joe's blog

 
Doors closing. Grace leapt out of the subway. The crowding people traded places with her and she was left alone on the platform. The subway cars screeched away and into the next tunnel.

Grace was a girl with shorts, a t-shirt and a small backpack.

She looked for directions pointing to the exit… There! She followed the signs, glancing at the advertisements along the walls. People had torn off and re-arranged the celebrity faces and text. Some of the jokes were pretty funny, “JOHNNY DEPP STARS IN ENGLISH SCHOOL”

As she started climbing up the stairs she began to feel the heat again, the cruel sun. It wouldn’t have been so bad if there had been a breeze, the baking cement sucked too.

Grace reached street level and felt the sun drench her body. She looked around to try to locate herself. Down at the corner she read 50 Street and 8 Ave. Okay, the West side.

She was already sweating through her t-shirt. She needed her breeze. She saw a pizza place called Mario’s Empire and walked towards it. Pushing the door open she felt the gust of A/C hit her face.

The pizzeria was pretty small with only three tables lined against one wall. There was an old man at the table beside the door. He was leaning against the window. Along the other side was a counter with tons of different spices to cover your pizza. She walked up to the cashier.

“What can I get you?” A man asked while pushing a pie around in the oven. His back was to Grace.

“Just a slice and a small Coke,” Grace said casually.

“Sure thing.” He flipped a slice on to a paper plate and got her Coke.

“That’s gonna be two fifty.” He was sweating a lot; the A/C didn’t help with the heat from the oven. He used his apron to mop the sweat off his face. There were some photographs of firefighters poking from the top of the cashier machine. Grace stared at the smiling faces.

She pulled a five-dollar bill from her pocket, got her change and carried her lunch over to the middle table. It felt good to sit down and think without any rush.

“You really gonna go to New York City, Grace?“ She remembered her little brothers asking her. They could not imagine the journey their sister must have taken to get here, but it really wasn’t that bad. The train was comfortable and, for her, this “journey” was long overdue.

Grace was from a town with about five stores. She had been saving money from work that whole year, and New York was at the top of her list. She paid for everything.

It had been pretty great so far. She found a cheap hotel and did something new each day. She walked all over Manhattan; the other boroughs didn’t interest her too much. It was Manhattan that was in the movies and T.V., who cares about the Bronx?

Grace had been in the city for about a week. She felt good wandering around by herself, there was no mystery back home. Her mom didn’t know where she was. Grace’s mom was pretty neurotic and always knew who she was hanging out with, but it was only a train ride after all, no big deal. She knew she couldn’t stay much longer though. She was running out of money quicker than she’d expected, a cheap hotel is not too cheap she realized.

Also the days had been getting hotter and hotter. This made her less motivated to walk around so much, so she started riding the subway. While thinking about all of this she suddenly remembered her pizza, it had cooled down. She had a bite of cheese pizza and washed it down with some Coke.

She looked to her left. The old man was still leaning against the window. He wasn’t sleeping but just stared out into the street. People who walked by would catch his gaze, but would immediately look away and walk on. He just stared on. Grace tried to look as comfortable as him.

During the trip she’d try to melt into each environment like any New York local. Oh sure, this was her favorite pizza place. She came here all the time, who the hell are you?

She took a few more bites and finished the small Coke, but she didn’t want to leave yet.

Soon a family walked into the pizza place. The father and son wore khaki shorts with button down shirts. The mother had a summer dress. They quietly conversed about what they wanted to order. They did not melt in. The sweaty pizza guy perked up.

He pulled out a glob of dough and started tossing it into the air. The family stopped whispering and stared at the show. Small smiles crept into their faces. Grace watched. The old man in the corner stood up.

“AH HELL, THAT AIN’T SHIT!” He hollered at the family.

All three spun around in horror. The pizza guy missed the falling dough and it slapped on the floor. Grace tried to act cool. The old man pushed past the table he was sitting at and marched to the door. When he had left there was an awkward silence in the pizza place.

“Hey well, uh, welcome to New York! Ha-ha!” The pizza guy was embarrassed. The family was still frozen, staring at the old man who stumbled across the street. They had heard about this. They would remember this.

“You all take your time with the menu, have a seat.” The pizza guy said cheerfully.

“Hey, kid.” He turned to Grace. “Get the hell outta here, you finish your slice? Now GO.”

Grace liked that. She tried to stagger out of the pizza place just like the old man had done. She could not stand tourists in the city.
           
The streets were still roasting.
 
