Ayn Rand fanatic travels to send GPS message

by Tom Johansmeyer on

In today’s politically polarized climate, die-hards will do anything to get a leg up in the battle for communication. Larger crowds are sought, along with bigger signs, louder voices and greater media play. The days of slapping bumper stickers on random cars are giving way to more sophisticated stunts, and Nick Newcomen just set the bar higher with an unusual road trip.

Newcomen put 12,328 miles on his car while crossing through 30 states to write “Read Ayn Rand” on Google Earth with his GPS device. Mashable writes:

Newcomen – who explained to Wired that he undertook this mission simply because he is a Rand fan – took more than 30 days to execute this task, using a GPS logger (Qstarz BT-Q1000X) to create the letters. He started in Marshall, Texas, where he began writing out “Rand,” and then drove on (turning off the GPS whilst not writing) until the entire, “Reading Is Fundamental” sentiment was complete.

Ayn Rand’s (rather anemic) philosophy puts forth the primacy of the individual over the group and believes that merit should be the sole arbiter of success. She was also a big fan of keeping the government out of just about everything, which is why many are using her words and works as a rallying cry against the current administration in Washington.

Of course, I’ve always wondered how Rand herself would have felt about the cult of personality that has evolved around her work. She had no shortage of lackeys while she was alive – including Nathaniel Branden and Alan Greenspan – and she seemed to be pretty happy to be lauded. On the other hand, a fairly strict interpretation of her philosophy would result in the criticism of efforts such as Newcomers, as it would encourage people to go accomplish stuff on their own and give up the fanboy fawning.

One final criticism: if he were a real fan, he would have ended his trip to Colorado with a bracelet made from Rearden Metal on his wrist.

[photo via World’s Biggest Writing]

Lalibela: Ethiopia’s ancient jewel

by Sean McLachlan on

For an agnostic I’ve certainly been to a lot of holy places.

I’ve always been skeptical of received wisdom, and fascinated that so many people dedicate their lives to a deity they can’t see, can’t prove exists, and who has left them in the lurch on more than one occasion. I’m also fascinated that this strange behavior called religion often makes people better people, and just as often is used to justify appalling crimes. Nor am I impressed by atheists who claim to “know” there is nothing higher, since that’s unprovable too.

So when I travel I always end up at the holy places–camping among the 70 million pilgrims at Kumbh Mela, or sitting with sadhus at the burning ghats in Benares, or discussing Islam in the shady courtyard of a mosque in Isfahan, or climbing up a dubious-looking rope to reach the clifftop monastery of Debre Damo.

One of my friends, a devout Catholic who likes to debate theology as we go on pub crawls, is convinced my interest in religion means I’m going to convert. I could tell him that devoting his academic life to studying the works of Samuel Beckett means he’s going to become a nihilist, but that hardly seems sporting.

I wish he’d been along for my visit to Lalibela, because not only is the town a monument to Ethiopia’s faith in God, but it also brews the country’s best tej. We would have had a hell of a metaphysical boozer.

Lalibela is off the main highway and reached after many miles bouncing along ass-punishing dirt roads. It is here, starting in the 12th century, that a series of churches were dug out the bedrock. This construction-in-reverse was the brainchild of Gebre Mesqel Lalibela, a king of the Zagwe dynasty. The eleven churches he dug here were meant to be a New Jerusalem, in response to the Muslims capturing Jerusalem and making it difficult for Christian pilgrims to visit. The river flowing through Lalibela is called the River Jordan and a pilgrim can visit the Ethiopian version of Bethleham, Golgotha, and the Holy Sepulchre.

The most grand is Biet Medhane Alem, the largest rock-hewn church in the world. It’s a massive block of stone with 72 towering pillars symbolizing the 72 disciples of Christ. A stone passage leads to Biet Mariam, possibly the first to be built and easily my favorite. As our eyes adjust to the dim interior we see 800 year-old frescoes decorating the walls and ceiling. They show scenes from the Bible and their rich colors blend with the shadows to create a soothing, otherworldly effect.

