Little Excursions

Big-time trips are fun.

They can expand our horizons. They can show us new ways of looking at life. They can expose us to kinds of foods we never imagined existed.

Going to far-away places is a good, good thing.

But for many of us, those types of trips are the exception, not the rule.

Because of that, we need to take advantage of day trips, places and sites that are close by. Little excursions can do the same thing that our "big" trips can, just on a smaller scale, on a different level.

When I lived in Fort Worth, a friend and I had always talked about going to Archer City, a city literally in the middle of nowhere. Archer City is about 100 miles northwest of the Dallas-Fort Worth Metroplex. Traveling there makes one feel as if they are really stepping out onto the western frontier.

The reason we wanted to go to Archer City was to visit an enormous bookstore. At the time, this bookstore filled four or five buildings in downtown Archer City. The bookstore had just about anything you could imagine wanted to buy.

Why was such an incredible bookstore located in Archer City? That is where famous American author, Larry McMurtry (of Lonesome Dove fame, among other great works), lives and runs his store. Up until recently, his bookstore, there, filled an entire city block. I read that he recently auctioned off and sold many of the items, though a good many still remain there.

My friend and I had always wanted to go see it. So one day we did. And while there, we had the most incredible discovery:

McMurtry, himself, was there that day. I had read that he did not like to bombarded at his store, by visitors, but that he was okay with taking the occasional picture or two (he's the one on the left, by the way!).

The chance encounter with McMurtry was nothing spectacular, in and of itself. He wasn't particularly friendly, didn't invite us over for coffee or tea, or anything like that. But simply meeting him was such an incredible surprise and treat.

The great experience did not happen on a trip to a far-away land, though it surely could have. It happened about less than two hours from home.

Those are the types of things that can happen . . . when we're open to them . . . when we take the time to step away, outside of our normal day-to-day lives . . . and travel.

Way Out

Craig and Linda Martin have a wonderful podcast called Indie Travel Podcast. The Martins are full-time travelers, travelling all around the world. They record their travels, experiences, and advice on their podcast. They do a number of things to make ends meet, such as teaching English in countries they travel to and providing all types of wonderful services on their web site.

The name of their podcast, and web site, too, are very aptly named. They travel independently. They try to experience different cultures for what they are, attempt to learn from them, and to better themselves because of their experiences. Rick Steves calls it being a back-door traveler. Arthur Frommer refers to it as living as a local. I say it's a wonderful way to travel.

I was listening to the Martin's podcast on Rome recently and was struck by a line from Craig. He was describing an experience of traveling around Italy. They carefully planned their route, even going as far as doing a test run of one particular day of traveling on an overnight train. But, when it came time to do the actual traveling, the subway station was shut down for renovations. Fortunately, they figured out an alternative route, on the fly. But the experience caused quite a panic. Here is how Craig described it:

"No matter how well you planned . . . it just doesn't come off. And you have to learn to relax, and go with the flow, and breath deeply, and just let it happen. I think it was a real turning point for my way of thinking as a traveler."

That's a great way of describing the surprises and mysteries of traveling.

It reminded me of an experience we had a couple of months ago in London, a turning point for our way of thinking, too. On a return trip from a stay in Budapest, we had a overnight layover in London. We were staying at a hotel, not too far from Heathrow (which, by the way, is the world's worst airport). I had the route mapped perfectly from our terminal to the front door of the hotel. The only problem was the route was not at all like it was supposed to be.

We had one problem after another. The bus wasn't where I was told it was going to be. The airport rep's gave us bad information. But we finally made it. I had a couple of alternative plans already figured out. We decided to take one of those alternatives, the Tube (subway), to the hotel. But once we got off the Tube, my route did not make sense with how the streets were actually laid out. And, to make matters worse, there was a huge storm system camped out over the city.

I could continue to bore you with the details of how we actually got to the hotel. But suffice it to say, we got there . . . soaking wet . . . miserable . . . and not at all happy. We, too, panicked; and, well, it didn't do us any good. No matter how well I planned, and I did plan well, it just didn't come off as planned.

