Showing posts with label Travel. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Travel. Show all posts

Tuesday, October 10, 2023

A Master Class in Happiness: Finnspiration

The headline caught my eye—as headline writers and their algorithms always hope. 

I took Finland’s free masterclass on happiness: Here are 3 things I learned

That’s right, this Northern nation—regularly ranked high in global studies of the happiest places—now offers an online class to help you live and flourish like a Finn. It started as an in-person experience, a contest that offered lucky winners a free trip to see the Finnish way of life up close. Then they turned it into a free, online class you can take from anywhere. 

It’s hosted on the Visit Finland website. It probably includes a hard sell to come spend your tourist dollars in their country. The class is free but requires registration, so anyone who signs up can expect to be added to their mailing list and may find ads for Visit Finland popping up in surprising places. 

If they’re right, a visit to Finland may be in your best interest, too. Learn more about how to Find Your Inner Finn.

See also other posts on this blog on the geography of bliss and how to be happy.

 

Sunday, June 30, 2019

Don’t Go There: Travel & the Problem of Over-tourism


“The question is, do you want to go to a place – or show people you’ve been to the place?” 

—Eduardo Santander, Executive Director of the European Travel Commission

I once accepted a free consultation from a young financial advisor trying to grow her business. The key question, she said, was how I wanted to spend my retirement. Travel, perhaps?

Ha! In those days I was spending enough time overseas or on the road I thought it would be nice to stay home. Read and write. Putter about, and probably volunteer somewhere. Have a pet and a garden. Still sounds good to me!

On the other hand, my travel was mostly work-related rather than recreational and it took me more places off the beaten track than on it. So, I entertained wistful thoughts of visiting France or Italy … hanging out on the Mediterranean… seeing Machu Picchu or the Great Wall of China.

Too Many Tourists

More and more people are joining the global middle class and have the same ideas about travel. They want to see all the places they've heard about. The tourism industry is booming. But all is not well.

Watch Top 10 Places Ruined by Tourism:




Or, if you just want to know what made the list:

1. Amsterdam (Netherlands)
2. Majorca (Spain)
3. Venice (Italy)
4. Angkor Wat (Cambodia)
5. Galapagos Islands (Ecuador)
6. Bali (Indonesia)
7. Iceland
8. Dubrovnik (Croatia)
9. Thailand
10. Mt. Everest (Nepal)

Any of those places on your bucket list? I know my limits well enough to say Mount Everest is safe from me; I'll just read "Into Thin Air" again. But I'd like to see some of the others. Have only been to three of them, two more than a decade ago. I remember thinking it would be better if there weren’t so many foreigners there (and in some other places I’ve been). But that hardly seemed charitable when I was a visitor myself.

To be sure, I’ve felt the crush of overcrowding as bad or worse in places frequently only or primarily by locals. There’s nothing like an Asian bazaar to trigger claustrophobia. The local name of one of the first I visited was “The push-and-shove." It was well named.

Over-tourism in the News

Well, this summer has seen a spate of news stories about the problem of over-tourism.
  • How to Be a Better Tourist (BBC) describes the problem and provides helpful suggestions for sorting out your own priorities as a tourist.
  • It’s Summer and Everyone Is Writing about Overtourism (Skift)  includes links to other coverage and suggests the tourism industry itself should accept blame, not merely the tourists themselves. After all, they are doing everything they can to encourage the situation.

Selfie Sightseeeing

As some of the articles point out, Instagram and its ilk are a driving force. Evidently you haven’t really seen Paris if you don’t have your own pictures, and a picture of yourself with each of its famous spots (see articles like 43 Most Instagrammable Places in Vancouver). But how many people go there just to say (and show) they have, rather than showing interest in the place itself? Already this summer the staff of the Louvre staged a walkout because they were frustrated about the overcrowding; long lines, piles of garbage, and standstill traffic can make eager sightseers cranky, too. I like a good art museum. Am not sure how much trouble I'd take (or make) to see (and say I'd seen) that one.

Everyone Wants to See Flam

My husband is a big action-movie fan, but has a contemplative side as well. And when he wants to relax, he puts on Slow TV: Train Ride Bergen to Oslo. It's the view from a seven-hour train journey through beautiful Norwegian countryside, with mountains, water, and trees nothing like those where we live now. It's lovely. Maybe someday we will go?

The other day we were wondering how the communities along the route survive. Is there industry, agriculture? And if we went, what else might we stop and see along the way? I Googled some station names and started to learn about a village called Flam, population 350, which has been a tourism center since the late nineteenth century. Ah, tourism is what's keeping them alive. And that means there are probably things to do in and around Flam, right?

Yes, but the interest is too much for Flam to handle. They get 160 cruise ships and 450,000 tourists a year, most of whom stay only a day. It's worth seeing, evidently, but the waters of the fjord are getting polluted; no more fishing. Among other troubles, there are reports of public defecation; the only public toilets are in the train station.

What Is Travel at its Best?

With the travel industry, social media, etc. so ready to suggest what to do and where you go, perhaps we need to be more discriminating. Not just go everywhere we can, or everywhere we're told. Give up any FOMO tendencies. We would do well to know ourselves and what we want. As I think of my best experiences and favorite memories, they have to do with discovery and human connection.

If what we like is connecting with people, finding places of peace and beauty, and finding what makes a place unique, we may do better to give up the chance to see the headline sights. Maybe go with less of a plan or agenda and let others guide us. Perhaps making the journey one of discovery, rather than the conquest of checking things off a bucket list, of cramming in all the must-see and can't-miss sights.

But all this helps me be content to be missing some stamps in my passport. To accept that I haven't been there and done that. What else have I seen and felt and experienced along the way, instead?

As it turns out, a great deal.

Your thoughts?  

Friday, November 09, 2018

Anticipating Travel: a tale of two attitudes.

Things are moving ahead with our trip to Southeast Asia in January! I just bought the tickets yesterday. One thing I may not have said in my last post about this is that the day after I mentioned the scheme to one of the top guys in our office in Florida, he told me he and his wife had talked about it and would like to pay for my husband's ticket so he could go. Awesome! So his assistant got things rolling with Finance and HR and I'm getting a one-time salary "bonus" to cover the airfare. Most of our on-the-ground expenses will be either be covered by those organizing the events or are legit to reimburse from my work account, so we can make this work without breaking the bank. The big cost will be the loss of income, since Hubs doesn't get any paid time off.

I have been quite grumpy in the process of researching and buying the tickets. So many options! Go East! Go West! Go fast! Go slow! Fly a US airline! Fly an Asian airline! Fly all the way around the world!

Add to that the fact that my least favorite thing to do is spending large amounts of money. And even with all the reimbursements, it's a lot to put on my credit card. I have a hard time getting past my mother's warning when I was 17 and going off to college with my first credit card in hand: don't use this. It's only for emergencies.

There's one more reason I've been grumpy, I think. It comes from the tension between two different approaches toward anticipating or preparing for the future.

