The Journey & The Arrival
Written largely on Wednesday 11 October. Sorry for the delayed posting, but there were WiFi issues at my new digs. That said, I think it ended up adding value.
Yesterday morning, I woke up in suburban Philadelphia around 8 am Eastern Daylight. Last night, a little after 10 pm, I boarded a Norwegian Air Dreamliner, which transported me and several hundred of my closest strangers to Oslo, where we disembarked around 11:30. (We're on Central European Summer Time now.) Since then I have been puttering about the airport, asking strangers for lights (can't take lighters on planes, y'know), and generally waiting for my 19:35 scheduled flight to Prague. Tonight, sometime after 22:30 I'd imagine, I will deposited at my temporary home in my new home city. The whole process will have taken less than thirty-six hours, about 18 if you just count from airport to aiport to airport and discount a day playing tourist in Philadelphia.
As many people have observed, the rapid speed of modern travel makes it very difficult to adjust psychically to one's new surroundings. It seems to take us several days after arriving in a place before we mentally accept the fact that we are, indeed, there. I mean, after all, it's crazy to think that you can have breakfast at your home in the Chicago suburbs and enjoy a late lunch in Mexico City or a late-night supper in Brussels. No wonder we experience some mental dislocation.
The human mind, and the human soul, evolved and developed during a time of slow travel. For millennia, land travel was on foot, or if you were excetionally lucky, on horseback or in a carriage. With the exception of rare bursts, that means that travel speeds ranged from 3-10 miles per hour. In 1776, the trip from Philadelphia to Boston took 8 days on horseback; today, it takes about four hours by train. Indeed, it was only with the railroad, which was invented when my grandparents' grandparents were alive, that land travel began to take on its modern form. Water travel was another story, slightly, but the point is that is has only been in the past 150 or so years that humans have been able to travel from Point A to Point E without experiencing and getting a sense of Points B, C, and D in between.
Scientists have yet to invent actual physical teleportation, but starting with the train and moving through the car and then the miraculous airplane (We can fly!!!), they have invented mental teleportation. We move effortlessly (in comprative historical terms) from origin to destination and never learn about the places in between. In America, this creates the conceit of "flyover country," the vast middle of the nation which "coastal elites" only know as patches of green and brown out their airplane windows. Flyover country as a concept, however, is just as applicable to land alongside highways as it is to the states and whole nations that are flown over, skipped, in the quest to get to the goal.
This part written on the night of Saturday, 14 October.
Now, this is not a unique observation. However, my time in the Oslo Airport, and my first few days in Prague, have reinforced this message. With some six hours in Oslo airport, I got a sense of the place. Not Norway, or even Oslo, really, but of the airport. This sounds trivial, and perhaps it is, but in an airport you can often see the small adjustments a culture makes to this standardized format. The decor, the selection and array of shops, the availability of everything from Wi-Fi to power outlets to bathrooms gave me at least *some* sense of who these people were and what they valued. Or, at least, what they wanted people to believe they valued. The frequent and efficient trains into the city definintely also showed their values, as did their comparatively lax security both upon entering the country and when I reentered the airport. Again, I don't undrstand them, but what I saw was more than enough to show me that Norwegians are, and wished to be perceived as, different from other people. If I'd had a ninety minute connection, it's debatable I would have learned even that much. Rushing from gate to gate, Oslo would have been simply flyover country.
Which brings us, at last, to Prague. There will be much more about Prague in the next post (which I have up about a week from now--expect posts on weekends, mainly, going forward) and in the Patrons-only podcast (Dropping tomorrow or the next day, wherein I will describe my experience eating in a 700 hundred year old tavern while being serenaded by circus folk. Did I mention we were sitting in what felt like a dungeon, lit only by candles, with skulls on the ceiling? If you know me, you know I have thoughts. This one should be a barnburner.)
But yes, Prague. This city that is so beautiful and ancient and wonderful that literally words fail me. My biggest beef with the defining downward of the word "awesome" is that it means I can't say "Prague is awesome" and be heard as I wish; quite literally, the city, the architecture, the very fact that it exists, inspires awe. It's not just the gorgeous squares, or beautiful theaters, or massive medievel edifices, though. Rather, it's Prague *holistically* that leaves my vocabulary unequal to its task.