INTERVIEW
Q: First of all, I just have to say I love the story.
A: Oh, thanks a lot.
Q: Why did you choose to have it set in New York City? That’s where you are currently living, correct?
A: Yeah, I chose the city because I’m still trying to get used to the shift myself, and I thought it’d be appropriate to use. I wanted to base this project on my own experiences, and not use Google Maps to try to make up a story, which I tried at first.
Q: I saw a similarity between your writing and Ian McEwan, specifically his novella The Comfort of Strangers. Is this coincidence?
  A: No, I was definitely thinking about that book while I was writing this story. I really liked the simple yet ambiguous narration of that story and tried to emulate it in a way. But I also looked at a lot of other travel fictions as well.
Q: Like what?
A: Oh, well the character Daisy Millerwas a sort of foundation for Grace. I wanted to take the challenge of using a young girl as the main character. I wanted Grace to have similar cockiness, but not to such an extreme degree. I was also interested in the idea of losing yourself in your travels. I was specifically thinking about Paul Theroux’s short story “The Gateway of India”. The main character, Dwight, genuinely feels at ease in the crowded streets of Mumbai. I tried to recreate that in Grace’s “melting” into the pizza scene. Also when I chose the name “Grace” I was sort of referencing the heavenly or just religious aspect of the name “Sal Paradise”.
Q: What was the idea behind describing the scenes in such close detail?
A: Well, I figured with a limit of a 1000 words I should try to focus on really describing the scenes I choose because I’ve only got so much to work with. I was also thinking about the main character in Xiao Lu Guo’s A Concise Chinese-English Dictionary for Lovers. I really liked how Z would note every little event that happened, I thought this would be a good quality for a first time New York trip. I am constantly overwhelmed by the tiniest events that happen on the streets, so I tried to translate this into Grace’s character.
Q: There is an obvious theme of authenticity in this story. Are there any comments you have about the desire of authenticity?
A: It’s an essential part of any trip. Writers like Hemingway and Kerouac loved to write about the interaction between locals and travelers. It’s a really enigmatic and beautiful relationship, because there is always the ephemeral overtone. I tried to emulate the “shrouded traveler” in Kerouac’s On the Road as the angry man. Grace is inspired by this man’s raw and authentic New York spirit. Also she is aware that her trip will soon come to an end and so she tries to experience as much as possible in the time she has. What could be a better conclusion to a trip than getting being mistaken for a local?
Q: So that was a triumphant moment for Grace?
A: Definitely. It’s my own sort of take on “the abyss” of travel. Paul Bowles’ The Sheltering Sky had some influence on my understanding of this feeling of losing yourself in travel, but I like to think mine is a bit more up beat. Instead of having the abyss represent an existential loss of hope I had my character embrace and celebrate this loss of identity. Grace is happy to be considered just another face in the crowd.
Q: Could I have your autograph?

This novel, once again, was like none of the other travel fictions we have read. Maybe it is pointless to say this, because there will obviously be dissimilarities between all stories. Of all the books we read Sputnik Sweetheart had the least amount of material focused on the theme of travel, but it could be argued that these chapters were most essential. Although the overall story takes place in Japan, the two female characters, Sumire and Miu, and even the narrator experience pivotal moments in their life when they travelled abroad, this is no coincidence. Murakami chooses not to have the characters actually discuss ideas behind travel, but instead has the reader try to disentangle travel with the major theme of the story, identity. It is easier to speak about Miu, because the reader never gets to hear Sumire’s “epic” journey.
 
When Miu is visiting Switzerland she feels that she is “split in two” and never to be reassembled. The fantastical scenario Murakami creates is totally impossible, but the damage done to Miu is real. Not only does she lose the color of her hair, but also her sexual desires and inner warmth. Why does this happen when she is travelling? I don’t really have a complete answer myself. I do not think it was a simple metaphor for the helplessness of loneliness one feels when travelling alone, but maybe that has something to do with it. Like I said before, the story does not include much on the topic of travel, so I can’t believe that Murakami would have the climax of his story answer a question about this topic. The issue of language barriers in travelling could parallel the reoccurring theme of miscommunication in the novel. It is also worth noting that Miu is actually Korean, and I’m not sure if this is right, but I think she may have never actually learned her native language. This also works with the idea of dueling identities. Miu has her untouched Korean identity, with her father even being a local hero in her hometown, but she is forever linked to her alternate life in Japan.
 
One excerpt involving travel that stuck with me was the narrator’s final night in Greece. He’s visiting the ruins of Athens, finally relaxing during his summer vacation trip contemplating his own identity. He believes he will never be the same person after that night when he must return to Tokyo to resume his teaching. “Not that anyone will notice after I’m back in Japan. On the outside nothing will be different. But something has burned up and vanished.” I found it meaningful that he was saying all of this as he sat below the Acropolis, the ultimate symbol of a past civilization.
            

I shared similar opinions to the other bloggers. I never did get used to the narrator’s broken English, but I still managed to understand what she was trying to say and was moved by some interesting concepts. Also I study Chinese myself and I enjoyed trying to translate the little Chinese that was included as well as imagining the scenes of China Zhuang described.
 
One idea that stood out to me was on page 54. Zhuang expresses her frustration or maybe her excitement over coming to a completely new land. “I not having past in this country. No memory being builded here so far, no sadness or happiness so far, only information,” (54) To some people an idea like this would horrify them. We have encountered this idea before in class, the loss of identity in travel. However, it seems like Zhuang takes more of the “blank canvas” stance. She is not very attached to her homeland. She recognizes and embraces the possibilities Europe has to offer her, such as sexual freedom. I admired how Zhuang would attempt to express such an abstract idea in a language foreign to her, but it was exercises like this that probably improved her English most of all.
 
