“But that's the glory of foreign travel, as far as I am concerned. I don't want to know what people are talking about. I can't think of anything that excites a greater sense of childlike wonder than to be in a country where you are ignorant of almost everything. Suddenly you are five years old again. You can't read anything, you have only the most rudimentary sense of how things work, you can't even reliably cross a street without endangering your life. Your whole existence becomes a series of interesting guesses.”
In this quote from Bill Bryson, he highlights the excitement and sense of wonder that comes with traveling to a foreign country where you are ignorant of almost everything. Bryson reflects on the feeling of being like a child again, discovering new things and feeling a heightened sense of curiosity and adventure. This lack of knowledge and understanding is what makes travel so exhilarating for him as it introduces an element of unpredictability and forces him to rely on his instincts and observations to navigate his surroundings. This quote encapsulates the essence of travel and the joy of exploring the unknown.
In today's hyperconnected world, where information is readily available at our fingertips, the idea of being in a foreign country and feeling completely lost may seem daunting to some. However, Bill Bryson's words still hold true in emphasizing the excitement and wonder that come with exploring the unknown. In a time where we are constantly seeking comfort and familiarity, stepping out of our comfort zones and embracing the unfamiliar can bring a sense of childlike curiosity and adventure that is truly unparalleled.
In this quote, Bill Bryson captures the essence of the joy and excitement that comes with traveling to a foreign country where everything is unfamiliar. The sense of wonder and childlike curiosity that arises from being in a place where you are ignorant of almost everything is described beautifully by Bryson.
As we explore new countries and cultures, we are often faced with a sense of childlike wonder and curiosity. Consider the following reflection questions to deepen your understanding of this experience:
Feel free to write down your thoughts or discuss these questions with a friend to gain different perspectives on the joy of being lost in a new and exciting place.
“But that’s the wonderful thing about foreign travel, suddenly you are five years old again. You can’t read anything, you have only the most basic sense of how things work, you can’t even reliably cross the street without endangering your life. Your whole existence becomes a series of interesting guesses.”
“I can't think of anything that excites a greater sense of childlike wonder than to be in a country where you are ignorant of almost everything.”
“Distance changes utterly when you take the world on foot. A mile becomes a long way, two miles literally considerable, ten miles whopping, fifty miles at the very limits of conception. The world, you realize, is enormous in a way that only you and a small community of fellow hikers know. Planetary scale is your little secret.Life takes on a neat simplicity, too. Time ceases to have any meaning. When it is dark, you go to bed, and when it is light again you get up, and everything in between is just in between. It’s quite wonderful, really.You have no engagements, commitments, obligations, or duties; no special ambitions and only the smallest, least complicated of wants; you exist in a tranquil tedium, serenely beyond the reach of exasperation, “far removed from the seats of strife,” as the early explorer and botanist William Bartram put it. All that is required of you is a willingness to trudge.There is no point in hurrying because you are not actually going anywhere. However far or long you plod, you are always in the same place: in the woods. It’s where you were yesterday, where you will be tomorrow. The woods is one boundless singularity. Every bend in the path presents a prospect indistinguishable from every other, every glimpse into the trees the same tangled mass. For all you know, your route could describe a very large, pointless circle. In a way, it would hardly matter.At times, you become almost certain that you slabbed this hillside three days ago, crossed this stream yesterday, clambered over this fallen tree at least twice today already. But most of the time you don’t think. No point. Instead, you exist in a kind of mobile Zen mode, your brain like a balloon tethered with string, accompanying but not actually part of the body below. Walking for hours and miles becomes as automatic, as unremarkable, as breathing. At the end of the day you don’t think, “Hey, I did sixteen miles today,” any more than you think, “Hey, I took eight-thousand breaths today.” It’s just what you do.”
“So here I am, my affections torn between a postal service that never feeds me but can tackle a challenge and one that gives me free tape and prompt service but won't help me out when I can't remember a street name. The lesson to draw from this, of course, is that when you move from one country to another you have to accept that there are some things that are better and some things worse, and there is nothing you can do about it. That may not be the profoundest of insights to take away from a morning's outing, but I did get a free doughnut as well, so on balance I guess I'm happy.”
“[About Uluru] I'm suggesting nothing here, but I will say that if you were an intergalactic traveler who had broken down in our solar system, the obvious directions to rescuers would be: "Go to the third planet and fly around till you see the big red rock. You can't miss it." If ever on earth they dig up a 150,000-year-old rocket ship from the galaxy Zog, this is where it will be. I'm not saying I expect it to happen; not saying that at all. I'm just observing that if I were looking for an ancient starship this is where I would start digging.”
“I love everything about motels. I can't help myself. I still get excited every time I slip a key into a motel room door and fling it open.”