Travel writing on the Internet is a slog and I am fed up. I am pretty good at digging through teh Interwebz, and this is mostly what I have found:
Puff pieces. These cater to the armchair traveler-- for that sap in the office who spends his lunch break surfing the net looking for a great way to spend his 2 weeks of vacation-- a.k.a., the fluffy traveler. He wants to know where the cushiest hotels are, he wants to know how to "see a city" in 36 hours, he wants to drool over pictures of a babe getting a massage in the Maldives, he can't wait to make it big (or retire) and spend the rest of his care-free days doing all this great stuff he never has the time or motivation to do right now. Armchair travelers must fuel 90% of the travel writing industry, because 90% of the travel-writing out there is mind-numbingly fluffy.
Personal blogs. Why is it that so many boring people think that the minutiae of their package-tour vacation is of interest to the entire Internet?
General travel interest websites... where only 10% of the articles are actually interesting.
Etc.
Very, very, very rarely, I find actually decent travel writing. I have some criteria for what I want:
1. Technically sound writing.
2. Storytelling structure.
3. A true account of a unique adventure.
4. Personal reflection with emotional depth.
5. Lush, descriptive narration.
6. Captivating contextual engine.
The best piece of travel writing I have ever read is Michael Fay's Megatransect series in National Geographic.
Monday, February 8, 2010
Monday, January 25, 2010
the green hills
i closed my eyes in one world,
and when i opened them,
i did not know if i was asleep
or awake--
[hwy 1 - northern california]
rolling down a highway that's
rolling over hills that are
rolling to the sea,
tossing us around,
as we drive--
the car on these hills: like seals in the surf,
swimming round hills
all covered in ferns and shoots of leaves--
the excitement!
each sprout a neon exclamation point!
new life exhaling the sweetest oxygen...
we were high
so green-- so bright you cannot stare--
so fresh, you feel reborn--
you wonder where you've been all this time--
so far from Eden,
springing to life!
on the hyway--
gray ribbon of asphalt--
dead stone road brings us
in cars made of tin cans
in clothes made of plastic
swaddling naked people,
on the road,
in our shells,
staring out of windows
at the world going by,
in all it's untamed
danger, dirtiness,
freshness and beauty,
all of it--
on the other side of glass
yes, that is where we were:
in tin cages of our design
tourists in Eden
rushing by...
we roll
right on by
through the green fields
we do not stop
we stare from our tin can
cocoon
we dream
in the swaying car
rolling along
we do not stop.
we do not stop for anything.
and when i opened them,
i did not know if i was asleep
or awake--
[hwy 1 - northern california]
rolling down a highway that's
rolling over hills that are
rolling to the sea,
tossing us around,
as we drive--
the car on these hills: like seals in the surf,
swimming round hills
all covered in ferns and shoots of leaves--
the excitement!
each sprout a neon exclamation point!
new life exhaling the sweetest oxygen...
we were high
so green-- so bright you cannot stare--
so fresh, you feel reborn--
you wonder where you've been all this time--
so far from Eden,
springing to life!
on the hyway--
gray ribbon of asphalt--
dead stone road brings us
in cars made of tin cans
in clothes made of plastic
swaddling naked people,
on the road,
in our shells,
staring out of windows
at the world going by,
in all it's untamed
danger, dirtiness,
freshness and beauty,
all of it--
on the other side of glass
yes, that is where we were:
in tin cages of our design
tourists in Eden
rushing by...
we roll
right on by
through the green fields
we do not stop
we stare from our tin can
cocoon
we dream
in the swaying car
rolling along
we do not stop.
we do not stop for anything.
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