I’ve been thinking more and more about the kind of travel I want to do. Alone in a foreign-language speaking country, you’re something of an isolated bubble. There are aspects of this which I very much enjoy. A lot of the inputs of the world are censored out by default. Instead of noticing snippets of things as I move through the world, I see only the larger picture, abstracted and heavily coloured by my preconceptions and state of mind, though I try to not let this be the case.

From this perspective, at this level, people tend to look basically the same. While I expect this to become somewhat less true as I move east into cultures perhaps less influenced by the west, I don’t see things changing that much. Without the ability to dig deep into a place, our overwhelming similarities can blot out our differences. This truth raises, for me, the question of why travel. Based on my brief time in southeast Asia, and conversations and thinking upon said time, I’m convinced that, unless you have a positive, useful reason for going, the places that are the most different from the modern western culture in which I grew up are the places that should most be left alone. While my influence as a poor (and very cheap besides) backpacker is relatively minimal, tourism of almost any kind brings such change to local culture and economies. While I recognize this as inevitable, and realize that there are (supposedly) increasingly options for traveling in a holistically sustainable manner, and I further acknowledge that change of this sort is not necessarily negative, (though much of it is decidedly so) I’m unconvinced that what I might take from such a voyage outweighs the costs I impose in taking it.

That turned into a bit of a rant. I’m just struggling with the balance between going somewhere that’s different and exciting without feeling like it’s all been constructed for tourists like me who came for those reasons. Wanting to feel another culture without distorting it with the weight of my precious American dollars.

Part of all this, I think, is that I’m looking hard for things to say because, so far, Germany’s been a bit boring. It’s beautiful, and fall is a great time to be here. The churches are magnificent, and I’ve had lovely moments. Maybe because I’m moving slower than I usually do traveling, maybe because, without German, I feel I’m bouncing off the surface a bit, and maybe because my mood’s been a bit coloured by a few monetary and logistical setbacks, but whatever the cause, there it is. I have not yet felt that rush, that whole-being fascination that I have with new things really kick in here. Yet.

I’m interrupting this train of thought to relay a sighting of a ruined castle and beautiful, massive red brick church perched on a hill sprinkled with coloured leaves, a slate-grey cliff on one face. It was nothing short of stunning, and I am thoroughly reminded why I am here. The people are much the same, and the broad strokes of modern life are well-established the world over. But there are things and attitudes and ideas and places and vistas here that do not exist in Vancouver. I’m here to find them.

Part of the excitement of that glimpse was the isolation. I’m realizing more and more how entirely the presence of a crowd lessens the impact of a place for me. Of course, if you’re at a show or somesuch, you want a crowd. A deserted downtown is strange and a bit depressing. But a ruin, a chapel, a hike, these are best alone or nearly so. I hope that the time of year enables me to experience some of Europe’s magnificence in relative quiet.