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In the first of a series of articles exploring why we travel, David Jobanputra looks at the rituals that are associated with modern long-term travel and asks whether they are in some way a parallel to the religious and spiritual rituals that people have followed for countless generations. A thought-provoking article that should conjure familiar images to anyone who has experienced the backpacker trail. If you enjoyed this article, you can subscribe to the rest of the series via our RSS feed.
Why We Travel?
What is travel? A strange question perhaps, given the purview of this website. But let us think well for a moment. Why do we do it? What does it do for us, and to us, and to the world around us? What is the worth of travel, and what is its cost? In this short series of articles, I want to think through some of these questions. My aim is to find not answers but analogies, alternative ways of thinking about travel and travellers that might challenge some old preconceptions. In the coming weeks, I’ll be looking at travel as an epic quest or adventure, as an act of cultural ‘cannibalism’ and as a new form of imperialism. To kick off, though, I invite you to think about travel as a kind of religious ritual.
Picture the scene: There’s a lake or a river or something like that, maybe even a sea. And it’s sunrise, or sunset, it doesn’t matter which, and the sun slides low across the sky like an egg yolk. All along the shoreline, lined-up up like little lanterns, are the beach huts or bungalows or whatever - the backpacker barracks. And out front, on the balconies and rooftops, sprawled across cushions or strung-out in hammocks, are the travellers themselves.
Tarquin is deep in a dog-eared Dumas he traded two towns back. With his free hand (and much deliberation) he strokes a ponderous beard. His is a fossilised figure: skin coarse and cracked as old leather, hair the texture of twine. On his feet, chappals worn to a crisp; his vest is peppered with holes. He looks up. Across the deck, four round and ruddy-faced girls sit perched on poofs like hens on the nest. They gossip, giggle. One scans idly through photos as another sows beads in her hair. One is consulting the guidebook. One is writing a postcard. Gap years, thinks Tarquin, with a cock of his pierced ‘brow, slaves to the Lonely Planet. “They change their climate, not their soul, who rush across the sea.” Hmmm. Maybe he’ll feed them that one later, if he deigns to converse.
Travel as a Ritual
So consider: a ritual, loosely defined, is a kind of social operating procedure. It’s a time-tested template, a pre-cut pattern of acts and utterances, which, properly connected, can communicate changes in the status of participants. A wedding ceremony is an obvious example. There are vows and rings and drunken speeches, and these have to be used in just the right place, at just the right time, to make the marriage effective. So too with funerals, christenings, Bar Mitzvahs, you name it. A ritual doesn’t have to be religious of course. Graduations, hazings, even stag- and hen-nights – all involve a certain modus operandi (think silly clothes and public performance), adherence to which serves to signpost safe passage from one life-stage to the next.
Now in secular society, we’re somewhat starved of decent life-changing rituals. You’d be hard-pressed to argue that a stag-night is as mind-blowingly transformative as the Hindu vel kavadi or an Amerindian vision quest (despite, perhaps, the noble efforts of the best man). But regardless, we all still participate in rituals. In fact, they appear to be pretty much indispensable to human culture. By following the established procedure at certain key stages of our lives, we’re in effect ‘reinvesting’ in society, subscribing to its overarching ethos. Thus, every time we do a ritual, we at once remake society.
The Backpacker's Uniform
So how does all this apply to travel, you might well ask. Let’s think again about the gaggle of gap years sketched out above. Every year, approximately 100,000 school-leavers head overseas prior to embarking on work or further education. Many more young people take similar breaks during or after their studies, or in-between jobs. Among this growing demographic, which is worth an estimated £2.2 billion in the UK alone, there are two major gap year options: project-based trips with organisations such as Global Vision International (GVI) and Voluntary Service Overseas (VSO); or budget backpacking through Asia, Australasia and the Americas. Of those who opt for the latter, some 25,000 visit Thailand, Australia and New Zealand in the same outing, making this the pre-eminent gap year circuit. Already, then, we have the first elements of ritual: time and place. But what else? Well, for a start you need the costume. (Rituals, you will recall, work best in garish garb.) Ponchos, sarongs, fisherman’s pants: practical, yes, but also symbolic. Like braids, dreadlocks, tattoos and piercings, this decorative dress denotes a departure from everyday life and heightens the sense of occasion. There are other adornments too: the journal; the guidebook; the low-slung knapsack. And then there is ritual talk: “where are you going?”; “where have you been?”; “did you ‘do’ this monument/trek/natural wonder?”; etc. Drink, drugs and digital photos, sun, sea and social networks – these too are ubiquitous features.