%Gallery-90277%The most famous of the churches, the one seen in all the tourist brochures, is Biet Giyorgis. It blends with the surrounding stone even while standing out and dazzling the eye. It’s retained the same color as the surrounding rock–none of the churches are painted on the outside–and the builders cleverly left the roof pitching at the same angle as the rest of the slope, making the church seem like a natural part of the ground. At twelve meters high, it is the highest (or I should say deepest) of Lalibela’s churches.

At each of the churches a priest will come out on cue, bearing an elaborate medieval silver cross and wearing his colorful raiment. While this makes for great photos, I feel it cheapens the place somewhat, a bit like the monks trotting out illuminated manuscripts at the monasteries on Lake Tana. Still, it’s their choice how they respond to tourism, and tourist money helps maintain the churches and monastic libraries.

Lalibela is one of the most touristy places in Ethiopia. Touts and self-appointed guides abound. While this is nowhere near as annoying as the situation at the Pyramids or the Taj Mahal, it can still be hard to find a decent guide. If you already have a driver, like we hired from Abey Roads, he can find you a reliable local guide. We went with Taye Abebe, who was knowledgeable, spoke good English, and took me to extra places for no additional charge simply because he knew I was interested. He can be contacted at taye_lalibela@ yahoo.co.uk.

On the second day of our visit, Taye takes me to a predawn mass. I leave my wife asleep in the hotel, skip breakfast, and go with him through the darkened town to Beit Gabriel. It’s Gabriel’s holy day today. Because of the steep incline of the original slope one wall of the church seems to soar to the sky. The Ethiopians call it the “Stairway to Heaven”. We cross a narrow stone bridge, with a sheer drop several meters down on either side, and enter the packed interior.

Inside, the rough stone walls are aglow with the light of candles, and resonate with the sound of chanting. Everyone is wearing white, from the aged priests leading the service to the village women leaning wearily against the pillars, exhausted from having spent the night in prayer. We stand next to a religious class of sleepy-eyed kids who take turns reading aloud from a holy book written in Ge’ez. None of them take the slightest notice of me, the only foreigner in the room. Instead they concentrate on puzzling through the ancient liturgical language.

The head priest comes out of the holy of holies bearing an elegant silver cross. One by one the faithful go up to him and kiss it, and he rubs it along their bodies to give them a blessing. We stay and watch as the sun rises and beams its first golden light into the interior. At last we go, but the priests and townsfolk and pilgrims stay. They’ve been praying all night, and they’ll pray all day too.

For the rest of the day I wander around more of Lalibela’s churches, amazed that people can be so sure of something they can’t prove that they’d dig out more than a dozen buildings from solid rock. I’ve met atheists who sneer at such feats, saying it’s a means of social control, a waste of money and effort to worship something that doesn’t exist. But that’s missing the point. People need these festivals and rituals and grand monuments. It takes them out of their day-to-day life and shows them something higher. Even a religion hater like atheist author Sam Harris says spirituality is an important part of life. And that’s what these places provide, even for a cynic like me. Because every now and then, you need to feel that rarest of emotions–awe.

And you don’t have to believe in God to figure that out.

Next time: Addis Ababa: Ethiopia’s New Flower.

Check out the rest of my travel articles about Ethiopia.

South by Southeast: Coming home

by Jeremy Kressmann on

Long-term travel forces us to face our fears. Whether it’s eating something unfamiliar or visiting a place that scares us, we’re forced to rely on our wits and abilities in ways we never thought possible. But of all the daring activities that occur during a long trip, none is more frightening than the simple act of returning home.

After spending five months on the road in Southeast Asia, it’s a dilemma I’ve faced as the days and hours counted down to my return. Much like the forces of gravity, the best-laid plans and biggest travel budgets are eventually laid bare, pulled back to earth by the relentless tug of reality. How will your friends and family react to your adventures? Will they care? Is there a job waiting for you, or will you need to look for work? The answers to these questions don’t come easy.