Every day for the past three days, my flatmate and I (He's a lovely fellow--more on him anon.) have walked to whatever our initial destination was. And, until our return tonight, we have walked home again. Our student flat--which is actually quite spacious and comfortable--is in the less trendy and chic Nusle area, tucked in a little vale south of all the "good stuff." Nusle is, for many, flyover country. Indeed, for many who drive, it's literally drive-over territory, as there is a large highway overpass built over the neighborhood. But during those three days of walking--there, back, and just around--my flatmate and I have found charm, beauty, and even tranquility. There's a stream about a block away, and the city built a park around it. It's not a massive park, but it's peaceful and relaxing and used by the residents. There are small-ish parks all over the city, including one in the middle of the river that was so perfect I don't know how every couple in Prague doesn't get engaged there.
Both here in Nusle and in every neighborhood we have encountered on our walks around town, we have found things to marvel at, or simply things worth seeing and noticing. Some other students we know have been using the excellent mass trsansit system to get around--which is more efficient, surely--but in getting from Point A to Point E, they have missed the beautiful monument at Point B, the cozy little coffee and sandwich shop at Point C, and the lovely hidden park with the stream at Point D. Any city, any place, is hard to capture, but tourist meccas are, I feel even harder. They become discrete attractions instead of real places full of real people and real interconnected history. Cities *live* and it's very easy to miss that life when you merely check off a list of tourist spots.
Astronomical Clock to Charles Bridge to Prague Castle--that's certainly one way to experience Prague. It's certainly more efficient than the meandering appraoch my flatmate and I have taken. But I think I know which is better. When classes begin Monday, and schedules tighten, the tram or the bus or the Metro will be the way to go, but come the weekend, I suspect my flatmate and I will both be back to our meandering ways, as long as the weeather will allow it. I can't speak for him, but I don't want to fly over Prague--I want to live in it.
**********************************
This is *definitely* still time to support my Patreon. Now that I am here in Prague, both the regular content and the Patrons-only content will be flowing at a more regular pace. So please, at whatever level, think about contributing. As I said before, I would happily create a lower tier (if Patreon allows it) if you want to be a part of this but feel unable. Go to www.patreon.com/sjcaustenite
Yesterday morning, I woke up in suburban Philadelphia around 8 am Eastern Daylight. Last night, a little after 10 pm, I boarded a Norwegian Air Dreamliner, which transported me and several hundred of my closest strangers to Oslo, where we disembarked around 11:30. (We're on Central European Summer Time now.) Since then I have been puttering about the airport, asking strangers for lights (can't take lighters on planes, y'know), and generally waiting for my 19:35 scheduled flight to Prague. Tonight, sometime after 22:30 I'd imagine, I will deposited at my temporary home in my new home city. The whole process will have taken less than thirty-six hours, about 18 if you just count from airport to aiport to airport and discount a day playing tourist in Philadelphia.
As many people have observed, the rapid speed of modern travel makes it very difficult to adjust psychically to one's new surroundings. It seems to take us several days after arriving in a place before we mentally accept the fact that we are, indeed, there. I mean, after all, it's crazy to think that you can have breakfast at your home in the Chicago suburbs and enjoy a late lunch in Mexico City or a late-night supper in Brussels. No wonder we experience some mental dislocation.
The human mind, and the human soul, evolved and developed during a time of slow travel. For millennia, land travel was on foot, or if you were excetionally lucky, on horseback or in a carriage. With the exception of rare bursts, that means that travel speeds ranged from 3-10 miles per hour. In 1776, the trip from Philadelphia to Boston took 8 days on horseback; today, it takes about four hours by train. Indeed, it was only with the railroad, which was invented when my grandparents' grandparents were alive, that land travel began to take on its modern form. Water travel was another story, slightly, but the point is that is has only been in the past 150 or so years that humans have been able to travel from Point A to Point E without experiencing and getting a sense of Points B, C, and D in between.
Scientists have yet to invent actual physical teleportation, but starting with the train and moving through the car and then the miraculous airplane (We can fly!!!), they have invented mental teleportation. We move effortlessly (in comprative historical terms) from origin to destination and never learn about the places in between. In America, this creates the conceit of "flyover country," the vast middle of the nation which "coastal elites" only know as patches of green and brown out their airplane windows. Flyover country as a concept, however, is just as applicable to land alongside highways as it is to the states and whole nations that are flown over, skipped, in the quest to get to the goal.
