By CATHERINE SALTER BAYAR
Here’s my idea of travel torture: Sabotaging a holiday by overpaying someone to impose an itinerary on me.
Visiting 45 countries, I’ve never gone with a tour group, never sailed on a cruise ship. Perhaps I’m allergic to pack mentality because I was born in a tourist town, and have lived in places on touristy top-ten lists my whole life. I dislike being stuck in the company of people “from home” for the same reason I’m uncomfortable in the suburbs: the homogeneity stifles me.
Now on a warm Sunday afternoon, my neighborhood in Istanbul’s old peninsula offers two group extremes. In the convoluted lanes outside Istanbul’s Grand Bazaar, I observe the crowds of local bargain-hunting families. The hawkers are expressive, the mood festive. It’s a day to relax, enjoy each other’s company, and eat a meal together away from home.
In nearby Sultanahmet the mood is frantic. Crowds of sight-seeing tourists are prodded along by their assertive guides. There’s much to see and so little time!
The point of travel is to encounter new cultures, see the world from a different perspective, feel the discomfort of being the only one like you around.
The sameness I avoid in travel also became tiresome when living outside my birth culture, in a small town with restrictive family ties.
Unlike those Grand Bazaar shoppers, my husband and I are black sheep. We prefer the anonymity that huge cities provide, the independence to stand out or blend in as we choose. We’re happiest in a crossroads of cultures, with the Babel of languages in our ears.
How does your travel philosophy reflect your other life choices?
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California native Catherine Salter Bayar creates knitwear, seeks textile treasure, and has left her house on Ayasuluk Hill for a room in Istanbul’s Sultanahmet. She writes about it all in her upcoming book, Weaving Our Way Home.
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