But the end of a life-changing trip doesn’t mean your journey is over. There are ways to translate the lessons of travel into a new way of life. How do we use an amazing adventure to change our lives at home for the better? Keep reading below…Save time to reflect
The minute you step off the airplane at home, the assault begins. Friends and family will unexpectedly show up, wanting to hear about your crazy travels. There will be a huge stack of bills to open. You’ll probably need a new place to live that isn’t a $5/night hostel. In other words, the realities of home will demand your attention.

Before the ritual of daily life sets in, it’s important you set aside time for reflection on your trip. What made you the happiest? Did you have an experience that’s made you think differently about the world? Without this reflection, it’s difficult to translate the experience of travel into new behavior.

Go easy on the stories
Dude, did I tell you about the time I was rock-climbing with endangered spider monkeys in the jungles of Laos? Everyone is going to want to hear about your trip when you return, but there’s a difference between sharing your stories and bragging. No matter how many amazing adventures you had, resist the urge to share everything and anything. Your friends and family are genuinely interested in what you did, but their eyes will glaze over after too many tales. Keep a few of your favorite experiences just for yourself.

See the world with “travel eyes”
Remember that first moment you stepped outside in a new place? It was like being a newborn, thrilled by an alien world of strange stimuli waiting to be explored. Why doesn’t that happen when we come back? By instinct, our brains tune out the familiar – resist the urge to “tune out” when you come back. Try to look at home the way you looked at your trip – as a world of new experiences, people and places that are dying to uncovered.

Don’t fall into old habits
Taking a long-term trip is like going through a time machine. You’ll come home a different person than when you left, but the people and places left behind are still the same. Before you get too cozy, don’t forget what you learned. Maybe you want to change your career. Maybe you’ve discovered a new activity or skill you want to develop. If you don’t make it a priority, then nobody else will – take the initiative to incorporate your travel experience into life at home.

Don’t expect travel to change you
Books like On the Road and movies like The Beach condition us to believe travel is a “transformative” act. Except it’s not always true. Sometimes an amazing trip is simply that and nothing more. Despite everything I mentioned above, you might come home and realize you like your life the way it is. Be satisfied with the accomplishments of what you’ve done and leave it at that.

After more than five months and nine passport stamps in Southeast Asia, I’ve had the privilege to experience a region in flux. But it’s time to return home. Southeast Asia isn’t always a non-stop exotic adventure. But neither is it a place that’s been sanitized and homogenized, lost to the “tourist hordes.” The truth instead, is somewhere in between. Much like our greatest travel fantasies, it’s region that becomes whatever we want it to be. Remember, wherever life or your travels take you, make sure you chart a course “South by Southeast.”

Gadling writer Jeremy Kressmann just got home after five months in Southeast Asia. He’s excited to be back, eating cheese again and looking forward to catching up with family and friends. You can read all the posts from his adventures “South by Southeast” HERE.

South by Southeast: The Tao of long-term travel

by Jeremy Kressmann on

Welcome back to Gadling’s newest series on Southeast Asia, South by Southeast. Long-term travel is a topic with considerable baggage, both in the travel community and the world at large. For those tied to life’s obligations – jobs, children, mortgages – checking out to spend a few months (or years) on the road is irresponsible. For those righteously living out of a backpack on the other side of the world – nodding their heads smugly at their “enlightened lifestyle” – the people back home are afraid to take chances.

But both sides of this debate get it wrong. No matter your perspective on the issue, the decision to take a long-term trip must be grounded in personal circumstances and aligned with reality. To do it any other way is to fall victim to the same old travel cliches.