You know how the key difference between extroverts and introverts is where they get their energy? Introverts recharge by spending time alone, while extroverts are energized by being with groups of people.

I wonder if there's terminology or a model to describe two tendencies in how we view upcoming events, and maybe especially vacations and travel?

If there aren't words for it, maybe I will make some up.

Here's what I mean. Clearly some people love to talk about, envision, and prepare for their next big trip. I think of a family I know that "surprised" their kids with tickets to Disneyland, but months in advance so the whole family could enjoy looking forward to the trip. And my dad and stepmom take a trip to someplace warm and sunny every February or March. Anticipating their vacation helps them keep going through each wet, depressing winter. And my husband finds that learning all about what he's getting into helps keep him from being overwhelmed by it all when he gets there. All that makes sense to me.

But... I'm not like that. I find thinking much about the trip to Asia that's two months away, especially when I have two domestic trips to plan between now and then, quite stresssful. Told a coworker yesterday that I kind of take pride in not packing or planning a trip until it's time. It means I may miss out on things that have to be set up in advance. It also means I don't put a lot of energy into making plans I can't carry out when further info comes in or circumstances change. It lets me put boundaries on things, and not think about a thing until it needs my attention. And that reduces my stress, a LOT.

Must sound funny to someone of the plan-ahead-and-anticipate style, though, to hear me complain about wasting energy looking forward to something. For them that's half the fun.

Good to be able to label my own thoughts and emotions in this. Better still if I can be prepared to push them aside and not get irritable when talking to someone who approaches all this differently than I do.

Monday, September 17, 2018

Personal Update: Dusting off my Passport

I used to get overseas about once a year. Most of those trips involved training or coaching teams doing cross-cultural sociological research. Strangely enough, after joining a ministry that serves in 100+ countries, my international travel opportunities dried up. Marriage also caused me to limit the scope of my travel. So, although a couple times I have been "loaned out" to other ministries to help with something or other, I haven't been overseas on company business for a decade now. Even the two trips I made with other organizations put me in situations that reminded me of my weaknesses and vulnerability, causing me to wonder if I should just put my global travel days behind me.

Looks like that's going to change in 2019. I joined a new team about a year ago. The team strategy and budget allows for me to get overseas about once a year. And an invitation came for January that I couldn't say no to.

I'm not going off the beaten trail this time. It's just a conference in Southeast Asia, in a city popular with expats. I've been asked to participate in an international forum on equipping folks to thrive in cross-cultural service. The agency leader who is organizing the event is also putting finishing touches on his PhD dissertation, which evidently covers 10 areas related to "on-boarding" new team members, and the event will be structured around that. I'm eager to see his research and expect that it covers ground I was not able to get to when working on my own, more limited Master's thesis a few years ago. (I don't think this guy even knows I did that.)

They asked me to lead a session about enculturation. I wouldn't consider myself an expert, but I am a decent curator and have a pretty good collection of tools and strategies that relate. Ethnography, especially, is something I have never felt that I could lay down entirely... even when so many others I worked with on this have stepped back and moved on to other things. Now I've got an excuse to blow off the dust on the material I've collected, make inquiries across the organization to find out more who's doing what and what the felt needs are, and offer what I've found to people who may be able to use it more than I do.

Even so, I didn't want to travel to the other side of the world just to do a one-hour presentation. (And soak up a couple days of content from others.) Not without at least looking for another way to leverage the plane ticket. So I plan to go a week early and participate in another event, this one a retreat for folks who work in a number of different countries. Although they are there for a break, people like me are welcome to go just to meet people and do a bit of networking....

I've put in a proposal for a pilot project doing oral history interviews. The vision is along the lines of StoryCorps: inviting people to bring a family member, friend, or colleague to preserve something of their story for posterity. If it were just a matter of building rapport and doing interviews, I'd be fine on my own, but the recording aspect is one thing too much for me. I'm going to need some technical assistance. So I've proposed bringing along my husband to manage the equipment and focus on the recording aspect. He's good at that kind of thing where I am not. He never had the host country on his list of places to visit one day, but he's game. And although he will have to take leave without pay to come, he doesn't anticipate any trouble getting the time off. (Working two part-time jobs without benefits does have ONE benefit: bosses tend to give you latitude to set  your own schedule.)

I'm not sure the conference organizers are going to "buy" the project idea. I started with, "Can I come? Can I bring my husband?" and they said yes to that. They'd be glad to have us meet their people and hear their stories. But bringing in media equipment and trying to set up meetings with their people, with everything else going on, may be too much. I probably wouldn't have had the chutzpah to pursue this had not a friend, a leader in our organization, offered to cover the extra plane ticket, and my team in Florida approved my proposal. But once they did, I was emboldened to press ahead. I tweaked the proposal and sent it off to the field. Hoping to hear back shortly.

If they say no, I'll be left with an awkward decision. Do I just go over for the forum on equipping new members, and skip the retreat? Do I go for both and bring my husband along when I don't "need" his help? Or do I go for both events, leaving my husband alone for two weeks right after Christmas (and miss his milestone birthday!)? Guess I just have to lay all this down before God and others and wait for clarity.

Tuesday, March 24, 2015

Smiles in the Aisles

When I went on a company-sponsored cruise a few years ago, I was dismayed by the pressure to be pleased at all times. It's not that our company was necessarily supporting this manipulative practice, but the hospitality industry certainly was. Am intrigued by the idea that happiness is something you can mandate, cajole, engineer, or  produce.

It seems that a significant part of the business of offering great service these days is telling people you’re offering great service. Persuade people to like you by telling them how much they like you. Give them a gift and leave the price tag on; make sure they know about all its features and how "perfect" it is for them. As if they have no choice but to like it. And be happier as a result.

Amazing how often this actually works. People are happy because you tell them what a great time they're having (Though, silly me, I want to reserve the right to come to my own conclusion).

On a flight home from Orlando I noticed (and yes, smiled) at Delta Airlines’ boast of “75 years of smiles in the aisles.”

Is labeling the java “great coffee” supposed to set people up to enjoy it more? Does it work? 

Wednesday, January 22, 2014

February/March Travels

Unpacking from last weekend's overnight trip to Portland, I'm realizing I won't be moth-balling my suitcase any time soon. (Wait, does anyone still use mothballs?) Yes, it's nearly time for my usual springtime spate of speaking gigs. I'm exited about it; I do enjoy the chance to get out there and shine. Though I need to make sure I'm on top of the deadlines for my writing projects and the more mundane stuff at home. I should also be sure to replace the aging battery and balding tires on my car, lest they cause unexpected adventures along the way.

I'm teaching eight Perspectives classes in three states. Last year it was a different lesson each time, but this time I'm playing more to my strengths and should be able to get by with just blowing the dust off three of my better lesson plans.

