Jan

6 Bright Ideas for Traveling Light

by Joyce McGreevy on January 3, 2018

Light in a mosque in Istanbul, Turkey becomes a source of travel inspiration about traveling light. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

A moon-like circle of light illuminates a mosque in Istanbul.
© Joyce McGreevy

Travel Inspiration for 2018

With last night’s super moon, Earth’s annual journey around the sun has started on a light note. This January we get two full moons for the price of one. As the second moon of the month, January 31 is a blue moon. As moon glow lights up the skies, let’s reflect on lighthearted travel inspiration for 2018:

A sunset in Senglea, Malta becomes a source of travel inspiration about traveling light. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

When it’s sunset in Malta, will you really care which pair of shoes you packed?
© Joyce McGreevy

1: PACK LIGHTER THAN EVER.

This doesn’t mean alternating between two monochrome outfits crammed into a backpack. Just make sure you can easily carry your own bag. You’ll feel the benefit as you navigate subway staircases, hill towns, or that charming suite—on the top floor of the B&B without an elevator.

A staircase in Chicago presents a visual argument for traveling light, with a small suitcase. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

A Chicago staircase shows why it’s good to carry a small suitcase.
© Joyce McGreevy

How to start? Question the psychology of your packing. Are you bringing what you need or trying to anticipate every eventuality? Take only what you know you’ll need. If new needs arise, deal with them there just as you would here.

Next, rethink your approach to “What to Wear” checklists. Need a woolen sweater for Ireland? A swimsuit for Hawaii? A fashionable scarf for Paris? Guess which places have an abundance of such items?

Colorful fabrics in Plovdiv, Bulgaria remind a travel writer why traveling light takes restraint. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

Fabrics in Plovdiv, Bulgaria. Variety’s nice, but don’t try to pack your closet.
© Joyce McGreevy

Pack for a purpose. As a teenager, I once tried to cram the contents of my closet into multiple suitcases. That’s when my dad, an airline pilot, asked me a life-altering question: “Are you traveling mainly to see or to be seen?”

2: LIGHTEN YOUR LOAD TO HELP OTHERS.

Before you return, donate what you no longer need: Clothing and outdoor gear whose practicality doesn’t extend to your home environment. Books, maps, and magazines. Unopened toiletries you never got around to using.

A charity shop in Elephant and Castle, London becomes a source of travel inspiration about traveling light. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

At a thrift store in London, donated goods generate funds for a local nonprofit.
© Joyce McGreevy

Another change worth making: Stop lugging home foreign coins. Instead, donate them at the airport or onboard your flight. Change for Good, a partnership between UNICEF and several airlines, has generated $150 million this way to improve children’s lives around the world.

3: LIGHTEN UP ABOUT TRAVEL GLITCHES.

We think of savvy travelers as good planners. But it’s more important to be good adapters. When you love something that involves changes of scene, modes of transportation, and new experiences, you’re saying yes to the unexpected.

At some point, a suitcase will go to Iceland instead of Ireland. You’ll choose the aisle seat and end up in the middle. You’ll order fish and get something that resembles sea-monster intestines.

eattle-Tacoma International Airport becomes a source of travel inspiration about traveling light. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

At airports like this one in Seattle, the beauty–and the blahs–of travel go hand-in-hand.
© Joyce McGreevy

So? Try something new or eat more salad. Be nice to the harried mom and lively toddler in the next seat. Buy a T-shirt and toothbrush at the airport. What you do matters less than how you do it. If you can be gracious not grouchy, humorous not hassled, patient not put upon, your journey will “magically” improve.

4: FOLLOW THE LIGHT.

Ever watch a movie and wonder how it captured that famous travel destination minus crowds? Sure, money played a supporting role. But film crews also rely on the day’s first “golden hour.” That’s the period shortly after sunrise when daylight is redder and softer than when the sun appears higher up in the sky.

Most visitors sleep through this. But take at least one early-morning walk. It’s revelatory. Hey, you can always nap later.

A quiet street in Bruges, Belgium becomes a source of travel inspiration about traveling light. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

At sunrise, the picturesque streets of Bruges, Belgium, are crowd-free.
© Joyce McGreevy

Can’t face the dawn? Ask a friendly guide the best times to visit certain sights. In Bruges, for instance, places that are mobbed throughout the day become islands of solitude at 6:30 pm—when tour buses leave town, bars fill, and restaurants open for dinner.

Shadows on a house in Bergen, Norway become a source of travel inspiration about traveling light. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

In Bergen, Norway, traveling light includes appreciating life’s shadows.
© Joyce McGreevy

5: TAKE AN ENLIGHTENED PERSPECTIVE.

