Travel – The Experience of Learning

image shows a black man in natice dress, appears to be African, and a very small blond girl child on a bridge overlooking a hillside forest
Wouldn’t you like to know what she is thinking?

Try to travel, otherwise
you may become racist,
and you may end up believing
that your skin is the only one
to be right,
that your language
is the most romantic
and that you were the first
to be the first.
Travel,
because if you don’t travel then
your thoughts won’t be strengthened,
won’t get filled with ideas.
Your dreams will be born with fragile legs and then you end up believing in tv-shows, and in those who invent enemies
that fit perfectly with your nightmares
to make you live in terror.
Travel,
because travel teaches
to say good morning to everyone
regardless of which sun we come from.
Travel,
because travel teaches
to say goodnight to everyone
regardless of the darkness
that we carry inside
Travel,
because traveling teaches to resist,
not to depend,
to accept others, not just for who they are
but also for what they can never be.
To know what we are capable of,
to feel part of a family
beyond borders,
beyond traditions and culture.
Traveling teaches us to be beyond.
Travel,
otherwise you end up believing
that you are made only for a panorama
and instead inside you
there are wonderful landscapes
still to visit.

Gio Evan, poet and songwriter.
Translated from Italian.

This post is shared from a Facebook post I saw recently. A comment on that post said, “And if you are unable to travel, Read.

I remember the first time I traveled outside of the U.S. It was for a vacation to a resort in the Dominican Republic. We took a horseback riding excursion thinking we were going to be galloping down the beach, sea breezes blowing in our hair and waves brushing the horses hoofs. Wrong!

We went up in the mountains. It was a wonderful time with spectacular views, but…

To get to the farm we were driven up a dirt road and passed tiny houses with no windows or doors. We say women sweeping their dirt floors. Men sat on crates beside the road playing cards. Barefoot children played in the scrub grass.

In town we saw a few stately houses surrounded by fences and guarded by men with assault rifles.

It was an eye-opening experience for me; and I thought of people back home who complained about their lives. Perhaps the people we saw in the D.R. were happier than the people back home.

I don’t get to travel very much or very far, so I read. Any suggestions of interesting and/or exotic places?