Add in one overnight conference thing in Portland, and another of those eight-day trips to Florida for meetings with my Pioneers team, and here's what we've got:

February
Feb 20 - teach Perspectives lesson 7 (Bend, OR)
Feb 23 - fly to Louisiana
Feb 24 - teach Perspectives lesson 7/8 (Baton Rouge, LA)
Feb 25 - teach Perspectives lesson 7/8 (Lake Charles, LA)
Feb 26 - teach Perspectives lesson 7/8 (Baton Rouge, LA)
Feb 27 - teach Perspectives lesson 7/8 (New Orleans, LA)
Feb 28 - fly back to Oregon

March
Mar 2 - teach Perspectives lesson 7 (Richland, WA)
Mar 5 - teach Perspectives lesson 8 (Portland, OR)
Mar 7-8 - Muslim ConneXion (Portland, OR)
Mar 15 - fly to Florida
Mar 16-21 - agency meetings (Orlando, FL)
Mar 22 - fly back to Oregon
Mar 31 - teach Perspectives lesson 10 (Portland, OR)

Tuesday, November 26, 2013

Denver Interlude and Holiday Plans

A recent trip to Florida for meetings offered me the chance to stop and spend time in Colorado, my old stomping ground, on the way home. There I did for the first time something I've been doing for almost 20 years on trips to Washington - I set up about a dozen appointments for lunch, dinner, or coffee as a means of strengthening relationships with supporters and significant friends. It's the first time I've made a trip like that to Colorado, though, in the two years since I moved away.

The family I invited myself to stay with (!) seemed a little bemused by this process... it being, I suppose, an unusual one. I'd been doing this for so many years I'd sort of forgotten how much our culture has shifted and how busy people's lives have become. Making time to get together with a friend - one with whom your paths might not naturally cross - is a luxury many cannot afford.

I'm glad - grateful - that it's actually part of my job to do this. It's one of the best ways folks who follow this full-time ministry lifestyle can ensure they are not forgotten but still have relationships back "home" (and hopefully prayer and financial support when that is needed as well).

During the several days I spent in Denver, I ran into and/or remembered others I'd love to catch up with, too. From that vantage point, continuing the process seemed do-able. Now that I'm back in Oregon, with all the responsibilities for work, house, family, and school settling back around my shoulders, I have a harder time picturing myself do this. I haven't even returned messages received from some of those I began to pursue but was not able to see.

One person I met with is a good friend who is single, and who as we spoke alluded to the awkwardness she feels about this week's Thanksgiving holiday. It hasn't been that long; how could I have forgotten what it's like to be single on Thanksgiving? Wondering where you will go, who will invite you and when... the delicate process of answering the inquiries of others when you are not sure they are about to extend an offer or, not interested in accepting it!

The question would come up at church or the office: "What are you doing for Thanksgiving? You'd be welcome to join us if you have no other place to go!" Usually I received several offers on those unflattering terms. Maybe I could go one place for dinner, and drop in elsewhere for pie and coffee? Would that be too weird? Would I feel like the pathetic add-on person and wish I'd skipped the whole thing and just stayed home?

My marriage has generally made my life more complicated, but it does simplify and answer the question of who I'll be with on the holidays. This year's Thanksgiving feast is conveniently close - as will be, I imagine, every holiday that we stay in Eugene. No need to go over the river or through the woods: Grandma Wade lives less than ten blocks away.

I'm a little more bent toward variety than tradition, but tradition wins this time. And I'll include some of my own favorite traditions though they differ from those of my new family. I'll make pumpkin pie from scratch and watch the Macy's parade. And this year I'll try to practice an unholiday-like moderation, as well, as I continue to diet. The pounds and inches are not melting off very quickly, I admit. But I do feel better and am managing to keep the doctor's orders fairly well. When I go see her again next year, I hope there will be less of me.

Restraint has an appeal all its own. It offers a simplicity and clarity which feasting cannot offer. This time of year I often think of my first Thanksgiving in Eugene way back in college days, which began with the usual feast but was followed by three days of ramen and apple slices. I suppose that even that year, the Wade family was gathered almost ten miles north of me in the big house where we'll go this Thursday.

Thursday, June 23, 2011

The Ever-changing World of Air Travel

Been spending time in airplanes and airports again. More, it seems, in airports than in airplanes. I think I prefer life on the ground to the thrill of cruising at 30,000 feet. Of course, it may be necessary to go to such lengths - or heights - to get from point A to point B, which is the point of the whole endeavor anyway.

A few observations about the ever-changing world of air travel:

1. High Class

I wrote before about not buying into First Class Mystique. The whole thing with getting to walk across a six-foot-long patch of red carpet, sometimes set apart by a matching velvet rope, still cracks me up.

Also, "priority boarding." Again, I prefer airports over airplanes and am in no rush to maximize my time aboard (unless I need to stash an ambitiously sized carry-on). As long as I've got an aisle seat I'd rather vie for the privilege of getting on last. Though one mustn't make the flight attendants nervous by dawdling, eh?

2. Personal Space

Flying United last week I noticed the extent to which they are pushing "Economy Plus." When you buy your ticket, when you check in, and even when you drop off your bag, you're encouraged to consider making the upgrade. It's also pushed by flight attendants and the in-flight magazine. The marketing campaign now emphasized not just more legroom, but more laptop room. Interesting...

3. BYO Entertainment

Many, many customers these days are sporting not just laptops but also Kindles, Nooks, personal game or movie-watching devices, etc. Some patrons - especially the pint-sized ones - seem unfamiliar with the concept of headphones; they share their music or sound effects with everyone on the plane.

Are the days of (airline-provided) inflight entertainment systems numbered?

4. Staying Afloat - er, Aloft

While complaining about various airlines and travel experiences is a well accepted activity among the jet set, I have to say my sympathy is with the airlines. They may do some dumb or aggravating things but they're also just struggling to keep their companies in the air. Competition is tough and prices have not increased at the same rate as costs. What they save on peanuts and plasticware and make on suitcase fees and seat upgrades can't make that much of a difference. As they say goodbye they usually acknowledge, "We know you have a choice of airlines, and appreciate your business."

>> Fellow travelers, how have you noticed the experience changing?

See also: Greatest Inventions Since the Wheel

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Saturday, May 28, 2011

Crossing The Country by Covered Wagon

This post was originally published August 9, 2010. I'm reposting it as part of the Christian Writers Blog Chain. This month we're writing on the theme, "journeys."

I knew that the great "Pony Express" was rendered obsolete by the introduction of the telegraph less than two years after it began. But I recently realized that another touchstone of American history, the settlement of the West by pioneers who traveled across the continent by covered wagon, lasted just over one generation (1840-1869). At that point the completion of railroads chopped the journey west from a treacherous trek of six months by wagon to a mere one-week train trip.

One spot through which all those covered wagons were driven - carrying about 500,000 pioneers in that 29-year period - was Casper, Wyoming.
You know what they say: location, location, location. Casper is near what may be the best route across the Rockies. It's built beside the [once] great Platte River, which travelers coming West had followed for hundreds of miles. Here each emigrant - having left the United States behind - would say goodbye to the river and strike off for destinations in places like Oregon, California, and Utah.
Image: National Park Service

The people of Casper seem to have accepted the fact that their home is and apparently always has been a place people come through on their way someplace else.
In fact, they've built up a modest tourist industry around that aspect of their history. Driving from Washington back to Colorado last summer I visited the National Historic Trails Interpretive Center as well as several of the nearby places of significance to those who traveled these trails.