The one major culture clash that interested me was Zhuang’s struggle with complete independence and the status of a loner. She constantly reminds her lover, as well as the reader, of the collectivist philosophy of The People’s Republic of China. She is accustomed to being surrounded by her screaming family at all times, but also not thinking of oneself as an individual with personal needs. Obviously its not as simple as that, but a good comparison to what would be at the complete opposite end of the spectrum would be travelling around Europe by yourself and acting on any whim. Her lover explains this Western idea to her in a letter during her trip: “In the West we are used to loneliness. I think it’s good for you to experience loneliness… After a while, you will start to enjoy solitude.” (257) Zhuang never does seem to reach this point of independence, but at times she does seem to revel at her freedom of choice. I suppose one cannot expect a person to learn a lesson that completely contradicts their entire life too quickly. Also it seems like Zhuang is never really alone for too long. She continuously attaches herself to men native to each nation she visits. She ignores many of the common laws of travel such as telling strangers her itinerary and lack of contacts. So perhaps Zhuang’s fear of loneliness is more of an emotional and unique quality rather than a cultural difference.
 

 
Paul Theroux’s collection of short stories, The Elephanta Suite, is the first book we have read set in present time. The only major differences are mentions of the iPod, slang terms and other subtle culture notes modern, but this grabbed my attention. I was more confident to make assumptions about the characters, at least the Americans. While, for example, I had to assume the ultra-formal way Winterbourne approaches Daisy as a common custom rather than an eccentricity.
 
Alice and Dwight have similar reasons for going to India. They both wanted to escape their American lives in “mysterious India”. Dwight had a terrible marriage that only lasted a year, and now he felt compelled to prove his independence. Alice was suffering from the typical out of school “What am I supposed to do now?” problem.
 
They both create new identities while in India, and treasure the moments when they are the only Americans around. At one point in “The Gateway of India” Dwight feels he has conquered his fears of India: “That memory shamed him. How could a prosperous American lawyer with a first-class plane ticket feel that way, surrounded by the poorest people in the world?” (138) Slowly through the story Dwight gains confidence and understanding in his status in India. He begins to make less business or capitalist-related statements and thinks of spirituality and social class. At one point Dwight says an idea very unfamiliar to his lawyer friends back home: “He had never in his life felt the passage of time so palpably as he had in India. And he had concluded that, really, nothing was urgent – nothing at all. Maybe nothing mattered.” (156) By the end of the story Dwight seems to have made a complete transformation. He embraces his life with Swamiji and abandons all relations to his past life, but I couldn’t help but wonder if it was going to last. Would Dwight survive the life with an old man he could not speak to in the middle of nowhere in India?
 
Alice’s trip is intentionally spiritual, which is maybe the problem. After losing her obnoxious friend, which immediately becomes a blessing, she travels to Bangalore and attends an ashram. She also gets a job at Electronic City, a Western business assisting major companies like Home Depot. Alice at one point realizes one blessing of travel, the loss of oneself: “Being whoever you wished to be, whoever you claimed to be, was a liberation.” (215) However, towards the end of the story an Indian rapes Alice and this completely throws her off from her spiritual quest.

In The Comfort of Strangers the author, Ian McEwan, takes another unique approach to the subject of travel than the previous writing we have looked at. One aesthetic decision that stood out to me was the distance between the narrator and the main characters, Mary and Colin. Just like we are never actually told the location of the couple’s holiday we never learn Mary and Colin’s last names, they are always simply Mary and Colin. McEwan never spends much time describing at length the thoughts of the characters, but instead grazes over the general feelings and dialogue. This resembled the style of a more child-oriented narrative, and I found myself viewing the characters in a similar light, even though they are dealing with very mature topics. Charles Forceville elaborates on this observation in his article “The Conspiracy”. Forceville notes the writing style’s ambiguity of the characters’ awareness compared to the comments of the narrator.
 
Mary and Colin are not the perfect tourists. They drudgingly visit the famous sites of the town in the first few days of their holiday, but spend most time lazing around at their hotel. When they meet Robert he takes them to his bar. Here the narrator describes an atmosphere we have discussed many times in class and even from our own travels, the quest for authenticity. “They began to experience the pleasure, unique to tourists, of finding themselves in a place without tourists, of making a discovery, finding somewhere real.” (McEwan 29) Mary and Colin are grateful for this privilege and try to enjoy it, even with Robert’s unusual qualities and actions. Mary and Colin are also disconnected from the other tourists, but it is unclear whether this is an elitist or alienated position. When they do recognize their fellow travelers they identify them as a single entity, “a watery background of limbs and clothes.” (96)
 
As the novel continues the reader begins to detect a sense of hostility from Robert and his wife, Caroline. The story ends up being a sort psycho-thriller with the natives being the villains. This is the first time we’ve read a story with such a relationship between the travelers and natives. I felt that this sort of took away from the aspect of travel in the story. It made travel less relevant to the gripping story. I began to disregard the character’s location and focus on the development between the two couples more. I look forward to talking about this in class. 

