MAGAN'S WORLD:Manchán Magan's tales of a travel addict
THIS COLUMN was meant to be a celebration of travel blogging but something went awry. Having read endless accounts of fleapit hotels, hari-kari taxi drivers and drunken nights out in gentrified medieval quarters, I lost the will to go on. Why are so many blogs vacuous, solipsistic and self-absorbed? The equivalent of the postcard adage, “Wish you were here”, expanded to fit the infinite realm of cyberspace.
As a concept, travel blogging is fantastic, of course, allowing one instantly share the observations and epiphanies that come while abroad. The most significant events of my life happened while travelling, and in turn sparked some of my greatest insights – it is no exaggeration to say that at times my understanding of the nature of reality has been blown to smithereens in distant parts of the planet, and had blogging existed at the time, I may easily have rushed to use it. There’s something rather moving about being able to proclaim the intensity of one’s rights of passage in public.
That said, I was never the most voluble of travellers. After a day exploring the pre-Hispanic statues at San Agustín, Columbia, or climbing the Meenakshi Temple in Madurai, or discovering a lost Silk Road library in the Gobi desert, I’d be back at the fleapit silently reflecting on it all, contemplating its wonder, while across the verandah loudmouths in singlets and sandals would be spewing out inanities and hoary guidebook tropes while slugging back scratchy brown bottles of beer. Perhaps these are the folk who now blog.
There are, of course, some excellent travel bloggers out there, writing with compassion, humour and verve; the trouble is finding these bright cowslips amongst the nettles. One of the most consistently imaginative is Rolf Potts, “El gurú de los mochileros” (the guru of backpacking). He’s a nuanced, witty and occasionally profound author and blogger based in . . . well, the closest he gets to defining his perpetually peripatetic location is feeling “somewhat at home in Bangkok, Cairo, Pusan, New Orleans, and north-central Kansas”. His books and blogs recount the usual stories of travel misadventure, but with a refreshing degree of erudition and reflection. His recent “No Baggage” blog which involved a six-week escapade across five continents through 12 countries without so much as a purse for luggage, was presented as much as an existential examination of our need for possessions as a way of presenting practical tips to avoid baggage fees.
He managed, while dealing with the reality of a six-week odyssey with only a toothbrush, money, mp3 player, passport, contact-lens solution and change of clothes, to find time to reflect on the 19th century naturalist John Muir, who claimed the best way to prepare for a trip is to “throw some tea and bread into an old sack and jump over the back fence”.
This year, the Immrama Travel Writing Festival in Lismore is holding a blogging forum featuring Rolf Potts and a number of others (including myself). At this turning point in the history of travel literature, it’ll be interesting to hear what Potts, the Mungo Parks of the internet age, has to say. I am hoping he will advise on how to write about the dynamic of travel in a changing world and what our rambling (geographical and literary) can teach us about the human condition.
Although I may be unqualified to talk about blogging, I’d like to explore how to construct strong literary narratives from the linear run of unremarkable events that make up any journey, and how to use style to attract and hold loyal readers beyond family and friends.
Ultimately, shouldn’t great travel blogging aim to present an expanded view of the world, to transform the reader along with the writer? Or is it just a forum for the vacuous, solipsistic and self-absorbed to share scam stories and reinforce prejudices?
Bloggers Forum, June 11th, Lismore House Hotel, lismoreimmrama.com