“The world is a book and those who do not travel read only one page.” — Augustine of Hippo
If you don't know what you're missing does it matter? Travel is a funny thing. I know people who have no desire to see the world or experience anything outside their comfort zone and yet seem completely content and fulfilled. I'm not one of those people. I want to wander about and gaze upon the things I have read about and seen in history books for as long as I can remember. For me travel is completely experiential. It’s about an appreciation and historical perspective of who we are and our own relative insignificance that is otherwise impossible to grasp without a greater, physical context or tactical experience. It is also about seeing first-hand the great works of people who have long since passed, whose creativity, ingenuity and craftsmanship have withstood the test of time and the elements, and who continue to inspire so many so far into the future.
While clicking through slides of paintings and architecture, an art history professor of mine once said that it’s hard to truly appreciate something until you see it for yourself. That simple line has lived in my head for 35 years. St. Peter’s in Rome is a perfect example. You can study it, admire it, even think you know it—but you don’t feel its grandeur until you step into its cavernous nave and find yourself dwarfed by its vastness. Climb the long, narrow staircase into the dome and peer down from those dizzying heights, and the place becomes a kind of holy physics. And then there’s Michelangelo’s David in Florence: not a photograph or a reproduction, but the real thing—so perfect, so massive, it freezes you in your tracks. I confess to getting emotional when I set foot in Hagia Sophia in Istanbul, Turkey. I couldn’t believe I was really there. In my way of thinking, if your idea of a gondola ride is the Venetian in Las Vegas, you're figuratively and literally missing the boat.
How many masters have come and gone setting the standards of excellence to which we still measure ourselves and our potential?! To behold their accomplishments can be an intimate, awe-inspiring and life-changing experience. Venice is one of those places that anything short of being there means never understanding why it has drawn so many people to its canals for hundreds of years, or appreciating its unique setting and contribution to history and western culture.
For my wife, nephew and I, Venice was one of several stops on his Senior Trip in the Spring of 2017 before the crowds and heat of summer descend on Europe. For all the places we’ve been and all the beauty we’ve seen over the years, I still found myself caught in awe beneath the shimmering gold mosaics of St. Mark’s Basilica. The Doge’s Palace was stunning—almost impossibly ornate—yet haunted by what it once contained. We sat where others once sat as verdicts were meted out, their futures split cleanly in two: freedom, or the prison next door. There, in small windowless cells, the world disappeared, and hopelessness began.
Would it have mattered if we had never stopped here? For me, yes. The world and its people and cultures—past and present—are truly remarkable, and the difficulty in getting to some place new or visiting another time and again like old friends, never gets old. While my life isn't defined by travel, my hopes and aspirations continue to be shaped and inspired by the many pages this world has to offer if I just make the sacrifice.