Take several—they’re free! Two essential travel tools are the ability to ask questions and a willingness to listen attentively to divergent answers.

Sound obvious? In practice, it’s not always easy. As outsiders in communities, we travelers often jump in with answers—even when we’re the one asking the questions.

Is it about a human need to prove competency? A wish to connect by offering information? Culturally different views about the purpose of conversation?

I don’t know. But every so often I experience places where people value asking questions and listening to multiple perspectives. When that happens, it reminds me to chill the chatter and be a better listener.

A mural in Budapest, Hungary becomes a source of travel inspiration. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

Does this Budapest mural highlight an ideal or an irony? It depends on your perspective.
© Joyce McGreevy

6: KEEP SPOTLIGHTING TRAVEL INSPIRATION.

Travel beyond “bright lights, big cities.” Shed light on cultural matters by reading local novels and histories. Challenge stereotypes that frame cultures as lightyears apart. Make people’s faces light up with simple acts of kindness—as if you lived there. Because for a time, you do.

Oh, I see: You may just end up seeing the world in a whole new light.

Comment on this post below, or inspire insight with your own OIC Moment here.

Joyce McGreevy 3 Comments

Art of Travel/Clever Ideas/Life Lessons/Worldwide Sites

Oct

What’s in Your Suitcase?

by Joyce McGreevy on October 9, 2017

A souvenir store in Budapest, Hungary leads a writer to seek the locus of travel inspiration and other aha moments. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

Souvenir stores straddle the border between “this place” and “any place.”
© Joyce McGreevy

Collected Travel Inspiration,
With & Without Souvenirs

Souvenirs—talismans of travel inspiration, mere trinkets, or trash? Can they inspire aha moments or only memorialize them?

The very word is a souvenir of 18th century French—from souvenir “to remember.” But I like the ancient Latin even better. Subvenire, “to come up from below,” tips its hat to the subconscious. It makes me think of opening old boxes in a basement and finding forgotten treasure, some silly, small item of no value. And yet . . .

Lost Souvenirs

My first souvenir? Petite plastic dolls from a Paris flea market. In the 1960s, my sister Carolyn and I splurged all our pocket money on them, one franc each. Ah, but that included “tous les meubles!”—all the furniture. Our dollhouse was a cupboard in our hotel, itself a souvenir of La Belle Époque.

A dollhouse in a store window in Sofia, Bulgaria leads a writer to ponder the travel inspiration we find in souvenirs. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

A dollhouse in a store window in Sofia, Bulgaria.
© Joyce

They’re long gone now—dolls, furniture, the hotel, too. But my flea-market mind maintains a little shrine for them.

The first recorded use of souvenir as a token of remembrance occurred in 1782. One dictionary after another presents this tidbit but omits the actual example. It’s like finding a silver lid minus the vessel. Souvenirs are like that—parts that can only hint at the whole.

Today, few people admit to souvenir-collecting. Marketing reports attest that travelers spend more on sightseeing than on shopping, souvenirs, and nightlife combined. Yet souvenir shops do booming business around the globe.

It’s Only Natural?

Early souvenir hunters “preserved” the past by breaking off bits of it. In the 1800s, visitors to Plymouth Rock were even provided with hammers.

An 1850 souvenir of Plymouth Rock leads a writer to ponder the downside of souvenirs and the true locus of travel inspiration. (Public domain image, National Museum of American History)

A chip off the old block? Some souvenirs proved too popular.
Plymouth Rock Fragment by National Museum of American History, CC BY 4.0

Can the quest for remembrances make us forgetful? Recently, a mother and daughter from Virginia mailed back “souvenirs” to Iceland—a stone and a bag of sand they’d collected from the black volcanic beaches of Reynisfjara.

Back home, they learned that Icelandic law strictly forbids such souvenir collecting. The tourism board accepted their apology and promised to return the items to their natural setting.

Practical Souvenirs

A friend of mine collects “shoe-venirs” when she travels. Every walk she takes begins in lands she has loved.

A chef I know collects household objects—a moka pot from Milan, spices from Moroccan souks. They link his American kitchen to kitchens around the world.

I like how these souvenirs, modern cousins to ancient vessels and vestments, are connected to daily rituals.