Fortunately, after a cooling-off period, we did relax, went with the flow, breathed deeply, and just let it happen. We then went on to experience a nice night in London, seeing many of the sights the city centre has to offer.
We were trying to find a way out of our predicament. Had we just calmed down and tried to keep our wits about us, we would have realized that the Tube actually has some good signage, if you just stop and look for it:

As Americans, we were looking for things posted the way we are used to, with "Exit" signs or other types of directions in our vernacular. But, when you travel, things are not designed just to meet your needs. And you have to adapt . . . or get frustrated. The term "way out" did not make sense to us, initially. But once we stopped and thought about it, we understood what the sign meant and noticed that the way we wanted to go actually had great bits of help and information.

That's what travel can do. Travel can help us see a new way of looking at things. Travel can help us learn about new ideas, new words, new thought patterns. It's not that we necessarily need to accept everything we encounter and embrace it as our own, without any sort of evaluation. But if we are open to new ideas and new thoughts, we can learn from them, take them back to our normal surroundings, and be better people because of those experiences.

But we have to "learn to relax, and go with the flow, and breath deeply, and just let it happen."

When the Saints Go Marching In

I had the pleasure of being able to spend last weekend in New Orleans. What a city. This was my third trip there; and every time I go, I do not want to leave.

There are places we go in which one visit is enough. When we return there, we think to ourselves, "Same old place, nothing new here." To some degree, the same could be said of New Orleans. But even among the same old buildings and the same old streets, there is a life found there that is unmatched elsewhere.

I found that to be particularly true while marching through the streets of the French Quarter on Saturday. Yes, that's right, marching through the streets.

Well, if you know me, you know I don't do much marching (unless you count my days in high school marching band). And I do not do much dancing. So for me, it was more like walking. But still, it was pretty darn cool:

My wife and I attended a wedding of some friends. At the end of the reception, the party literally (and planned, I should say) spilled out onto the streets. Led by a small marching jazz band, we were escorted by police through some blocked-off streets of the French Quarter. In the picture above, we are heading down Royal Street toward Canal Street, up to the famous Hotel Monteleone. We took a right turn, then headed the other direction for many blocks up Bourbon Street, before ending at our hotel on Orleans Street, with a powerful rendition of When the Saints Go Marching In.

It was quite an experience. The wedding party danced (or walked, with heads bobbing, in my case) through the streets, cheered on by people lining the streets and balconies. They cheered and cheered and cheered. Simply put, they had no idea what they were cheering for. All they saw was an incredible band marching down the road, with a newlywed couple in front of them and a crowd behind them. But they felt energized by what they were witnessing and they welcomed us to pass by. For a moment, we were all there together, cheering, dancing (or head-bobbing), and enjoying life . . . well, just for the sake of life.

I rarely feel energy like that. New Orleans always gives it to me . . . though never quite like I experienced this past weekend.

That's what travel can do, if we are open to it. It can take us out of our normal surroundings, give us incredible, life-filling experiences, and then place us back into our normal, day-to-day lives changed, refreshed, renewed, perhaps even transformed.

To borrow a phrase from the Red Stripe commercials . . . "Hooray, Travel!"

A Little More Anthony Bourdain Than Samantha Brown

I like watching Samantha Brown's shows. She goes to some really cool places and stays in great hotels. If you are not familiar with her, she has a few different shows that air, fairly regularly, on the Travel Channel. One of her most popular shows is Great Hotels.

On the other hand, I have never made it through an entire episode of one of Anthony Bourdain's shows. Bourdain also has some shows that air on the Travel Channel. He also travels to some interesting places. But he, and his show, are a bit more edgier. With Bourdain, things do not all tie together in a nice, neat package at the end of the show. He goes to places most tourists would never even think about going to; and he meets the most interesting people, who truly capture what that place or city is all about.

It hit me while walking the backstreets of the Garden District on a recent trip to New Orleans why I have never made it through a Bourdain show: it hits really close to home. Watching Bourdain travel around the world is sort of like watching what I would imagine I would want to see and experience if I were in his shoes.

Sure, I'm not nearly as brash or as crash as he is. But I do share a number of characteristics with him and his personality. 

But more importantly, I like to get off the beaten path and experience a city or place for what it really is, behind the main tourist drags, underneath the glitz that a city tries to portray to its visitors. Sure, I like to see a city's hot spots and important landmarks. But I also like to experience places that I travel to for what they truly are: with all their warts and also their wonderfully new way of looking at and doing things.

I can watch an entire episode of Samantha Brown's shows with no problem. I enjoy learning about places I want to go and hotels I could only dream about staying in. But those are accommodations that I do not really want to stay in, when I stop and think about it. 