It goes back pretty far.
The 80,000 settlers who came through on the Oregon trail were following in the footsteps of Arapaho, Lakota Sioux, and Shoshone.

Some 70,000 Latter-day Saints came, too, fleeing persecution and seeking their own promised land. Many of the most helpful tools and strategies for surviving the trip were developed by the Mormons; they were disciplined and organized. (Legalistic religions come with a silver lining...)

When the California gold rush got under way, the trail became a highway. One local resident noted that 600 wagons had passed by his house in a single day. On the other hand, I was pleased to read the entry from the journal of one man who reported a guy on horseback heading the other direction, returning to the East. He explained that he simply couldn't go on; he loved his wife more than gold.

Native Americans were once glad of trading partners and scouting jobs. Now they complained that there wasn't enough food to go around; these people were taking over, moving in as if the land were not already inhabited.

Perhaps those covered-wagon days play a big part in our national history because they left such a mark on the families who rode those trails.
It was probably the hardest, bravest thing they had ever done. It took so much courage. Many people thought you were crazy. Others envied you. It was a little like going to war. Or traveling to another country. In a way, it was both.

Have you ever been in that kind of situation? The emotions run so high. You don't know if you will survive. If you do, it knits you together together with others who have made that journey, especially the ones you went with. In the context of a lifetime, it may have been a brief experience, but it was one that will stay with you all your life. You save the souvenirs. You pass down the stories to children and grandchildren.

So many lost so much along the way. The more crowded the trails became, the more they were lined with dead animals, broken-down wagons, abandoned treasures, and hundreds and hundreds of graves. Children fell off the wagons and got run over. Others emigrants grew sick and died - cholera was a big killer - drowned in a river crossing, or were caught in storms. Not many were killed by Indians or wild animals, but some.

Timing was important. Everyone knew that if you started at the right time, you'd find enough spring grass along the way to feed your stock. But wait too long and you'd risk getting caught by an early snow in the mountain passes. You knew you'd probably make it to your destination before snowfall if you reached Wyoming's Independence Rock by the fourth of July. That must have been a jubilant place; everyone stopped to scamper up the rock and carve their names. There were dances, and sporting events, and weddings there. A huge celebration took place every July 4.

By the time you'd reached this point, you'd probably gone through a lot.
Some of the things you feared had not come to pass, at least not yet. Others, you'd overcome and survived. You'd followed the Platte River longer than you could remember. I bet the kids had stopped asking, "are we almost there yet?" Living out of a wagon was starting to feel normal.

You still had at least another thousand miles to go. 


Can you imagine leaving your country and everything you knew to journey to Oregon Territory? Would you have gone? If so, what do you think would have been the most frightening or difficult part of the journey for you?

Monday, May 23, 2011

Women’s Stories – Another from Russia

1. The Foundation of a Loving Family

S. was quite young when her father died, leaving behind a wife and two children. Maybe that’s why the family pulled together as much as they did.

“My mother was trying to provide. But we had everything by her help, as much as or even more than in a complete family. I was with my grandparents a lot. We were loved very much and raised happily.

“Looking at my grandparents I feel inside myself a great feeling that being moral is very important. My grandparents were Muslim, real Muslims, and read namaz [say the ritual prayers]. They were full-hearted about it. Their children, my mother's generation, only knew the rules and did not follow everything like the parents did. They were not as conservative.

“My grandfather was the head of the family. All important questions, for example financial questions, he was the giver of the right to do everything or not. A woman was to do what he would recommend, to give a life to his order. Daily house life, everything about it. But personally in our family we never faced a situation where a woman would be forced to do something or pushed to do things.

“My grandfather loved my grandmother very much. My grandmother is loved by everyone in the family. Now she is 90 years old. Sometimes older people may be like challenged to know what to do, to be wise about today, but she is still wise. She amazes me. She still has authority above all her children. We honor her so much. Every word she would say we follow her; we want to honor her completely. That is how it happened in our family, that's what I have to say.”

The family continues to live close to one another, in the same apartment building in fact. Grandma comes over for lunch every day.

2. Only God Can Help My Brother

So many Christians, whether living in the West or in the East, seem to believe that Muslim family life is all about abuse and repression. So I was glad to hear about the strong foundation S. felt she had from being raised in a traditional but fairly healthy family.

I did have a hunch that might be more to her story, though, and as our conversation continued S. told us that she was a Christian, a believer in Jesus, and that it happened that she was the first in her family to choose that direction. Ah; this must be why our friend (a Christian leader) had suggested we talk to S. and had set up the interview with us.

Like many of the believers we met on this trip, the one thing S. was really happy to talk about was what God had done in her life. Rather humbling. I'd come hoping to hear more about Islam and culture and how relationships work in this culture, but I kept meeting believers from various backgrounds who wanted to tell me how Jesus had changed their lives! We wondered how S. had become a Christian and how her close-knit family had responded. As the story unfolded, we found out.  

S. told us God had allowed her to go through a situation where she was brokenhearted. And coming from a loving family played a significant role in what happened next. Was S. was broken over was a tragic situation in the life of one of one of her family members.

“My brother had some problems and begin to drink. In the beginning it helped him go away from his problems, but the troubles in the end grew to be a disease he could not bear.

“It was so unhappy for me to see him die inside. I tried all I could, took him to hospitals and set up meetings for him, everything medical that can be done, I learned about and tried it all. I did not want the thought that he would die from what he was doing.

“One day a strange thought came into my mind: Only God can help my brother. So I went on the Internet and typed in, ‘cure alcoholics with God.’ The computer said, ‘Did you mean…’ and gave suggestions. The first one was ‘Christian Rehabilitation Center for the Alcohol Addicted.’

3. Intimacy, Independence, and the Internet

Amazing, isn’t it, the way people all over the world turn to the Internet with their deepest and most intimate questions or struggles? This came up several times during my time in Russia. In one of the most helpful interviews we had a pastor told us explained that they are trying to encourage the people in their church to be outward-looking, even from the beginning, to share what God is doing in their hearts.

“This is one of our problems: we are not a culture of communicating, relating to each other. What is easy for a European, to talk to and look at each other, maybe it's natural for you too but we don't have it in Russia.”

He attributed this reticence to Communism. His church has attracted a lot of young people and they are encouraging them to be active in social media and share what they are learning in those environments.  

I’d been emailing with a friend back in the States who said, “The Russians are a mysterious people, eh? And the effects of 70 years of Communism are still ingrained in their souls. Soviet Communism didn't just happen there by chance; it was fertile ground for it to take root.”

In a way, I’d been able to relate to the Russians and “Russified” people we’d met better than I can with people from some other cultures. When I’ve been in places where friendship means sitting around with uneducated women, drinking tea and gossiping for hours, I quickly feel restless. With many of the Russians we met I felt much more at home and among people like me. Yet I wasn’t sure if I liked the characteristics we had in common.