In the first chapter of Thomas Mann’s novella, Death in Venice, Gustav von Aschenbach has a strong opinion of travel. He does not have any interest or drive to explore the unknown unlike many of the characters we have read about in our previous books. Instead Aschenbach is satisfied with his habitual lifestyle of earnest work ethic. “He had never been tempted to leave Europe. Now that his life had begun its slow ebb, his artist’s fear of not finishing everything… had become impossible to dismiss as a mere humbug. Thus Aschenbach had restricted his existence almost exclusively to the lovely city that had become his home.” (142) However, something clicks inside Aschenbach when he spots an unusual character, a traveler. This red-haired young man, much like the Ghost of Susquehana in On the Road, has a short-lived presence in the story but plays a major role in our main character’s development. Red hair reappears twice in the novella, once with the stubborn gondolier and towards the end with the dramatic guitarist of the street performers. Chris Semansky writes about these men in his critical essay on Death in Venice. Semansky and many others identified these characters as precursors to Aschenbach’s full embrace of the Dionysian life with his orgiastic dream by the end of novel. Before Aschenbach came to Venice, as mentioned before, he lived a very strict life. The people around him noted his incredibly regimented work ethic, waking up early every morning to write for hours. This would be considered the opposition to a Dionysian lifestyle, an Apollonian man. Friedrick Niestchze, a mentor to Mann, wrote about these two dueling sides in his essay The Birth of Tragedy, which was a major influence during the time Mann wrote Death in Venice.

Going back to the topic of travel one part I liked specifically was when Mann described Aschenbach’s hesitation to leave Venice. “The poor tortured manenters the station utterly torn in this way. It is quite late. He has not have a moment to lose if he wants to catch his train. He wants to and yet he doesn’t want to.” (178) I have experienced this same exact feeling, a feeling of “helplessness”, and Mann describes it perfectly. I had to take a train out to my friends’ houses in high school and I would stay there for days at a time. Eventually, I would get sick of it all and walk over to a train station, but of course right when the train would pull in I’d get a phone call from a friend or just an unexplainable pull to stay, and would have to quickly make my decision. Even though it’s entirely up to you with complete control of your destiny, you still feel helpless.  

In both Jack Kerouac’s On the Road and Ernest Hemingway’s The Sun Also Rises each group of characters takes a brief excursion into a foreign land filled with outstanding over indulgence. From these festivities comes benefits and detriments with a better sense of their surroundings and relationships with one another.
 
In On the Road Sal, Dean and Stan drive down to Mexico. This is Sal and Dean’s first time leaving the United States and they’re truly excited. The most memorable event during this adventurous expedition is their day at a brothel in Gregoria. During their time at the brothel they give all their energy to the music and women. The trip to Mexico seems to lose momentum after this event, as if they had shot all their remaining energy into this single event. The men meet a young Mexican boy named Victor who immediately becomes their tour guide. Victor introduces them to his brothers, whom they all get very high with and then continue to the brothel. The establishment appears to be waiting for their arrival. They are the only customers and have the attention of not only every worker, but also a growing audience of locals outside staring in through the windows. They drink heavily and dance through an infinite amount of samba songs blaring on tall speakers. They worship this madness which they had only attempted to reach in Denver and New York: “In the hall itself the din of the music- for this is the real way to play a jukebox and what it was originally for- was so tremendous that it shattered Dean and Stan and me for a moment in the realization that we had never dared to play music as loud as we wanted, and this was how loud we wanted.” During the three tumultuous hours Sal reminisces on how they were able to profile each of the prostitutes with individual personalities. Victor ends the festivities when he sees the bill they have accumulated. They are quickly swept out of the brothel and taken to a bathhouse to clean up.
 
In The Sun Also Rises Jake and his friends experience the fiesta in Pamplona with many similarities and differences to the Mexican brothel. The whole novel seems to be building up to this single event. In their group there is Jake, Bill, Robert, Brett and Mike. The fiesta lasts for seven days and is focused on the daily bullfights. The gang first attends a bullfight and then returns to town to get outrageously drunk. Jake describes the fiesta almost as a stereotypical ancient Greek orgy scene: “It kept up day and nights for seven days. The dancing kept up, the drinking kept up, the noise went on. The things that happened could only have happened a fiesta.... All during the fiesta you had the feeling, even when it was quiet, that you had to shout any remark to make it heard. It was the same feeling about any action.” During the seven days Brett develops a romance with the youngest bullfighter of the fiesta. His name is Pedro Romero and he is incredibly talented and handsome. Throughout the fiesta Mike’s ill will towards Robert becomes more and more apparent and ends in a fistfight at a café between the two of them and Jake. The group soon begins to dissolve with the rejected Robert leaving early and the escalating love affair of Romero and Brett.
 