What I want to stay in is places where I get to know local people . . . and fellow travelers. I do not really want to spend half a day in a spa, as Brown often does. I would rather spend that time wandering streets that most tourists have never even heard of. That does not make me right or wrong, nor does it make the tourists who flock to touristy places right or wrong. It's a matter of opinion, a matter of taste. Different strokes for different folks. 

I guess I have never finished a Bourdain show because it forces me to see or think about how I actually travel and who I really am. As we all do, I often do not want to take the time or the effort to see myself for who I truly am . . . and evaluate myself for who I truly want to be. But I am going to try to do that here, on my travel blog. I will try to describe things a little more like Anthony Bourdain than Samantha Brown-because that is simply who I am.

This is my travel blog. I want to describe my travels. I want to share what they have meant to me. And hopefully, along the way, I can be of help to fellow travelers out there.

And maybe, just maybe, the next time a Bourdain show comes on TV, I might just sit down and make it all the way through it.

I took this picture on my recent trip to New Orleans, on a sidestreet in the Lower Garden District. I love it. I think it really captures what I love about that city. And I think it captures what I love about travel . . . and a little bit of who I am:

Oh, You're a Youth Minister?

That's a question I have been asked more times than I care to count. And it happened again yesterday.

Generally, people don't mean anything by it. They're not trying to be rude or insensitive or anything. They just have it in their head what a youth minister talks like . . . or looks like . . . or acts like.

And I am definitely not it.

That's okay. It really is. And the more times this happens, the more okay I become with it. But still, it does sting a little bit. And like I said, it's not necessarily the fault of the person who says it. Over the past few decades, people see, more often than not, youth ministers as:
*Trying to look hip with their clothes
*Wearing a goatee (males, mostly . . . I hope)
*A little loud, a little obnoxious
*Very extroverted

If you know me, you know that I am none of the above. But what I have just done above is made a prototype of a youth minister. A person must be (A), (B), (C), or (D) to be a youth minister. And if we don't watch ourselves, these prototypes can easily become a stereotype.

And there's nothing good about stereotypes.

The temptation to do this does not just happen with youth ministers, it happens with all people, in all kinds of different roles. Doing this is part of what it means to be human. People do it to me . . . and I do it to them.

So how do we deal with this? To be honest, I'm not totally sure. I think one thing that helps is getting to know people. It's easy to stereotype a youth minister . . . until you get to know someone doesn't fit that mold. It's easy to think that people of a certain race . . . until you get to know someone who isn't. It's easy to think that people who are homosexual fit into a certain type of mold . . . until you get to know someone who isn't.

A book that sits on my shelf in my office is titled, "This is What a Preacher Looks Like." The aim of the book is to show people that pastors, particularly Baptist pastors in this case, do not look a certain way (they're trying to make the point that pastors do not have to be men) by having people who do not fit the particular mold (women) talk about what it means to them to be a pastor. From the skimming I have done, it seems to be a good read.

But more than anything, I think the title of the book is something for everyone to think about. The next time we think about a mechanic, we should think: "This is What a Mechanic Looks Like." The next time we think about a high school'er, we should think" "This is What a High School'er Looks Like." And on and on the list goes.

Or maybe we shouldn't, maybe we should try to not keep a stereotype in our head (and by the way, I'm pretty sure that's the aim of that book).

In the Bleak Midwinter

As I sit in my office this morning, I look out the window and see a pretty bleak picture.

Now it's beautiful, sure. Lots of trees, a guy walking a dog, a well-maintained street.
But the sky is gloomy. It's almost as if fog is trying to take over . . . but something will not quite let it.

That's Houston, in January. It's about as gloomy as it gets here. The high will be 80 today. Not exactly a chill in the air. But still, it's winter.

As I look out the window, I am reminded that we all have seasons of winter in our lives, seasons of a pretty bleak picture. Times when fog is trying to take over. What sustains us during those times? What gets us through?

The song, "In the Bleak Midwinter" comes over my mind as I sit here this morning. I honestly don't know much about the song. I know that we used to sing it in a former church, in a place where winter really would hit and there would be, from time to time, a biting chill in the air. And I know I always enjoyed singing it and listening to it.

