
Digital mementos will likely survive far into the future, unlike those from the analogue age (Imagine Pinterest in a thousand years). From now on our experiences will be frozen in ones and zeros: thoughts and perspectives, framed by the mind, mediated through the senses, instantiated in words and images, caught on the Web.
Though much has changed over the 33 years since that first trip, I still believe in the pre-eminence of experience. However, just as a young wine matures into a more interesting vintage, I now better appreciate how experience is enhanced by being fashioned into narrative, edited down and occasionally “Photoshopped”. These days I travel with two cameras.
For those here now and those to come, bon voyage and best of luck with your stories.