Both of these experiences obviously have the consumption of mass quantities of alcohol in common. By drinking so much the characters become less inhibited and are able to speak their minds openly, this applies more to the group in The Sun Also Rises. Mike continuously gets drunk and cannot stop himself from tormenting Robert over his love for Brett. Mike would take every chance to jab at him, eventually leading to Robert exploding and knocking out both Mike and Jake. The drinking also contributed to the rise and fall of daily camaraderie. Everyone would meet at the café or bar, but by the end of the night Jake would stumble back to his hotel alone. The Mexican brothel event, however, was short-lived lasting around three hours; this did not give much time for any serious drama. Sal and his friends had to fit as much pleasure as they could into that small timeframe. They did not interact with each other much at all, but instead focused on the women around them. This prevented the chance of having any disputes. From the alcohol there came a shared feeling of chaos and confusion in both events. The characters feel they cannot properly communicate to their companions. The gang in The Sun Also Rises are constantly having huge arguments and losing each other in the crowds of people. While in Mexico the men cannot even speak the same language as the prostitutes. At one point Sal recalls that Dean has become so involved in the scene that he does not even recognize him. Also the rising bill remains a mystery until the very end of the party.
 
There are also many subtler and meaningful connections one could make between the two experiences. One for example would be the interaction they have during these parties with the locals, their hosts. In The Sun Also Rises locals are constantly pushing the group into bars where they insist on spending money on the Americans. Everyday they are greeted with a wave of generosity. During this time of celebration foreigners are accepted as brothers. Sal and the others are extremely lucky to have Victor as their host. He is an honest and kind man who cares only about showing his new American friends a good time. However, since the setting of the Mexican day is at a brothel there are some different pretexts. In this case the group of Americans are the ones shelling out the money, but Sal, Dean and Stan could not care less, they joyfully buy the girls drinks. Both groups respond to the warmth of their hosts with genuine interest in learning about the cultures they are visiting. For example, Brett happily plays the role of the idol for the dancing boys encircling her in the street. Bill learns a Spanish song from a man tapping out the rhythm on Bill’s back and whispering the words into his ear. Finally there is the reoccurring lesson of aiming the wine bag’s spray into one’s mouth without letting any go to waste. Sal, Dean and Stan fall in love with the music of Mexico. Sal even spends a few paragraphs trying to explain the exciting music in both ethnomusicology terms as well as poetically. There are also poignant relationships with certain locals and the travelers. Jake and Monotoya’s relationship is wholly based on the passion for bull riding. From this similarity comes a profound friendship that is only spoiled when Jake leads Romero to Brett. Monotoya believes this will corrupt Romero as an authentic Spanish bull rider, and can therefore never forgive Jake. Sal has a similar relationship with one of the girls at the brothel, the dark-skinned girl. Neither Jake nor Dean ever rally up enough courage to approach her, but merely admire her beauty from across the room. She seems disconnected from the scene of gluttony that they guiltily participate in. They raise her to a pristine status of royalty. This relationship, like Monotoya and Jake’s, is left sort of inconclusive. Also the layout of each situation is never too clear, maybe this is in connection to the heavy drinking but the characters in both novels are constantly being pushed into dark side-rooms. One last interesting similarity between the two stories is the finale of literally washing one self in water. At the end of The Sun Also Rises Jake retreats to the beaches of San Sebastian where he spends a few days relaxing on the sand and swimming in the ocean. While Sal and the others go to a bathhouse immediately after the brothel. This can be seen as a metaphor for purging one self of the sins one had committed. For Jake, especially, it gives an opportunity to self-reflect on the past with a clear mind.
 
Overall, these two scenes share not only a basic scene of celebration, but allows the reader to deeply dive into the minds of the travelers and their surroundings. Hemingway and Kerouac use the seemingly light-hearted setting of good times to create a dynamic environment that could not be conveyed in any other situation.
 
 

Yi Fu Tan’s essay “Place: An Experiential Perspective” was a pretty broad approach to the definition of a “place,” but I think that was the author’s intentions. Tan wanted to clearly state the characteristics of different types of places, ranging from the intimate and personal home to the great nation-state. I found it difficult to consult with this general information when thinking of a specific excerpt from Jack Kerouac’s On the Road. One thing I did pick up on in Tan’s writing is the emphasis on our different senses reacting to our surroundings. Tan says, “It is possible to appreciate the visual qualities of place in one short visit,” Tan goes on to say it is only with time that one becomes acquainted with the more subtle senses of an area, it’s smell, sound and touch. I thought this idea was somewhat supported in On the Road. Sal rapidly travels throughout the cities and towns of the United States, he rarely stops for an extended amount of time. What comes out of this chaotic journey is a frenzy of images. Although Sal does not entirely stick to visuals, for the most part he relies on this way of “actively exploring the world beyond us and getting to know it objectively,” (Tan 152)

I thought D. C. D. Pocock’s essay “Place and the Novelist,” was a bit easier to relate to Kerouac’s experiences. I chose to focus on the interesting episode of the gang visiting Old Bull Lee’s home in New Orleans.