Ancient gold jewelry in the Benaki Museum, Athens, Greece inspires an aha moment about their connection to ordinary souvenirs. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

Charms of another age, at the Benaki Museum, Athens.
© Joyce McGreevy

Post-travel Souvenirs

One January, after returning from verdant Maui to snowbound Chicago, I saw melancholy sidle up to me. An aha moment intervened. I collected post-travel souvenirs: thrift store décor; Hawaiian-themed groceries; traditional island music. I adore Chicago, but Chicago-infused-with-Maui did wonders for my psyche that winter.

Garden objects in Maui lead a writer to ponder the reasons we find travel inspiration in souvenirs. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

Objects catch our eye, but it’s the context that we crave.
© Joyce McGreevy

Ephemeral Souvenirs

Even minimalists-to-the-max collect souvenir ephemera. It’s scientific fact. Just as magnets attract iron filings, humans attract paper: playbills from Piccadilly, coasters from Costa Rica, a café napkin from Nantes.

One day, you rediscover it—the train ticket turned bookmark. Suddenly, you’re traveling again, backtracking along the past, or pressing your nose against a window onto the future.

A collage made of travel ephemera on an office wall in Chicago leads a writer to ponder ways people find travel inspiration in souvenirs. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

Travel ephemera on an office wall in Evanston, Illinois.
© Joyce McGreevy

Whimsical Souvenirs

Now comes the parade of fringed pillows, ceramic caricatures, and other tchotchkes. Brazenly they shout out where you’ve been: Niagara Falls 1978! I heart Twickenham! Gibraltar ROCKS My World!

All hail souvenirs that sport the name Souvenir. If that Souvenir of Venice tea-towel were a person, it would stand arms akimbo and declare, “Yeah, pal, that’s right, I’m a Souvenir. What’s it to ya?”

Mass-produced pillows in California lead a writer to ponder why people find travel inspiration in souvenirs. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

Southwestern “souvenirs” for sale—in a California suburb.
© Joyce McGreevy

“Elsewhere” Souvenirs

But what of provenance? During my youth in Ireland, the more stereotypical the souvenir, the likelier it was to be stamped An tSeapain tir adheanta—“Made in Japan.” Who made the faux French dolls my sister and I played with? Where did they live? What were their lives like? Souvenirs keep secrets.

Twilight in Baltimore, Co. Cork, Ireland leads a writer to compare the travel inspiration of souvenirs vs. experiences. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

A moment made in Ireland.
© Joyce McGreevy

Elusive Souvenirs

The day I left Budapest, I passed between souvenir stores. Innumerable wares glinted in the sunlight like autumn leaves. As a single-suitcase traveler, I pretend I’m “immune to the stuff.” But the ache of departure made me gluttonous with desire, as if travel inspiration were something to consume: I wanted the “all” of Budapest.

Oh, I see moment: Maybe that’s what travel souvenirs represent—a longing to live multiple lives in myriad places, in times that never have to end.

Empty-handed, heart full, I boarded the train and said goodbye to Budapest.

Now then, what’s in your suitcase?

See souvenirs so quirky they seem satirical, here.

Comment on this post below, or inspire insight with your own OIC Moment here.

Joyce McGreevy Comments

Cultural Symbols/Life Lessons/Worldwide Sites/Your Own Aha Moments

Jun

More Than a Travel Mascot

by Joyce McGreevy on June 26, 2017

A toy canine travel mascot named Bedford, dressed for Maui, inspires his human travel buddy to see the world differently. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

“Have pawsport, will travel,” that’s Bedford’s motto.
© Joyce McGreevy

To See the World Differently,
Take Your Travel Buddy

I have a confession. Although my posts for OIC Moments suggest I’m a solo traveler, that’s not the whole story. Truth is, I never travel without a guide. To some, he’s just a “travel mascot.” To me he’s much more, a travel buddy who helps me see the world differently.

Bedford, take a bow. And a bow-wow.

A toy canine travel mascot named Bedford, dressed in Scottish tartan, inspires his human travel buddy to see the world differently. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

Testing the tartan in Scotland . . .
© Joyce McGreevy

A toy canine travel mascot named Bedford, sipping tea in Istanbul, inspires his human travel buddy to see the world differently. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

. . . and the tea in Turkey.
© Joyce McGreevy

Gnome on the Range

Seeing the world with a travel mascot is nothing new, of course. In the 1980s, an Australian man decided that his neighbors’ garden gnome needed to get out more. Photos he sent back anonymously featured the gnome at famous landmarks.

Cue the surge in gnome-nabbings, elfin escapades, and photographic tomfoolery. Petite plaster pilgrims began popping up around the planet. Gnomes roamed to every continent, even Antarctica.

The World Is Flat Stanley’s

Then there’s the “Flat Stanley” phenomenon. What began in the 1960s as a dad’s whimsical bedtime story for his sons grew into a worldwide literacy project.

