This is the second post in a WP challenge (“Bloganuary”) to write something every day throughout January with the aid of a prompt. The above title is the prompt. I have added the question mark.
This post neatly follows on from yesterday’s about my teenage years, which ended on the beach at Matala in Crete. It was a road trip I took at the age of 19, hitch-hiking from Dieppe to Istanbul. This little adventure has become an important part of my life’s narrative.
Now, I cannot think of a road trip I would like to take. I could re-trace my steps across Europe, but I feel that I would be disappointed by how places have changed since that first trip. We are talking about 1973, and I know from TV shows that Istanbul itself has changed dramatically. I remember being escorted into the kitchens of cafes and restaurants to choose food. I ate fish freshly caught and cooked on the Bosphorus Bridge (now called “The First Bosphorus Bridge”, but it was the only one at the time – an example of how the city has changed). In Athens, I slept for a few pence (drachma) on hotel roofs,
And as places change, so do the people. A big part of my trip was all the amazing people I met from across the world. I met a lot of young people from the USA, including new army recruits preparing for service in Vietnam. There was a memorable party on the beach at Matala, the troops arriving by helicopter, laden with burgers and booze. I say “memorable” in that I remember it happened, but the specific details have deserted me over the years. Or maybe they had deserted me by the following morning. I do remember earlier conversations where my USA friends were surprised I had not heard of McDonald’s, and with great prescience said that in time I would know all about them (the first UK McDonald’s opened in 1974).
Society has changed and the political conflicts and tensions across the globe makes it feel less safe to travel, especially on my own. There is probably a conflation here between these changes and my willingness to put myself at risk – coupled with my decreased tolerance for discomfort as I have grown older. While I think travel is probably riskier now than in the past, my younger self was probably too naive to understand all the extant risks.
Rather than a road trip, I think closer to my soul now would be a footpath trip. I have often thought about following one of the lovely routes across scenic parts of the UK, such as coast to coast along Hadrian’s wall, or the South West coastal path. My achievement thus far – a fraction of the Nene Valley Way, parking my car nearby and trekking across a muddy field with my camera, and maybe a can of beer. As I said, I like my comforts these days.
The Frothy Filosofer 