I think this is an interesting section to reference for this assignment because at times it contradicts Pocock’s points for a few reasons. When Kerouac describes the whole event he does not spend much time on describing the house. I think that this is because Old Bull Lee has such an overwhelmingly interesting character, and Kerouac believed that spending time on Lee’s past would shed light on their present place. Pocock says, “Places maybe also be considered people through their associative quality, by which they come to represent particular persons, actions and events.” (Pocock 342) Kerouac describes the “sagging porches running around and weeping willows in the yard; the grass was a yard high, old fences leaned, old barns collapsed.” These are some of the only details he decides to mention about the house. One could connect the dishevelment to Old Bull Lee and his wife Jane’s self-destructive drug abuse, but I don’t think Kerouac imagined these possible metaphors. I think they were actual existing images of William S. Burroughs’ floating lifestyle. Kerouac also does not describe the overall layout of the house, but mentions that Jane is always within earshot of Old Bull Lee’s rants. This description gives the house a sort of hollow feeling. It is only when Sal and the gang come along that the house actually jolts to life.

Jack Kerouac's On the Road is unlike any of the travel fictions we have read so far. It is the first book in which the characters do not leave their own country (besides Mexico in the end). They seem to find enough material within their own homeland to grapple with and understand. Throughout the novel Sal chases his buddy Dean to try and get as much as he can out of him, "to know what he does next and that's because he's got the secret that we're all busting to find." (page 195) There are the redundant metaphors of Dean to America, for example from Carole Vopat's Re-Evaluation. Sal is constantly disappointed by Dean deserting him for his own selfish reasons, and at the end of the novel Sal gives up on America and Dean. The two men are always talking about IT never really figuring out what it is or where they could find it, but to me it seems like they reach IT whenever they dive into their insane conversations, if you can even call them that. They just spew out streams of ideas and memories, and then the other one works off the last dwindling feelings of that story to start up about their own long sermon. They travel all across the nation and along with the reader they lose track of all the places, but always GOING forward, go! go! go! But when they're together they don't seem to care about a thing, they pick up on certain sentimental things in their surroundings and reconnect with each other to start another frenzied discussion. "Dean and I both swayed to the rhythm and the IT of our final excited joy in talking and living to the blank tranced end of all innumerable riotous angelic particulars that had ben lurking in our souls all our lives." (page 208) 
 
They finally leave the country to see the mysterious Mexico, which becomes their "heaven." However, when they get to Mexico they still can't settle in, they have to drive further south to Mexcio City. I kept noticing the fewer and fewer pages left, wondering "Where the hell is this going? Is there a On the Road Pt 2 I’m missing?" Their voyage again ends in disappointment, without ever finding IT.
 
But there were a few parts in Mexico I really enjoyed in connection with aspects of travel. Sal and Dean’s intimate relationship with Victor was incredibly sweet, though I kept thinking Victor was going to rob them at some point. He was just a genuinely nice person. I compared their friendship to Port’s with Smail, based on prostitution and drugs, but Victor seemed much warmer in comparison.
 
Finally, one thing that really blew me away was Sal’s explanation of the feeling he got from looking at the sweating little Indian girl. The idea that natives of such isolated lands will never be aware of the world outside of their limited existence. It was really eerie to read, because I have had the same exact thoughts when visiting third-world countries. What could these people possibly think about? Their entire lives are based on things I will never understand. They might as well be considered a different species. Of course we all have many things in common as well, and maybe Sal and I are over-romanticizing the whole idea, but it sure is a marvelous thing to think about.
 
I have read On the Road before, and I knew even before I started reading it that I would struggle with this blog post. I just really love the book and I can’t focus on specifics or themes, because to me I look at it like one big emotion. I tore through the novel in three days, and read it more for myself than for this blogpost. Here’s the outcome: a rambling and hopefully coherent piece.  

Erik Cohen’s “A Phenomenology of Tourist Experiences,” is a sort of examination of the different types of tourists and what each category seeks in their travels. Throughout the essay I noticed several striking similarities of Cohen’s descriptions to the characters of Paul Bowles’ The Sheltering Sky.
 
On page 181 Cohen makes the connection between “vacation,” and “vacant time,” I had never thought of this connection, and I thought it was an appropriate word to describe a reoccurring feeling I got from Bowles’ writing, vacant. “If tourism becomes central, the individual would become ‘deviant,’ he would be seen as ‘retreating,’ opting out, or escaping the duties imposed on him by society.” (Cohen 181) Port’s motives to go to Africa could be seen as “opting out,” of his own society, tired of the duties he was forced to deal with.
 
Cohen takes on a different stance on the entertainment seeking “tourist,” than a writer Cohen mentions, Boorstin, as well as Port’s opinion. Cohen believes these tourists are not interested in the authentic experience, and rightly so, because sometimes authenticity can be frightening or depressing. Authenticity could ruin a trip with a “terrifying or revolting,” overtone. Port experiences this first-hand. He came across many disturbing sights and hopeless landscapes, which would definitely be classified as authentic North Africa, but is that really an ideal trip?
 