The pastor had suggested another factor that gets in the way of communication and community:

“Our city is quite wealthy. There is some pride because of that. It makes our work difficult, because people come to Christ often when they are more desperate in some way. People here are busy with themselves. In the postmodern world, individualism is risen high up. The Western world will see the fruits of that. When there is money, you have individualism. People start to think only of themselves. We have to fight with that here. Even these rich people, they know they are vulnerable inside and do need Jesus as well.”

I hadn’t made these connections before. When you put together the independence and individualism that come from wealth with the mistrust and fear of being controlled that come from the (perhaps inevitable) excesses of Communism, well, that’s quite a lot to overcome. My own independence and individualism, mistrust and fear of being controlled... they may have different roots but similar fruit. So ministries using media and the Internet may have a significant part to play both in places like this wealthy Russian city and in the world in which I live, too.

4. A Journey in Faith

S. did not tell us a great deal more about how her brother was set free from alcoholism, but she did tell  us about her own journey toward God and the stages she went through in sharing that with others in her family. So I’ll close with her words.

“I called and they asked me to come in, myself, to meet with them, so I came to the city. It happened that some people who worked with this program had just become missionaries in my town and even lived in the same building. I started to communicate with those missionaries. I saw their faith and deep connection to what they believed in. They were not perfect. I saw them do some wrong things. But they had great faith in the God they worshiped. I decided to keep this connection; maybe inside I wanted to believe as they did.

“They gave me a sermon video to watch and while I watched it I don't know but inside I had a feeling, God exists. The sermon was about the inheritance you have to give your children. Not just material things like money but their inheritance is what you give them in spirituality. Before, I had thought money was what it was important for children to receive, but then I understood it was not the only thing the generations after you would receive. I realized I didn't know anything about God.

“I understood faith was not only traditional things like sitting down for a big meal with my family, not just religious rules you have to do, not things on the outside but something that comes from inside. I wanted to have that inside. My heart opened to it, and I started to learn things. What I had was not enough; I wanted to see more sermons, and read a lot. It was like my spirit came out of a trap and wanted nourishment of faith and knowledge of faith.

“I would go to my brother and try to give him the literature but he would not accept it. Then I had a vision and saw my mother and brother standing beside me shoulder to shoulder worshiping God; this did not happen in the physical world, but I took it as what God showed me to keep me thinking about it, to remember and keep going.

“I would try to put videos on the table, give them literature, bring up the ideas in conversations, and this seemed to make it worse. Conversations became strained. But I called out, ‘God, you said, “the whole household will believe”! I give my whole family to you; this is what you promised.’

“I was depressed when I saw my brother. But because I prayed and believed now I was changed, smiling, cheerful in life no matter what happened, because of God, and I think that is what they saw. So I decide I would believe and pray and pray, not try to touch them on the topic of Christianity but just believe and pray.

“Then one day I was going to a Sunday service when I heard the words: Go and take your mother with you. So I went back and called her. She's disabled and lives in same apartment with my brother. All he was going through influenced her as well and she too was fading and dying inside. This time I said, ‘Come with me today,’ and without saying anything she gathered up her things and came with me. Before she would always say ‘No, I cannot, we are Muslim; we don't do that.’

“But that Sunday she came, and while she was there she went through her whole life [saw it pass before her eyes?]. She believed in God and repented. I realized that's what happened to her on that day.

“With time, my brother saw she had changed. She was showing God's love to him and had become a happy person. She would not nag him, her attitude was different. Sometime later he said, ‘I want your God.’

“It was tough to tell my grandmother," she added. 

Ah yes, remember the grandmother? The beloved, devoutly Muslim grandmother? 

"For a while we did not tell her so we would not hurt her feelings, but she did not make a [fuss]." 

I've found this true in other Muslim communities and families as well. The bonds of love and loyalty can often stretch more than you might thing. Societies in which people are completely ostracized from their families for turning to Jesus are quite rare.

"My greatest desire is to see my whole family to become Christians," said S. "It is my special idea. I really want it to happen.”

See also: Women's Stories: A Central Asian Immigrant

Friday, April 22, 2011

Midtrip Report of Sorts

Nope, haven't been blogging. I'm overseas investigating a project that might be sensitive - that's actually part of what I'm trying to figure out. As a person who is better at finding reasons not to do things, seeing what could go wrong, that is stretching my faith. The ambiguity is too high for me.

On the plus side, practical matters (shared with a partner and with lots of people we can call on for help and advice while we're here) have been quite manageable. Basic stuff like food, shopping, money, transportation, etc. have been relatively easy. Well, easy for me. I've thrown too much on my partner, I think, as if these things are not hard for her too.

When we are able to cross the linguistic boundaries many of those we meet do not seem so different in mindset and way of life as the folks in some of the other places I have been. Though I gather there are still plenty of people out in tiny, isolated villages for whom life is quite different. We're spending most of our time in the big city.

Internet access here is not difficult but not having my own laptop, I haven't had time to blog. It's pretty low on the priority list. Have put a few things on Facebook, though.

Just a few more days here. We fly out early on Wednesday.

Pray for health, hope, perseverance, unity, and - most especially - eyes to see what to make of this trip and what our next steps might be.

I find it most helpful to assume we're going to continue pursuing a project here for the future but that may or may not be the case. If we are, it is my hope to continue the networking and research I began before we came. Will I do it? Hope so. I have comforted myself with such assurances in the past, through, only to see them erode pretty quickly. Anyway, now I have a much better grid for evaluating what may come my way. I know what my questions are. May even try to set up some Skype appointments before we leave.

Saturday, March 26, 2011

Telling Secrets about Travel

Anchorage, Alaska, March 2011. Packing and unpacking, trying to set up appointments – not too few, and “waste” the opportunity, not too many, and leave myself drained and exhausted. Navigating someone else’s city and driving around in a rental car. Tracking expenses, managing the cash and checks. Trying to stay on top of what’s come up, what’s about to come up, and what I’ve pushed to the back burner while I’m traveling but must not forget completely. And now I left family #1’s house key at family #2’s house, some 70 miles away, along with the card with family #2's phone number on it. Yikes. 

Often when I travel, my strengths shine through: I’m outgoing and friendly, flexible, love meeting new people and learning about new places. I do fine with airlines and airports, suitcases and boarding passes and seatmates. And if I find myself in an unusual social situation, I smile inside, enjoy the challenge and start forming alliances. Like trying to find the alto part when singing with 20 bearded men at the pastors’ prayer breakfast F. took me to the other day. Who would have thought I’d find myself there? Had a great time, and am eager to pass on some of the stories and ideas I heard.

Often, as in this case, I came because I have something to contribute, something valuable and needed: I passed along the result of my studies and experience and helped history come alive to 50 people enrolled in two Perspectives classes. I love to love and serve the people I meet. Often, this means I have other people to take care of my needs, organize the schedule, and drive me around.