Kids send forth a paper cutout of Flat Stanley to discover fascinating places and people around the world. Today’s tech-savvy students can even launch a digital Stanley via smartphone. Students then collect photos and write about Stanley’s adventures.

Travel buddy Flat Stanley, shown at Doonagore Castle, Doolin, Ireland, inspires students to see the world differently. (Image © Jules Larkin)

Best in Travel Show

But the most famous travel mascot of all is Charley.

You know him from John Steinbeck’s Travels with Charley: In Search of America, the 1961 memoir that inspired millions of readers to see the world differently. Here’s how Steinbeck introduced his travel buddy:

“He was born in Bercy on the outskirts of Paris and trained in France, and while he knows a little Poodle-English, he responds quickly only to commands in French. Otherwise he has to translate, and that slows him down.”

A toy canine travel mascot named Bedford, shown with books about traveling dogs, inspires his human travel buddy to see the world differently. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

From Portland to Every Land

Which brings us to my own travel buddy.

I first met Bedford while I was, uh, conducting a thorough study of American cultural artifacts at a Goodwill in Portland, Oregon. There among relics that, in technical terms, included bric-a-brac, knickknacks, and whatchamacallits, I found a diminutive cloth canine lying face down.

Concerned that this downward facing dog might remain lost amid the archaeological middens, I resolved to secure him a residency.

So I set him upright at eye level, directed his gaze toward the main door, and tilted his head fetchingly. Thus, I reasoned, the very next person to see him would be captivated.

My good deed done, I walked away. But then I glanced back to check the effect.

A toy canine travel mascot named Bedford, shown at the Bosporus, inspires his human travel buddy to see the world differently. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

That was 15 years ago. Since then, my Oregonian pal has adopted the name Bedford. Inspired by Bedford Falls in It’s a Wonderful Life, it also honors Bedford’s penchant for tumbling out of bed every morning in his eagerness to begin the day. Funny, I know just how he feels.

Business Travels with Bedford

Initially, Bedford’s travels were limited to business trips. Many a late night editorial slog benefited from his dogged assistance.

A toy canine travel mascot named Bedford, shown with laptop, inspires his human travel buddy to see the world differently. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

He traveled undercover in those days, hidden in the checked luggage. Neither of us breathed a word about his existence to my colleagues lest they raise questions of seriousness.

As in “Seriously? You travel with a little toy dog?”

Which simply wasn’t the case. One, I’m rarely serious. And two, who are you calling a toy?

Bedford, Come Home!

It was on a business trip to Denver that my luggage went missing. But it wasn’t the replaceable business wardrobe that concerned me.

Looking back on it now—as one who’s since embraced her inner Pippi Longstocking—I’m not ashamed to tell you that I was thunderstruck with sadness. Yes, over a little cloth dog.

Several anxious hours later, my luggage resurfaced. Another passenger had mistaken it for his own. It was then that I made a Big Decision: It was time for Bedford to come out of the suitcase.

A toy canine travel mascot named Bedford, shown with tiny travel gear, inspires his human travel buddy to see the world differently. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

“A Dog Is a Bond Between Strangers”

So wrote Steinbeck, and it’s proved true of Bedford. This global Citizen Canine has:

facilitated delightful conversations with families from Amsterdam to Zagreb
coaxed smiles out of blasé sophisticates, weary waiters, and grouchy bureaucrats
and inspired many a business traveler to change the subject from marketing platforms to childhood memories.

A toy canine travel mascot named Bedford, shown with Irish children, inspires his human travel buddy to see the world differently. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

I guess there’s just something about spotting a cheery canine character beside you in trains, planes, cafés, and long lines that helps break down social barriers.

Not to be dogmatic, but I believe Bedford has contributed to a pup-surge in pawsitive international relations. He loves all cultures, and understands every language except cynicism.

As Steinbeck noted of Charley, “This is a dog of peace and tranquility.”

A toy canine travel mascot named Bedford, shown at the Huntington Botanical Gardens, inspires his human travel buddy to see the world differently. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

Oh, I see: If this mini alumnus of Goodwill “University” can graduate into a global goodwill ambassador, maybe there’s hope for the rest of us rovers.

With or without a canine traveling companion, we can see the world differently. It starts when we unleash our natural instincts for warmth and good humor.

Have you ever had a travel mascot or travel buddy? How did this help you see the world differently?

Comment on the post below, or inspire insight with your own OIC Moment here.

Joyce McGreevy 1 Comment

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6 Bright Ideas for Traveling Light