Cohen also quotes another sociologist, MacCarnell, who said “the concern of modern man for the shallowness of their lives and inauthenticity of their experiences parallels concern for the sacred in primitive society.” This comparison is incredibly appropriate because of the theme of reverting back to a less civilized time that we continuously discussed with The Sheltering Sky. By the end of the novel Port and Kit seem to regress to a more primitive state by acting on more spiritual whims than logic and reason.
 
Finally, Cohen makes one statement that strongly resembles Kit’s story towards the end of the novel: “Indeed, in extreme cases the search itself may become a way of life, and the traveler an eternal seeker. Such may be the case with those ‘drifters,’ who get accustomed to move steadily between different peoples and cultures, who through constant wandering completely lose the faculty of making choices, and are unable to commit themselves permanently to anything” This description is eerily similar to Kit when she is own her own in the Sahara. Kit gets passed along from man to man in a daze-like state, never really caring where she will end up. Even in the last paragraph we find Kit is “drifting,” into another anonymous crowd, only to be lost forever.

All of the books we have read do not simply revolve around the subject of travel. The authors created captivating dramas and had aspects of travel intertwined with the development of the plot. I believe that Paul Bowles’ The Sheltering Sky is no exception, if not the strongest example of this style of writing we have so far seen.
 
The characters travel from village to village throughout North Africa, however, Bowles’ similar description of each dismal location blurs each place together. The main characters, like the reader, seem to forget the name of each previous town they visit. The main interest for the reader, and characters, is the dynamic relationships between the three Americans, Port, Kit and Tunner.
 
Port is the one who is most adventurous and curious, he champions travel. At one point he says, “It was often on trips that he thought most clearly, and made the decisions that he could not reach stationary,” but even with this philosophy Port only seems to go out exploring when he can no longer stand his American company. On several occasions he ignorantly wanders out into the unknown, not to interact with the natives, but to lose himself in a state of limbo. Also another unappealing quality to Port is his visits to brothels in the towns they stay at. This seems to be the place where he is most comfortable to live among the locals.
 
Kit has the strongest disconnection with her surroundings. She is always locked up in her room brooding in her self-imposed neurotic behavior. She also has a few xenophobic episodes. For example, in Chapter 10 Kit explores the other cars of the train she is riding and is horrified by what she finds. Hemingway would have taken the opportunity to describe a jovial scene of international camaraderie, but in Kit’s case it quickly transforms into a haunting fever dream. She describes the other passengers as obstacles blocking her from her private room. She steps over, and on, anonymous sleeping men.
 
Finally, there is the Lyle family, who represents the business of tourism in the novel. Mrs. Lyle writes travel books, which the despised tourist uses. She is the ultimate tourist. She constantly insults the humble towns they visit and abuses and harasses the servants at each place they stay. She is also incredibly racist. A character like this completely overshadows the faults of the three Americans.
 
 
 

Ernest Hemingway’s The Sun Also Rises covers the “authentic travel experience,” category we have discussed in class before. All of the characters, especially Jake Barnes, seem to transcend the title of “tourist,” blurring the distinction between the native and the foreigner.
 
Jake has been living and working in Paris for an extended amount of time. Jacob Leland emphasizes this fact in his essay, Yes, that is a roll of bills in my pocket. Leland believes Jake has been fully accepted by the city’s system by working each day in Paris to earn money that he will spend in Paris. In this way he is equivalent to any working Parisian man.
 
Jake and his friends also have a strong grasp on what the city of Paris has to offer. They each have their own favorite cafes, bars and clubs, and they navigate through the city with ease. However, Jake is also confident wherever he goes in the novel. He has already been to all of the cities they visit in the story and have contacts and friends at each of these places. With this experience and knowledge Jake is able to have some truly authentic experiences.
 
At one part in the novel Robert Cohn attempts to make a comment about a cathedral in the city of Bayonne. However, Jake seems to disregard the piece of trivia: “Cohn made some remark about it being a very good example of something or other, I forget what.” This detail only increases the gap between this gang of travelers and the stereotypical tourist.
 
Jake and Bill’s bus ride to Burguete, loaded with the Basque peasants, was one of these experiences and the two men take full advantage of the opportunity. By the end of the journey they have all become great friends, and Jake and Bill also are able to learn how to properly drink from a wine bag, a local trick. There is never much time spent in describing the real tourist groups.
 
Hemingway always presents the tourist groups Jake encounters as one anonymous collective. The Christian pilgrim group on the same train as Bill and Jake only contribute inconvenience by taking all the dining car reservations. Neither of them makes an effort to know any of their fellow countrymen, but instead silently curse them.    
 
The book has incredible details. Hemingway is a master at describing the beautiful landscapes of Spain, and this humorously blends with Jake’s nonchalance of traveling.
 
Finally, one aspect of the novel that really stood out for me was the tremendous description of Jake and Montoya’s relationship. Hemingway perfectly conveys the relationship one has with a person from another country with all of it’s beauty and constraints. The two men share a common love for bull riding, and the simple dialogues they have about the subject reflect this unique relationship I am talking about. Both men greatly respect each other, but also acknowledge the barriers of language and cultural differences that prevent them from having an even more sincere union.  

