The Verb That Guides (page 1 of 2)

It’s nighttime and 3 degrees in Tashkent.

Hi there,

Reflection: an act of thought that revisits an object to examine it. The object here is travel (or tourist movement, it doesn’t really matter) and the desire to examine it from the particular angle of the verb that drives it came from reading a sentence by Xrctn in the introduction to his travel journal about Turkmenistan.

Part of that strange category of travelers who like ticking boxes...

Ticking I have no idea how strange that is—I actually get the impression it might be pretty common when I see the diverse mix of trips some people here take. But maybe it’s a different approach that drives these compulsive travelers.

Still, it wouldn’t even occur to me. What does it add?

Connecting Or chaining, assembling, linking. These are my verbs. If I can’t do it—either because finances are tight (I live in one of Europe’s pigsties—a PIIGS country, where the virtuous northern barbarians sent the G&S troika to "nurse us back to health" through austerity, making it all the more pleasant to spend every summer among civilized folks on the terrace of my little white house in Kalymnos overlooking the Aegean), or because I’ve chosen a tricky, unstable direction (Lebanon had to be canceled in summer 2006, Syria too, and Iran right now)—I don’t really feel like traveling. I might just tag along to be nice, but it doesn’t mean anything to me.

If I think about the need behind my verbs—this continuous, meticulous, patient way of traveling—it’s about stripping away sudden, artificial exoticism, weaving small, successive changes, and feeling the presence of the knots too. About understanding, integrating something a little different from the image on a screen.

And you? What’s your guiding verb?

Catherine

To escape.

Last summer, I meandered between Milan and Bordeaux. I was traveling with Italian friends, and I couldn’t imagine making them drive 1,000 kilometers on the highway—so we took an exit at Tarare and picked it back up just before Tulle. They *loved* the Auvergne. Their perfect getaway. 😉

Anywhere else is good enough, really. Works every time?

Catherine

Does it work every time?

Yeah, since the daily grind’s out the window! 😛

After that, the escape can be more or less successful...

This seems pretty common as a motivator... Just do a search with "travel escape" to see how many travel agencies and magazines have names or titles that play on the theme (with "voyage cochage," you picture meat sacks, and "voyage jonction" takes you to a confluence near Chamonix...). Using the same combo ("voyage s'évader"), I landed on Psychologie.com, which sketches out a quick rundown of possible motivations. Translated into verbs, that gives us—besides escaping—cultivating yourself, trying new things, and sharing (these seem to be the results of a test, if I understood correctly).

Hi Catherine, If the verb that guided us for so long was "to venture" and "to explore," now and today, it’s "to savor," "to soak in," and "to linger." At home and elsewhere. Savor the moment, soak in the atmosphere, linger, wander—nothing thrilling, I’ll admit, but so peaceful.

Savor

Discover, relax, and clear my head.

Good morning Dom,

If the verb that once guided us was to venture and to explore, now and today, it’s to savor, to soak in, and to linger. At home and elsewhere. Savor the moment, soak in the atmosphere, linger, wander—nothing thrilling, it’s true, but so peaceful.

I remember that story of thousands of kilometers on a motorcycle. To leave, and to leave only at random, knowing nothing, maybe not even imagining anything, choosing—or not—day by day. Is *that* adventure? Soaking in an atmosphere like a dry Neapolitan rum baba absorbing sweet rum... Wandering, staying, returning, absorbing the tiniest details.

Am I getting closer to the idea?

Catherine

Hi Michel,

Olfactory trips? Destination chosen based on frangipani blooming season?

Catherine

Good evening Marie Anne,

Discover, rest, and clear my mind.

I see three verbs... And I’m not quite sure what order to put them in to find the essential one. So I’ll try this: discovery distracts, and distraction rests.

Okay, I’m overthinking it...

Cat

Olfactory journeys?

Not necessarily.

Good evening Catherine. Actually, I can't separate them. But I'll say discover, and in my body and mind, the rest follows.

These aren’t verbs, so I’m probably off-topic, but for me, number one is freedom (because I make sure I have almost no obligations when I travel, and it’s the only time that’s possible), and number two is a change of scenery. I find it a real shame, but the only way I get "stars in my eyes" is by visiting other planets than my own. 😄

Not necessarily.

If I can split hairs and then tie them back together to weave—or rather, embroider—a suzani with 10, 20, or 100 hands, titled "travels," I’m not exactly skilled at "drawing someone out." I don’t know how to interpret this laconic tone around a somewhat marginal verb. Fair enough! I’ll leave "savoring" hanging, a few threads laid over a framework of movements. Maybe you or someone else will come here to sketch out a pattern.

Hi Christelle,

This is just a little casual chat, no big deal—off-topic is totally welcome (we’re not in a photo contest ).

Plus, we can often turn nouns into verbs. To free oneself (which I see as pretty close to Attila’s "escaping"), to free oneself *for*, ultimately, to marvel (that’s what sparkles are all about, right?).

Catherine

Actually, I can't separate them. But I'll say discover, and in my body and mind, the rest follows.

Un-cover. Apocalypse in Greek (that’s deep! 😏)

Contemplate

Contemplate

It’s spring, the *primus tempus* of the Romans, which the Greeks call *anoiksi*—the opening, what returns, almost the same. Amorgos. The Aegean, splendid, sparkles. Puffs of pollen sometimes blur it. The stone is warm. Astypalea on the horizon? Uncertainty of what exists. Still, to blind and to open one’s eyes.

(It’s been a long time since Greece was about traveling—if it ever was. Just being, that’s all.)

In "contemplate," I hear temple. Thus, sacred.

Long before checking off, my favorite verb is ‘to stay’… and I know you know what I’m talking about! 😊