In the movie The Matrix we learn that the world as we know it is a giant computer simulation. This fact is known only to a handful of humans who have managed to unplug themselves from the program. Sociologists use the term "matrix" to refer to a similar concept-- the sum of all institutions, roles, customs, mores, and taboos that form the unexamined background of our everyday reality. We see the artificial nature of this reality clearly when we travel to a foreign country. The rules governing our own matrix are immediately replaced by the rules of a foreign matrix. The new rules at first seem absurd. It's hard to believe that anyone takes them seriously. But in the end, the pilgrim is faced with two choices: the blue pill-- our version of reality is the right one and all the other realities are wrong-- or the red pill-- our reality is just as absurd as all the others.
The pace of life in most Asian cities borders on chaos. They are noisy, crowded, and hot. The streets are jammed with busses, cars, auto-rickshaws, and cattle. The smell of exhaust and sewage hangs in the air, and there are appalling scenes of poverty. Paradoxically, many Asians seem tranquil by American standards. I think this must be a survival mechanism.
At first I had trouble dealing with the heat and humidity of tropical, equatorial Sri Lanka. I was constantly arriving at meetings and parties drenched in sweat. People would point and laugh. How did they manage to stay cool and dry? I eventually learned the trick: go slow. Walking at a brisk American pace only attracts the sun's attention. Meander down the street as if you were window shopping, even if you're late for a meeting.
The most common mistake tourists make is to try to do too much. It's the "If it's Tuesday this must be Belgium" syndrome. To know a country and its people you need to experience its markets, theaters, and cafes, not its tourist attractions.
One of my favorite travel books is Richard Haliburton's "The Royal Road to Romance". As a young man he spent a year circumnavigated the globe with only a few dollars in his pocket. What I admired most was his spirit of romance and adventure. His travel goal was to experience perfect moments: sunrise at the Taj Mahal, the full moon over Gibralter, climbing Mt. Fuji in winter.
I once asked a friend if he wanted to join me on a trip that I was leaving for the following week. He seriously considered it, but then decided not to go. His reason was that although the trip sounded like fun, he would only have a week to enjoy anticipating it. Alain De Botton's collection of essays "The Art of Travel" explores this often-overlooked dimension of travel. Unlike the fantasy of sitting on a beach sipping a blue cocktail, the reality of sitting on a beach sipping a blue cocktail is often contaminated by mundane details.