But sometimes travel lets my weaknesses shine through, too: I don’t like to drive, have trouble judging distances, and don’t remember how to get places. I’m extremely nervous about taking social initiative and making phone calls. In fact, the phone I have doesn’t even work in this city. I have trouble staying on top of administrative tasks and organizing physical things – knowing where I put that piece of paper you gave me that had something important on it, wrapping up my cords carefully rather than jamming them in the bag because you expect me to be ready to go. The rental car is a nice touch in that it gives me freedom – and makes the jobs of those I visit somewhat easier – but the responsibility of getting myself places increases my stress level considerably.

How we respond when our weaknesses are revealed is probably a lot more important than what are weaknesses are or how numerous, surprising, or inconvenient they may be. And on this count I find myself failing as well, and I feel a wave of self-loathing rise up like bile. Come on, anyone should be able to manage these simple life skills, I tell the woman in the mirror. What is your problem? Sometimes, unable to bear the pressure of such scrutiny, I look around for someone or something else to blame rather than face my deep fear that this just goes to show that I am a terrible and incompetent person who can’t be trusted (and probably can’t be loved), impossible to live with.

Only when I express such words to I see the melodrama, bring them out in the light, let the God of grace shine in through the cracks in my fingers when I’ve covered up my eyes.
For by the grace given me I say to every one of you: Do not think of yourself more highly than you ought, but rather think of yourself with sober judgment, in accordance with the faith God has distributed to each of you. For just as each of us has one body with many members, and these members do not all have the same function, so in Christ we, though many, form one body, and each member belongs to all the others. We have different gifts, according to the grace given to each of us. If your gift is prophesying, then prophesy in accordance with your faith; if it is serving, then serve; if it is teaching, then teach; if it is to encourage, then give encouragement; if it is giving, then give generously; if it is to lead, do it diligently; if it is to show mercy, do it cheerfully.  (Romans 12:3-8)   

Tuesday, September 28, 2010

Losing Track of Time

The Persistence of Memory, by Salvador Dali.
Some days I could use a bit more persistence.
Sometimes I send emails and post things to the Internet while I'm traveling and don't tell my computer we're in a different time zone. I don't know if that's ever caused significant confusion for anybody; often I'm just off by an hour or two.

But this summer I quite confused myself when, after looking at my computer's calendar settings to see what day of the week something was happening, I accidentally moved my computer's date settings ahead by several months.

I didn't realize the problem until I was looking for something in my "sent mail" and discovered it seemed to have been sent several weeks in the future. I changed my settings back, but when the future became the present and then the past, my correspondence was out of order and intermingled.

"Don't get ahead of yourself," advised my friend S :-) Maybe that's the only lesson to learn here.

When we visited the clock and watch museum in Pennsylvania (see previous post A Brief History of Time Keeping) I was fascinated to learn how new are our notions of time and how to measure it . America's railroad operators initiated the movement to promote a common standard. "The day with two noons" in November 1883 was an attempt to keep trains from colliding and reduce the number of passengers in one city from missing their connections in another.

Do you think I could miss a deadline and cover it up with an explanation that I'm simply operating off a lunar calendar or that my clock wound down a few weeks ago?

Monday, August 09, 2010

Crossing the Country by Covered Wagon

Wagon ruts along the Oregon Trail. Photo source here.
I knew the great "Pony Express" was rendered obsolete by the introduction of the telegraph less than two years after it began,  but I only just discovered that another touchstone of American history, the settlement of the West by pioneers in covered wagons, lasted just over one generation (1840-1869). At that point the completion of the railroads chopped the journey west from a treacherous trek of six months to a mere one-week train trip.

One spot through which all those covered wagons were driven -- carrying about 500,000 pioneers in that 29-year period -- was Casper, Wyoming. You know what they say: location, location, location. Casper is near what may be the best route across the Rockies. It's built beside the once-great Platte River, which travelers coming West had followed for hundreds of miles. Here each "emigrant" -- having left the United States -- would say goodbye to the river and strike off for destinations like Oregon, California, and Utah.

On my own way back to Colorado last week I visited the National Historic Trails Interpretive Center as well as several of the nearby places of significance to those who traveled these trails.

The people of Casper seem to have accepted the fact that their home is and apparently always has been a place people come through on their way someplace else. In fact, they've built up a modest tourist industry around that part of their history.

It doesn't start with the covered wagons, either. The 80,000 settlers who came through on the Oregon Trail were following in the footsteps of Arapaho, Lakota Sioux, and Shoshone.

Some 70,000 Latter-day Saints came, too, fleeing persecution and seeking their own promised land. Many of the most helpful tools and strategies for surviving the trip were developed by the Mormons. They liked rules; they were disciplined and organized. It made them successful.

When the California gold rush got under way, the once-lonely trail became a highway. One local resident noted that 600 wagons had passed by his house in a single day. I was please to read a journal entry reporting a would-be prospector on horseback heading the other direction. He was returning to his family in the East, explaining that he simply couldn't go on; he "loved his wife more than gold."

Native Americans who may have previously been glad of trading partners and scouting jobs now complained that there wasn't enough food to go around; these people were moving in and taking over as if the land were not already inhabited.

But those covered-wagon days were brief. Maybe they left such a strong narrative behind because they left such a mark on the families who took those trails. It was probably the hardest, bravest thing they had ever done. It took so much courage. Many people thought you were crazy to try it. Others envied you. It was a little like going to war. Or traveling to another country. In a way, it was both.

Have you ever been in that kind of situation? The emotions run so high. You don't know if you will survive. If you do, it knits you together together with others who have made that journey, especially the ones who traveled by your side. It may have been a brief experience in the context of a lifetime, but it will stay with you all your life. You save the souvenirs. You pass down the stories to children and grandchildren.You set up museums and hold reunions or commemorative events.

So many lost so much along the way. The more crowded the trails became, the more they were lined with dead animals, broken-down wagons, abandoned treasures, and hundreds and hundreds of graves. Children fell off the wagons and got run over. Others emigrants grew sick and died -- cholera was a big killer. They might drown in a river crossing or be caught in a storm. Not many were killed by Indians or wild animals, but some were.

Timing was important. Everyone knew that if you started at the right time, you'd find enough spring grass along the way to feed your stock. Wait too long and you'd risk getting caught by an early snow in the mountain passes. You'd probably make it to your destination before snowfall if you reached Independence Rock by the fourth of July. That must have been a jubilant place; everyone stopped to scamper up the rock and carve their names. There were dances, and sporting events, and weddings there. A huge celebration took place every July 4.

By the time you'd reached this point, you had gone through a lot. Some of the things you feared had not come to pass, at least not yet. Others you overcame and survived. You'd followed the Platte River longer than you could remember. I bet the kids had stopped asking, "are we almost there yet?" Living out of a wagon was starting to feel normal.

You still had at least another thousand miles to go.