So what is long term travel really about? And how is it different than a vacation? The answer to this question is complicated – there are as many justifications for long-term trips as their are places to visit. But in order to give some perspective to the topic, let’s take a look at some of my own reasons for taking a long-term trip. Whether you empathize with me or think I’m an idiot, it will help explain why long-term travel isn’t just “another vacation.” Click below to see why…Long-term travel is not about “Escape”
Perhaps the biggest myth of long-term travel is you can escape responsibility and worry. Critics of long-term travel mention this as justification for why long-term travelers are irresponsible. To them, these individuals are all doing drugs on the beaches of Thailand and postponing the realities of life. Part of this argument rings true. If you hate your job and think going to Southeast Asia will fix your troubles, it’s worth taking a closer look at what’s leading to your dissatisfaction. The same issues that plague you at home will be waiting when you return.

But done properly, long-term travel has nothing to do with escape. Sure, there are backpackers out there “doing dope” and living off a trust fund. But to generalize all long-term travelers this way is an oversimplification. Instead, long-term travel is a life-affirming opportunity to open our minds to new ideas, new challenges and new ways of thinking.

Long-term travel is about slowing down
When I was working 9-5 every day, I treated my vacation days as precious gems. I spent hour after hour meticulously researching and planning my trips, scheming about where I would go and what I might do in order to maximize my time. If even an hour of the trip wasn’t enjoyable, it felt like the time had been squandered, lost to the ages. Instead of being able to live in the moment and enjoy my experience, I was too busy worrying if I was having fun.

Vacations are great, but we are all guilty of packing too much into them. Long-term travel allows us the luxury of time. We don’t have to rush from place to place, frantically taking in sights and acquiring painful new blisters on our toes. We can take our noses out of our guidebooks for a few seconds to look around. And if we find a place we love, we have the privilege of staying a few extra days.

Long-term travel is a challenge
It’s great when you plan every last detail of a trip. You know where you’re going and what you’ll be doing. But aren’t our lives already orchestrated enough? The best opportunities for learning and personal growth is not when we succeed, but rather when we fail.

The spontaneous, think-on-your-feet character of long-term travel forces us to make tough choices. In the process you’re likely to learn a lot about yourself and your priorities. And if you can adapt to tough circumstances on the road, it’s likely you’ll be able to do the same when you return home.

Long-term travel helps us meet the locals
Thanks to the Internet, we now know more about the world than ever before. But there’s a problem with this. Humans tend to seek out other humans and information that match our own values and interests. When we travel, we tend to follow a similar pattern, staying in the tourist quarter and isolating ourselves in hotels. There’s nothing wrong with this behavior, mind you, it just makes it more difficult to meet anyone but other travelers.

But arguably one of the best parts of travel is meeting the locals. It helps break down the “wall” tourism frequently creates and helps us truly get a sense of a place. But when our visits are short, meeting locals is made more difficult. The the knowledge of your imminent departure impacts your relationship. Long-term travel, again, is about the luxury of time. It’s over these longer periods that genuine friendships are formed.

Gadling writer Jeremy Kressmann is spending the next few months in Southeast Asia. You can read other posts on his adventures “South by Southeast” HERE.

Travel quotations and underground philosophy

by Sean McLachlan on

Travelers on the London Underground will soon get a dose of philosophy along with their overcrowding, noise, and proximity to body odor. The Evening Standard has reported that drivers on the Piccadilly line have been issued a book of quotations from famous philosophers to read along with their routine announcements. It’s supposed to make the journey go easier. Some of the quotes include, “Nothing is worth more than this day” (Johann Wolfgang von Goethe) and “Man is in a strict sense entirely animal” (Blaise Pascal).

Good choices, but they could have picked ones that were more travel-oriented. Here’s a sampling.

“The world is a book, and those who do not travel read only a page.” (St. Augustine)

“A good traveler has no fixed plans, and is not intent on arriving.” (Lao Tzu)

“Travel and change of place impart new vigor to the mind.” (Seneca)

“Wandering re-establishes the original harmony which once existed between man and the universe.” (Anatole France)

You can read more travel quotes at Quotegarden.