het satteliet tv jou bron van avontuur geword?
en is jou playstation nou die somtotaal van jou genot?

het jy gehoor wat het geword van jan tuisbly?
hy het geglo dat hy alles tuis kon kry
en onbewus van wat daar is
wat buite sy voordeur skuil het hy
uitgemis op

acapulco, amsterdam, londen en berlyn
phoenix arizona waar die son ook lekker skyn
brussels, delhi, moskou, machu picchu in peru
san francisco, shangai en ja, selfs ook timbuktu.

Chris Chameleon, Reis

I love this song. The sentiment is something that makes complete sense to me and I know lots of the people feel the same. Travel is a crucial part of being. Not just travel. It’s about having experiences. It struck me last night (which watching a fantastic Chris Chameleon show) that the feeling of wonder that accompanies being in far off places and doing things I wouldn’t normally do (like spending 5 hours travelling in a dodgy taxi that leaked all the way), is the same sense of wonder that accompanies the experience of good live theatre. One of the reasons that Grahamstown festival is such a joy is that it is an increadibly intensive period of wonder. A week filled with hours of suspention of disbelief and believing in magic.

Some people think I am odd because I get so excited about things which seem ordinary to others. I experience such an increadible sense of wonder at some things that others find simple. Sometimes they are as basic as a perfect day or the increadible beauty of a karoo landscape stretching to forever. Other times they are things like shows or art exhibitions or books or lectures that stretch me and make me more than I was before. I recently read (for the first time) On Liberty. The feeling of wonder was the same.

I suppose the realisation is that I want all of my life to be filled with those moments. I may never have stability and the stable satisfaction of the blossoming of relationships and months and years of hard work into something gently beautiful. Perhaps it is sufficient compensation that my years will be filled with moments of extreme, of increadible wonder and joy. Joy will, of course, not fill every moment and my life will continue to have many lows, and lows as hard and deep as the moments of wonder are high. But they are infinitely bearable in exchange for the joy.

When I am old, I shall sit and write and think and remember these moments. Many will have tangible records – photographs, scrapbooks, writing, old newspapers and stories I have kept and the music and writing and pictures of those with whom I have shared those moments. Perhaps it is melancholy and defeatist to think of growing old alone but I like to be realistic. If that is what awaits me, I am so glad I will have these memories to hold on to, these journeys, mental and physical. And I’m so glad that I have learnt to hold on – in the face of all entreaties to be a grown up and not be so excitable –  to this precious capacity to expereince moments of increadible wonder.