Saturday, August 07, 2010

Driving back to Denver

The Columbia Gorge, Eastern Washington

at Lake Coeur d'Alene, Idaho
Ranch just off the freeway in Montana

Driving through Wyoming

At Ayres Natural Bridge Park, Wyoming

Friday, August 06, 2010

Along the Snohomish

On a cloudy summer morning - the last day of July, and my last day in Washington before coming back to Colorado - Dad, Jennie and I went for a walk along the Snohomish River. Here's some of what we saw.



Monday, July 12, 2010

Not Journeying Alone

Last Wednesday morning, after a night in Salt Lake City, I headed further West. Spent much of the day whizzing through Idaho. In the middle of the afternoon I found myself in Eastern Oregon. I stopped to take a few photographs of a stunning lake surrounded by dry red hills, and the lush park next to it.

I figured I could go a bit further before filling my gas tank but wanted to clean off my windshield before getting back on the highway, and pulled into the lonely service station.

Perhaps surprised to see my Honda Accord parked in front of a pump on the diesel side of the station, a fellow traveler called out to me, warning me that those were all diesel pumps and did I realize how low my right front tire was?

Ah, yes, it is, isn't it? Tires are something I tend to worry about. Is that bumpiness just the road, or something wrong with my tire? I will peer at them uncertainly, trying to decide if they are a bit flat, or normal. Perhaps I should get myself a tire gauge and get in the habit of using it.

"You should get some air," said the man with confidence. "You really should."

So I found, on the other side of the large plot of land, one of those air/vacuum contraptions, and I put in my four quarters. It didn't seem to be working. Entering the cool, dark station the girl working the cash register if there was a trick to making the air work. She explained that the power had just gone out across the whole area. Maybe if I waited it would come back on. I lingered in the shop a bit, then went out to look at my tire again, wondering what to do.

A second person called out to me. Parked in an enormous semi truck by the side of the road, he honked his horn, waving for me to come over. "I notice you're having trouble with the air," he said. "See that place across the street? I just came from there, and they are reasonable, and fair, and just did some work for me. They can help probably help you out with your tire."

Sure enough. That's where I met the third man, the one who told me to pull my little car into the huge, open garage where he and a couple other guys were hanging out; they repaired broken down trunks. Without power there wasn't much they could do, but they could put some air in my tire. They thought it would be a good idea to take the tire off to see if I'd picked up a nail on the road and might have a slow leak. What with all the summer construction and everything...

The nearest gas station, besides this one, was another 30 miles and over a mountain pass. I learned that from another guy who came from the place across the street, desperate for enough gasoline to get him to Baker City. But the gas station wasn't doing any business with the power out. The truck repair guys gave him what he needed for a couple dollars a gallon. 

They patched and filled my tire and gave me the nail as a souvenir. I gave them a $20 which my new friend said they'd use for bait money; they had a fishing launch tied up down at the dock.

I went on my way, wondering what would have happened if these three men hadn't spoken up to help me fix a problem I didn't know I had.

Monday, September 28, 2009

Travel and Pain

I used to tell people I was the missionary who doesn’t like to travel, which is both true and not true. I don’t usually say that anymore; travel has become more of a commonplace. Neither the stress nor the opportunity cost are as high as once they were; I’m just carrying on life from a different zip code. Or a different country code.

But what I seldom admit, even to myself, is the dull ache that often comes when I’m on the road – that sense of distance from my own place in the world, especially the disturbing disorientation of not understanding maybe 30, 50, 70 percent of the action and conversation going on around me. At least, that’s how it is when I’m in another country.

Yeah, you can usually find an English speaker, but that's only when they are talking to you. Otherwise, they are thinking and speaking in a language you may not understand. It would take years before you could eliminate the guesswork factor in watching the news or reading the paper, or making out street signs, menus, or things for sale in the shops.

Why should it be otherwise? You’re the outsider there, you know. And rarely is there a full-time interpreter at your side. For me, almost never. I don’t suppose I need one. But I feel a twinge of jealousy for friends who go on some two-week trip in the expert hands of a guide, never forced to feel the effects of being a stranger in a strange land.

I have enough experience to have a pretty good idea what kinds of things can happen, and the range of ways in which to interpret my surroundings. I can ask questions, or just coast, or charm my way through. But the loss of independence and competence sometimes feels like waking up and not having two arms anymore.

Maybe the typical tourist does not feel it so much. You certainly don’t get pick up on this if you’re just an armchair traveler. Guys like Rick Steves make it look so easy, don’t they? They seem so comfortable with themselves and their host cultures. Maybe if they didn’t have a camera crew, hired drivers and “fixers” (not to mention editors and producers), they wouldn’t go from one wonderful cross-cultural serendipity to another.

But real cross-cultural travel is no more like a travel show than family life is like a sitcom, and it doesn’t wrap up in half an hour. It goes on and on, and while there may be wonderful moments, there's often a lot of pain and confusion in between, just like trying to learn anything new and complicated that you aren't naturally good at.

I was trying to remember that on Saturday, when I dropped by the European food and culture festival at the park near my house. Tears came to my eyes as I watched the Bulgarian dancers, chose between a piece of baklava or a couple of pirogies, and listened to some guy speaking Russian on his cell phone. I wanted to be overseas again. I missed this kind of stuff. I identified with these bi-cultural people.

But I have to admit it isn’t all fun and games, traditional foods and dances. Learning to be okay with yourself when you’re the person caught between cultures – or between subcultures – it’s a lot of work. It's exhausting.

It’s the kind of thing that will drive you to prayer and force you to listen to your emotions and pay attention to your fears and expectations.

It takes faith.

So, is that a down-side or an up-side?

Overall, I find it more positive than negative.

Sunday, September 27, 2009

Traveler

“Oh, how interesting.” That’s what people usually say when I share with them one of the dozen or so ways I might explain what it is I do for a living. And sometimes they mean it. Other times they are just being polite.

But when I meet people who live the same kind of life as I do, they volunteer a connection that lets me know that we are fellow members of a far-flung tribe: travelers, that’s part of it. Internationals, in a way. People who have lived and worked in other countries, not just vacationed there. People with global connections. And not just consumers, but people who have what I sometimes hear called “a heart for the world.” I don’t know if I like that term, though I can’t suggest a better one.

You probably know that tribal feeling; most of us belong to more than one or more such defining community. I feel much the same at the airport when I line up for a flight to Seattle and look around at the other people getting on board. In some hard-to-place way I can tell they are my kind of people; not like the ones lining up at the next gate for a trip to Dallas. Yes, we’re from the Pacific Northwest, the Left Coast. We’re dressed for rain. We recycle.

Similarly, I bet the kids at last week’s anime festival in New York feel the same way about each other. Or a group of NASCAR fans, or stay-at-home-moms, or Eritrean immigrants. (Maybe there’s even a club for NASCAR-loving Eritrean immigrant stay-at-home moms.)

I suppose I’m unconventional. But I’ve never been one of those people – are they, in a way, a tribe too? – who take pride in being weird, different, special, not like everyone else. Part of the appeal of spending time with people I think are like me is that they won’t look at me as if I’m some strange exotic creature.