The song is beautiful, peaceful, calming. If you have never heard it, I found this link of a choir singing it:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xRobryliBLQ

The song ends by saying that the only gift that we can give to the Christ-child is ourselves. As such, it's a beautiful Advent song. The song is also a wonderful reminder, regardless of the season of the year, that during times when we feel a bit bleak, a little down, a little out . . . when we feel that we do not have anything to offer the world that we are a part of, our gift can be ourselves:

What can I give him, poor as I am? 
If I were a shepherd, I would bring a lamb; 
If I were a Wise Man, I would do my part; 
Yet what I can I give him: give my heart.

And so it is, with us, everyday. We may not feel that we have much to offer to others, to the world. We may not have the riches of our neighbor. We may not have the gifts or talents of a friend. But we have ourselves. And we are, each of us, created wonderfully and uniquely to be . . . ourselves.

So today, be you. I promise that will be more than enough for the people around you . . . and for yourself.

The Reality of Losing

After watching the grey sweatshirt coach (Bill Belicheck . . . after all these years, is that the best thing he can roll out to wear) lose and then mope around like a three year-old, one thing is clear to me: we are teaching our young people that it is okay to throw a fit when they lose something.

Having been a youth minister for many years means that I have attended my fair share of youth sporting events. You name it, I have probably been there.

While at these sporting events, I have seen a lot of kids lose. And I have seen a lot of kids absolutely lose it after they lose. They throw fits and are just not able to deal with the reality of losing (And I have to say that, for the most part, those particular situations are normally kids playing against the kids I am there to support-kids from the youth ministries I have been a part of. So at least we've got that going for us.)

I have heard it said that sports is the greatest reality show there is, that it has been reality TV for decades before the concept ever evolved. And I think that's true, to an extent. But if it is reality for winning . . . it's also reality for losing. And somewhere along the way, we are doing a poor job teaching our young people that sports involves both winning . . . and losing.

You see it all over the place. It seems like tennis is the worst. You see tennis players throwing all kinds of fits: from John McEnroe years ago to some of the young up-and-comers today. I saw it a couple of months ago when Nick Saban just could not fathom that his team lost to A&M. Rather than graciously walk across the field and shake hands with the opposing teams' coach, he decided to lay into the referees for what seemed like an eternity. And I saw it again yesterday, when Belicheck stubbornly refused to give the media anything during the post-game media time. Now, to be fair, Belicheck always acts like that. But when he loses, it's ridiculous.

I think it's fine that we tell our kids that we should win and lose graciously. But we cannot expect too much from them if they don't see it on TV . . . or if they don't see it from us.

Standing Out in the Hall

I have started a new job, as of a few weeks ago. When I walk into the building and head up to my office, I walk through the middle of a preschool (funny how life comes full circle, huh?). Long story short is that there is a preschool housed on the first floor of the building I work.

This creates an interesting environment to walk through on the way to my office. It normally puts me in a pretty good mood as I head upstairs to get busy.

One day this week, I walked through the preschool to head over to our main office. I looked down the hall and saw a young child out in the hall with their teacher. Though I do not know the particular circumstances, it was clear that the youngster had done something they were not supposed to; and the teacher was letting them know about it.

Seeing that situation made me laugh. Then it made me cringe, thinking about the fear of getting in trouble by the teacher when I was that age.

That got me to thinking . . . when we see something like that, as adults, one fairly normal reaction is to think, "Whew, glad that's not me" . . . and then move on. And that's pretty normal, I think. We want to be happy with where we are in life. And looking upon a situation like that and thinking that we are glad we are not that age anymore is one way to cope.

But I think if we are all honest, we are still scared of that. We are still scared of getting in trouble and having the teacher get on to us.

I think some of us, consciously, think about it: we don't want to be reprimanded by bosses, people in authority, etc. I think others, probably somewhat unconsciously, think that we do not get in trouble anymore and that we can do whatever we want. But deep down, we know that's not true. We still act out of a system in which we are simply trying to not get in trouble.

Whether we want to admit it or not, there are rules and boundaries that we all have to deal with and live with. Part of our success (or whatever you want to call it) in life has to do with how deal with these rules and boundaries. Do we revert to our four year-old selves and do whatever we want . . . as long as the teacher doesn't see us. Or do we admit that yes, there are rules, and try to live within them.

I would imagine we are all probably somewhere in between.

Us Against Them

While getting ready for the day this morning, Tracy Byrd's "We're From the Country" came across my Pandora shuffle stream. Quite an interesting song to come across my shuffle. But that's Pandora for you.