Travel, then, becomes ritual; there is an order of action, a template to be followed. Upon their return from the wilderness, our young vagrants are transformed (or reformed) into worldly-wise Westerners, new sovereign citizens of a global era. (Theirs is the Earth and everything that’s in it!) Through their reintegration, initiates renew a vow to society. In return, society bestows on them the mantle of maturity, endorsing their experience as life-changing and morally valid.
But what of Tarquin, and his scorn, and his esoteric fiction? What of all those who recognise the ritual and take pains to avoid it? Is travel, for Tarquins, still quasi-religious? Here, the idiom of ritual is surely redundant. Consider, instead, a pilgrim, or a wandering ascetic. Both are in search of spiritual fulfilment, the latter through acts of denial, the former through transit itself. For souls such as Tarquin, travel affords a path to enlightenment, whether through disavowal (detachment from one’s home-world), austerity (renunciation of material comforts) or more formal spiritual practice (yoga, meditation and so on). In such cases, travel seems less an assent to cultural values than a means to reflect upon and challenge them.
So there we have it. What appears a humble waterfront guesthouse is in fact a stage upon which various reverent rites are enacted, be it a kind of coming of age ritual akin to an aboriginal walkabout or the righteous restraint of the shoestring ascetic. Viewing travel in this light is in no way meant to devalue it - quite the opposite in fact. While at one level these foreign forays are decidedly frivolous, at another they can be seen to fulfil basic social functions. Indeed, for many in the West today, overseas travel has come to fill the void vacated by ‘real’ religions, providing meaning, purpose, awe and wonder, as well as a sense of community. As we shall see in the following article, it may also serve to satisfy an ancient appetite for adventure and an innate itching of figurative feet.
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About David Jobanputra
Interesting analysis. But what about the religious experiences we have during travel that seem to go beyond ritual ? For example, the asceticism of doing without the trappings of wealth that the average European takes for granted and sharing your body with fleas. Or the recognition of mortality that you can have through confronting your limitations and the barriers between self and Other. Many aspects of life are drawn into sharp relief by experiencing Exotic destinations. So what kind of religious experience are the likes of Tarquin after?
Tarquin's Pye-dog 10th November 2010
An interesting reflective article. I look forward to seeing how the series develops.
LH.com 16th November 2010
I like this
Manuel 16th November 2010
Hi Tarquin's Pye-dog (nice name btw). I agree with you; ritual travel and ascetic travel seem to me two different 'religious' experiences that may nonetheless overlap. Tarquin and his fellow ascetics are after a kind of enlightenment through renunciation, while ritual travellers will probably have less of an idea what they're looking for - their goal is the process itself. (Interestingly, neither of these approaches is particularly concerned with 'discovering other cultures', the supposed raison d'etre of travel...) As for 'mortality' and 'limitations', I'm with you again. These themes are explored in the next piece (Travel as Epic Adventure).
David 17th November 2010
Your thoughts are very well-balanced and elegantly expressed, and I look forward to reading more from you. I think it would be interesting to consider the possibility that in cases in which travel seems "less an assent to cultural values than a means to reflect upon and challenge them", the austerity and disavowal that are the supposed means to a new level of understanding and 'enlightenment' are not a 'counter'- cultural script so much as they are a means by which an individual can better realize ideas and experiences that are already of cultural relevance to the individual in question. And to take this idea further, it could be suggested that the possible continuity between one's 'former' cultural values and the values that one develops during non-ritual-based travel indicates that the personal fulfillment one gets from these non-normative travel-based experiences is actually quite anchored in the prior 'normative' cultural values. In other words, perhaps such travel is not a "search for or a " rejection of", but a "realization of".
As many of us world travelers have come to realize (although I don't want to speak for others!), our experiences away from home often confront us with more questions than answers. Traveling can deepen a void rather than fill one. When our experiences of 'difference' disconcert us, it seems all the more logical that we would find comfort in a sense of continuity with the norms, values, sensations and images that have constituted the majority of our 'non-travel' lives...
Celeste 25th November 2010
I have often seen these figures banded around the internet, 100,00o people taking gap years. The stats actually are very hard to monitor, and personally I do not feel they are correct. After all what is a gap year? People claim to be going on a gap year when they are really just off to Thailand for a month...
gap year 11th August 2011
Please let me know if you're looking for a article author for your weblog. You have some really good articles and I think I would be a good asset. If you ever want to take some of the load off, I'd love to write some content for your blog in exchange for a link back to mine. Please blast me an email if interested. Kudos!
Roseanne 31st March 2012