My First Post

St. Augustine mentioned that the world is a book, and that those who do not travel visit only one page. That is easy for him to say. He never had to deal with passports, travel visas, permits of stay, and debit card expiration dates. He did not need proof of residence, finance, and health insurance. Gold was the standard everywhere he went, and he didn't need to empty his pockets when going through port security. His known world was not much larger than a country.

St. Augustine and I are a kindred spirit with a common compulsion. We are also both guilty of a common arrogance--a narcissistic perspective that travel should be not only enjoyed, but expected, even easy. He preached surrounded by serfdom, slavery, and social conventions that he could not taste. So sit I here today, thousands of miles from home, zero from expectations, and far from done. I have been given an Augustinian highway as I callously whine because of the speed bumps. And I might even be missing the scenery.

My original goal was to visit 50 countries before my adult life begins (which I defined liberally by full-time job and/or marriage). 50 pages. Roughly a quarter of the book St. Augustine describes. I have summer, winter breaks, and long weekends; close-to-nothing transportation costs; and friends living in all six continents to help me out. I figured I could easily accomplish my goal, hopping from country to country, never spending more than three days in any one place. After all, a place is nothing more than a dot on a map, a passport stamp, a page.

How flawed my vision was. St. Augustine would have been appalled. This is not a book worth skim-reading or crash-studying with Cliff Notes. Places are not points to connect, but rather spaces to be filled. Yes, they are pages in a book, but they are also volumes in a collection, collections in a library, and libraries in a system. Thus a man may read more bound for a lifetime to his city-state than a merchant that has traveled the seven seas.

So here I am in Milan without a euro in pocket, yet blessed beyond measure. I forget this for a minute and return to my various weekend fantasies -- Venice, Rome, Florence, London, Brussels, Barcelona, Monte Carlo, Athens, Prague, Munich, Zurich -- thinking this would put me at twenty. And here I am in Milan.

I have never been a good reader. I have never been given a better opportunity to learn than right here, right now.