This part written on the night of Saturday, 14 October.
Now, this is not a unique observation. However, my time in the Oslo Airport, and my first few days in Prague, have reinforced this message. With some six hours in Oslo airport, I got a sense of the place. Not Norway, or even Oslo, really, but of the airport. This sounds trivial, and perhaps it is, but in an airport you can often see the small adjustments a culture makes to this standardized format. The decor, the selection and array of shops, the availability of everything from Wi-Fi to power outlets to bathrooms gave me at least *some* sense of who these people were and what they valued. Or, at least, what they wanted people to believe they valued. The frequent and efficient trains into the city definintely also showed their values, as did their comparatively lax security both upon entering the country and when I reentered the airport. Again, I don't undrstand them, but what I saw was more than enough to show me that Norwegians are, and wished to be perceived as, different from other people. If I'd had a ninety minute connection, it's debatable I would have learned even that much. Rushing from gate to gate, Oslo would have been simply flyover country.
Which brings us, at last, to Prague. There will be much more about Prague in the next post (which I have up about a week from now--expect posts on weekends, mainly, going forward) and in the Patrons-only podcast (Dropping tomorrow or the next day, wherein I will describe my experience eating in a 700 hundred year old tavern while being serenaded by circus folk. Did I mention we were sitting in what felt like a dungeon, lit only by candles, with skulls on the ceiling? If you know me, you know I have thoughts. This one should be a barnburner.)
But yes, Prague. This city that is so beautiful and ancient and wonderful that literally words fail me. My biggest beef with the defining downward of the word "awesome" is that it means I can't say "Prague is awesome" and be heard as I wish; quite literally, the city, the architecture, the very fact that it exists, inspires awe. It's not just the gorgeous squares, or beautiful theaters, or massive medievel edifices, though. Rather, it's Prague *holistically* that leaves my vocabulary unequal to its task.
Every day for the past three days, my flatmate and I (He's a lovely fellow--more on him anon.) have walked to whatever our initial destination was. And, until our return tonight, we have walked home again. Our student flat--which is actually quite spacious and comfortable--is in the less trendy and chic Nusle area, tucked in a little vale south of all the "good stuff." Nusle is, for many, flyover country. Indeed, for many who drive, it's literally drive-over territory, as there is a large highway overpass built over the neighborhood. But during those three days of walking--there, back, and just around--my flatmate and I have found charm, beauty, and even tranquility. There's a stream about a block away, and the city built a park around it. It's not a massive park, but it's peaceful and relaxing and used by the residents. There are small-ish parks all over the city, including one in the middle of the river that was so perfect I don't know how every couple in Prague doesn't get engaged there.
Both here in Nusle and in every neighborhood we have encountered on our walks around town, we have found things to marvel at, or simply things worth seeing and noticing. Some other students we know have been using the excellent mass trsansit system to get around--which is more efficient, surely--but in getting from Point A to Point E, they have missed the beautiful monument at Point B, the cozy little coffee and sandwich shop at Point C, and the lovely hidden park with the stream at Point D. Any city, any place, is hard to capture, but tourist meccas are, I feel even harder. They become discrete attractions instead of real places full of real people and real interconnected history. Cities *live* and it's very easy to miss that life when you merely check off a list of tourist spots.
Astronomical Clock to Charles Bridge to Prague Castle--that's certainly one way to experience Prague. It's certainly more efficient than the meandering appraoch my flatmate and I have taken. But I think I know which is better. When classes begin Monday, and schedules tighten, the tram or the bus or the Metro will be the way to go, but come the weekend, I suspect my flatmate and I will both be back to our meandering ways, as long as the weeather will allow it. I can't speak for him, but I don't want to fly over Prague--I want to live in it.
**********************************
This is *definitely* still time to support my Patreon. Now that I am here in Prague, both the regular content and the Patrons-only content will be flowing at a more regular pace. So please, at whatever level, think about contributing. As I said before, I would happily create a lower tier (if Patreon allows it) if you want to be a part of this but feel unable. Go to www.patreon.com/sjcaustenite
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