The last few days I’ve had a lot of interaction with people who are part of that “internationals” tribe, and not just my coworkers and the people who write the usual flow of emails and articles I read.

  • There was the woman who called asking if we’d ever done ethnography on the lives of Somali refugee women, or knew someone who had. I gave her some good tips.

  • And the fundraiser – er, development officer – for a mission agency who dropped in for some research help. He’d been charged to write a paper about why raising Western funds for major building projects might not be the best way to build up churches overseas.

  • The same day I had coffee with a friend I’d worked with on a project in the Balkans and who recently adopted four kids from Liberia. We talked about African orphanages.

  • Another friend, who leads a church-planting team in Senegal, came through town and wanted to catch up; she needed a place to spend the night on Saturday.

  • At a concert Friday night I met a pediatrician, recently moved to Denver, whose fiancé is working as a surgeon at a Christian hospital in Pakistan. They expect to go back overseas together, probably in the DRC (Congo).

So, Friday afternoon, I was taken by surprise when this happened: Friends of mine who work for another mission agency get together regularly for multi-ethnic potlucks, and sometimes I go, too. This month the theme was Middle Eastern. Someone brought mint tea to round out our repast. “Have any of you ever had mint tea in Morocco?” I asked casually.

They all laughed.

It was the wrong question or came out the wrong way, I’m not sure which, but I immediately realized my words had set me apart. Sure, all of them had traveled, but not to the Middle East, and nobody had been to Morocco. They thought it was funny that I asked.

I was swamped by a wave of embarrassment.

Oh, I got over it. I still told them about the big sprigs of mint in the bottom of the glass, the tea poured over them from two or three feet in the air. But I wished I hadn’t brought it up.

How do you feel when you discover people who have done the unusual things that you have done, or had the same experiences? Do you like having “exotic” stories to tell or feel awkward about being different?

I have four speaking engagements next month. At least two of them will only work if I can do a good job telling culture-crossing stories from my own experience. So this is a good time to push aside any discomfort I have about being part of this tribe.

Thursday, August 27, 2009

Switzerland, Iceland, Moldova, and the Geography of Bliss

>> This is part 2 on The Geography of Bliss. See part 1.

Envy, says Eric Weiner in The Geography of Bliss, is a great enemy of happiness and can be toxic in a community.

The Swiss seem to know this instinctively and go to great length to avoid provoking envy in others. They hate to talk about money:
"I met a few Swiss people who couldn't even bring themselves to use the 'm' word; they would just rub their fingers together to indicate they're talking about money. At first, this struck me as odd, given that Switzerland's economy is based on banking - a profession that, last time I checked, had something to do with money. But the Swiss know that money, more than anything else, triggers envy.

"The American way is: If you've got it, flaunt it. The Swiss way is: If you've got it, hide it." (pp. 31-32)
Eric really seems to take a shine to Iceland. One obvious reason:
"In Iceland, being a writer is pretty much the best thing you can be. Successful, struggling, publishing in books or only in your mind, it matters not. Icelanders adore their writers. Partly, this represents a kind of narcissism, since just about everyone in Iceland is a writer or poet. Taxi drivers, college professors, hotel clerks, fishermen. Everyone. Icelanders joke that one day they will erect a statue in the center of Reykjavik to honor the one Icelander who never wrote a poem. They're still waiting for that person to be born." (p. 147)
The people in this quirky little country (320,000 people) are highly creative people. Consider Larus Johannesson, who owns a small music store and a recording label:
"In his forty-odd years, Larus has earned a living not only as a chess player but also as a journalist, a construction-company executive, a theologian, and, now, a music producer. 'I know,' he says, sensing my disbelief. 'But that kind of resume is completely normal in Iceland.'" (p. 161)
The reason? "Envy," says Larus. "There's not much of it in Iceland."
"The lack of envy he's talking about is a bit different from what I saw in Switzerland. The Swiss suppress envy by hiding things. Icelanders suppress envy by sharing them. Icelandic musicians help one another out, Larus explains. If one band needs an amp or a lead guitarist, another band will help them out, no questions asked. Ideas, too flow freely, unencumbered by envy, that most toxic of the seven deadly sins." (pp. 161-2)
The other factor, said Larus, is failure. Failure there doesn't carry a stigma. Icelanders seem to admire people who fail, especially if they fail for good reasons like not being ruthless enough. Nobody in Iceland goes around telling other people that they aren't good enough to do what they are doing. Their naivety, says Larus, is their greatest strength.

Eric finds the discovery that there's a whole nation of people who are naive and don't see this as a flaw remarkably healing. Twenty years before he'd been fired from his dream job at the New York Times for being "naive and unsophisticated."
"I never really got over the insult. Until now. Sitting here with Larus, in this pitch-dark speck of a nation, I could feel the wound cauterizing. Here was an entire nation of naive people, and they seemed to be doing just fine." (p. 167)
In stark contrast to Iceland is the country of Moldova, which according to the World Database of Happiness is the least happy nation on the planet.

Eric thinks he'll check it out.
"Even the name sounds melancholy. Moldooooova. Try it. Notice how your jaw droops reflexively and your shoulders slouch, Eeyore-like. (Unlike 'Jamaica,' which is impossible to say without smiling.)" (p. 186)
Moldovans say they are unhappy for one reason: money. They don't have enough of it, especially compared to other European countries. So, envy is a big problem; the Moldovans feel like they are at the bottom of the heap and disgruntled about the success of others. Trust is also a factor.
"Moldovans don't trust the products they buy at the supermarket. (They might be mislabeled.) They don't trust their neighbors (They might be corrupt.) They don't even trust their family members. (They might be conniving.)

"Another reason for Moldovan misery? 'People in Moldova are neither Russian nor Moldovan. We have been abused and abandoned by everyone. We have no pride in anything. Not even our languages. There are ministers in the Moldovan government who don't speak Moldovan. They speak only Russian. I hate to say it, but it's true. There is no Moldovan culture.'" (p. 197)
Eric asks about democracy. The Moldovan government may not be perfect, but certainly it's better than Soviet totalitarianism. Right? No, says his contact without the slightest hesitation. Back then people had jobs and a place to live and food to eat, not like now.
"For years, political scientists assumed that people living under democracies were happier than those living under any other form of government... but the collapse of the Soviet Union changed all that... Happiness levels did not rise. In some countries they declined, and today the former Soviet republics are, overall, the least happy places on the planet. What is going on? That old causality bugaboo, political scientist Ron Inglehart concluded: It's not that democracy makes people happy but rather than happy people are much more likely to establish a democracy.
"The soil must be rich, culturally speaking, before democracy can take root. The institutions are less important than the culture. And what are the cultural ingredients needed for democracy to take root? Trust and tolerance. Not only trust of those inside your group - family, for instance - but external trust. Trust of strangers. Trust of your opponents, your enemies, even." (p. 198)
This doesn't bode well for Afghanistan, Pakistan, or Iraq - all nations with fragile democracies, made of diverse peoples whose fates have been bound together somewhat against their will.