If you're not familiar with the song, it's about being from the country . . . and why that's better than being from . . . well, not the country. The song tries to make the case that living in the country is better, because in the country everybody knows your name, is friendly, etc.

There's no doubt that there's something to the song. There is a point to be made. And that point, well, is sorta made.

But underneath the song, as well as underneath so much of what we do and say, is an idea that we are better than them, whomever the them might be: city folk, people from another nation, people of another religion, etc.

It's what I've heard called an us against them mentality. I would say it's something that we've struggled with all throughout human history. A good friend of mine, who is a very skilled historian, has said that after 10,000 years (of human history), we're still simply trying to learn to get along with each other.

Just think about it. One thing that is behind so many of our conflicts and fights today . . . is the idea that we are better than them. And if they do not believe it, well then, we'll just show 'em.

I do not mean to rail against Tracy Byrd. I really don't. I like a lot of his music. But it just hit me this morning while in the bathroom getting ready for the day (sorry for the awkward visual). Okay, if you're from the country, that's great. But why does your pride for being that way have to come at the expense of people who aren't?

Why can't we be happy with who we are . . . and let (and maybe even allow) others to be happy with who they are?

A Crushing Loss For the Second Straight Year

A couple of frustrations from today's Sam Houston State University National Championship football game (besides the obvious frustrations of being manhandled for the second straight year, by the same opponent, in the title game):

We sat in front of some pretty frustrating fans. "Frustrating" is probably actually putting it lightly, putting a positive spin on it. These were obviously college students who had been drinking for a while . . . before a game that started at noon.

They were obscene, loud, and just plain rude. Times like these always remind me of a game I attended at Georgia Tech a few years ago. A friend invited me to go; and I greatly enjoyed the day with him. One of the highlights was when he turned around to some drunk college students, annoying us all, and let them have it. He's one of the most gentle souls you'll ever meet. And it was awesome. I had a newfound appreciation for him as that happened.

I found myself in his role today. At one point, I actually began to turn around to get on to them, as there were a number of children all around us, hearing some pretty horrible things. But something stopped me. That's probably for the best.

But that whole episode (and our ensuing headaches for the rest of the day) caused me to think a bit more deeply about it. What's sad to me is not their sad state, the incredibly shrill voice the young lady behind me had that caused my head to pound, or anything else along those lines. What's most saddening to me is that the actions of four people not only affected the way they experienced the game. Their actions had a big impact upon the way many of us did.

When do I (and we all) do things similar to that? When do I cause others around me to have a poor experience of something because of my selfishness, because of my not taking others into account.

One of the genius things about the Christian story, to me, is that it causes us to look outside ourselves, to think not only how am I enjoying/experiencing something . . . but how am I/my actions affecting others' enjoyment/experience of something?

And, at the same time, how can I help others around me to experience and enjoy things more deeply?

It goes both ways.

One other observation: the whole thing where everyone holds up 4 fingers at the end of the 3rd quarter really grinds my gears. It has for a while. I've never really been able to wrap my head around why. But something hit me today.

Doing that (when teams along the sidelines, and their fans in the stands, hold up 4 fingers, signifying that the really important time, the 4th quarter, is about to begin) basically says that what happened the previous 3 quarters is not nearly as important as what is about to happen.

Now sure, the 4th quarter is important, it really is. Many times what happens then decides the game. But that's just crazy to place that much importance on it.

Take today, for example: we got our butts kicked in the 3rd quarter . . . really bad. That was the game. We can hold up four fingers all we want to. But in the stands, we all knew it was over at that point. The 3rd quarter, not the 4th quarter, doomed us today.

But bigger than any of that, the whole four fingers thing says to me that the destination, not the journey, is what is important. And I think that's a pretty narrow way to look at life. If what we are really concerned about is what happens at the very end of an event (or life), we're missing out on a whole lot of really good stuff.

Again, the Christian story is genius. It, at its core, implies, that life is a journey . . . not a destination. Life is to be enjoyed, experienced, really lived out all along the way . . . not just at the very end.

But then again, it's difficult to enjoy some parts of life when a twenty-one year old incredibly intoxicated young woman is screaming in your ear :)

I guess, though, that's part of the journey.

As Johnny Cash says, "I don't like it. But I guess things happen that way."