Henry James’ Daisy Miller tells the story of a young man, Mr. Winterbourne, hopelessly trying to keep track of the flirtatious Daisy Miller as she stirs up trouble and gossip wherever she goes in Europe. The obvious role that travel plays in the development of the story is Daisy Miller’s disregard for European customs.
 
Throughout the short story Daisy’s public flirting with the men of Rome cause much entertaining gossip for the locals, as well as embarrassing misrepresentation for other Americans in the area. Daisy is disinterested in observing the social rules of the European cities she visits, she only looks for good times. However, there are many other subtler ways that James uses the art of travel to embellish the characters in his story.
 
Daisy’s younger brother, Rudolph, frequently complains of traveling and wishes to return home. Rudolph’s character is also the main source of humor in the story. This combination of qualities not only makes Rudolph very appealing to the reader, but also represents the childish homesick side every traveler has eventually.
 
Mr. Winterbourne’s aunt, Mrs. Costello, also has an odd take on travel. She has homes both in Vevay, Switzerland, and Rome, Italy. However, during the entire story Mrs. Costello keeps herself locked up because of “daily headaches.” Her main role is to offer advice and information to Mr. Winterbourne on Daisy Miller’s current statuses. However, she also represents the exhausted traveler who is no longer amused with the sights of the each incredible city. She seems content to live in her own little world.
 
There were also little mentions of the topics we had discussed in class before. For example, at one point in the story Daisy’s mother, Mrs. Miller, is telling Winterbourne about her disappointment of Rome. She goes on to say that the disappointment stemmed from so many people telling her how much she would love Rome. This made her create her own ideal city, since she was guaranteed that she would love it. However, when she arrives the city obviously does not match the fantasy she was so excited to see.
 
Also Winterbourne talks about his lack of understanding the American girl after living in Geneva for so many years. At one point his aunt tells him, “You have too long been out of the country. You will be sure to make some great mistake. You are too innocent.” This sheds some light on the idea that a person’s perspective on societies really are formed by their current surroundings and not one’s past or self-identity. Winterbourne does not know how to interact with an outgoing girl like Daisy because such timid European girls have surrounded him for so long.
 
Finally, one subtle quality I interpreted as travel-related was James’ intermittent first-person narration. This gave the impression that he should be a recognized individual, the storyteller. And when else is best to tell stories but traveling?  Throughout the story I couldn’t help but imagine James riding on a train or carriage telling the story of Daisy Miller to whoever happened to sit next to him.

We had been staying at a town called Cheruthuruthi in Kerala, India. It was just one road with assorted shops going up and down it. There were no pependicular streets from this main road, only the occasional empty lot where you could see through to little hovel-like neighborhoods. My friend, Miles, and I got bored of walking through the same town each day, even though there was always more to see. There was a bridge on the outskirts of the town that crossed a river and went mysteriously into a dense jungle. We had heard there was a village called Shoranur that the road led to. So one day we decided to venture out of Cheruthuruthi.

We hailed a rickshaw cab and tried pronouncing the name, the driver understood, and off we went. It was depressingly not as far off as we would have liked, but it was still new terrain for us to explore. We chose a random street to stop at and began walking, examining little trinkets and other products at storefronts. We silently savored our ignorance of our surroundings. Eventually, we made it to the town plaza to find something completely unexpected. There were hundreds of people crowded around gold-adorned elephants, men in full Hindu god costumes, beautiful dancers, groups of traditional drummers, among other great performers. It was the town's annual parade day and we had stumbled into the middle of it! Soon the chaotic crowd formed into a line and began marching, we obviously followed.

The drumming was deafening and there was a large amount of drinking. People quickly began to acknowledge us and we were greeted with incredible enthusiasm. We soon became one of the main attractions of the parade. We were pushed to the very front, leading the entire crowd. Town officials would momentarily leave their posts to shake our hands. Many boys came up to us to show off to their friends the little English they knew. "I want to live the American Dream," many of them actually said. We smiled in reply. Countless amounts of people, children and adults, begged us to dance with them, and when we did they beamed ecstatically. This encouragement made our dancing only more and more chaotic (and probably worse), until a point of exhaustion. Occasionally boys would jump in the middle of the circle to show off the Michael Jackson-inspired "moonwalk," or other iconic dance moves. Everyone was so comfortable with each other and tey seemed to accept us so whole-heartedly. However, at the same time it was so hard to relate to them when they treated us like such celebrities.

By the end of the day I felt slightly guilty. I had nothing stolen from me that day, but during the whole experience I was clutching my backpack and wallet. I never once saw a suspicious figure. People genuinely wanted to spend this important day with us strangers. By the end of the day we were returning in another cab reflecting on all the people we had met. The traffic was moving slowly, and like from a Hollywood film we passed almost all the friends we had made that day, waving to each of them and blowing kisses. By the time we had returned to our hotel room, exhausted, images of the day were already slipping away. We reminded each other of certain details the other had forgotten, but it was quickly turning into another lost experience, our "Shoranur Dream."