It was Paul Theroux's birthday yesterday.
A link there led me to a Boston Magazine article where Matt Paul Catalano's accompanying photo led me to google 'does Paul Theroux have a tattoo on his hand'.
Paul Theroux DOES have a tattoo on his hand! The 2011 Irish Times article Have Notebook Will Travel tells us what it is (you can't find it via an image search because you all you get is a whole load of Justin's) and also that the author of the article couldn't stop staring at it, a detail I find wonderful.
After growing out of Enid Blyton I moved on to Dick Francis and then Desmond Bagley. After I grew out of those, James Herriot and a serial killer biography phase heralded the start of a love affair with non-fiction that continues to this day.
Some time in my early 20s - probably when I was working at a public library, I can't think how I would've come across it otherwise - I picked up a copy of The Great Railway Bazaar, and my world was blown apart. I'd discovered travel writing. I'd discovered travel - my understanding of holidays up to that point had been British campsites with my mum and dad.
Desmond Bagley had vaguely made me want to visit Iceland, but now I had to take a train across the Russian Steppes. HAD to.
It took a while, but in July 1997 when we were just into our 30s, me and my fella stood on a station platform in Moscow and boarded the Trans-Siberian Express.
Cabin no.5 was our home for a week. This was not as glamorous as it sounds. The scenery of the Russian Steppes starts to look a bit samey after the first few days.
Nevertheless, that journey began a pretty standard, but epic-for-us, backpacking adventure through Asia, the Pacific, and back home through the States. And that led to emigration to New Zealand, a new life, a new me.
And all of that came from Paul Theroux putting ideas into my head.
In the Boston Magazine article, he summarises why I hate the internet so much:
“In every case it interferes with my travels,” he sighs. “I think it’s great when you’re out of touch. It’s great when someone simply disappears and makes his or her own way in the world. If you’re in touch all the time, you’ve never really left home. I lived in Africa for six years and never once made a phonecall.
“Having the ability to communicate gives you a false sense of security. It reduces your sense of being alone to the point where you may not go out and make friends. You may not go out and learn the language. It becomes your lifeline. It’s like being in a swimming pool and keeping your toe on the bottom all the time instead of taking your toe off the bottom and floating.”
In the 12 years I lived offline in New Zealand, I thrived. In the 12 years I've been back in the UK I've had on-tap internet and all I've done is stare at a screen and get fat and depressed.
From the Irish Times article:
Paul Theroux’s Essential Tao of Travel
1. Leave home
2. Go alone
3. Travel light
4. Bring a map
5. Go by land
6. Walk across a national frontier
7. Keep a journal
8. Read a novel that has no relation to the place you’re in
9. If you must bring a cell phone, avoid using it.
10. Make a friend
Yes to all of those, except the only friends I make these days are cats - everyone else is too busy staring at their phone.
I'm glad Paul Theroux popped up on my Twitter feed this weekend; I need reminding of this stuff.
Today's Photo: A Dream of Distant Shores
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