We Had A Good Run

Well, we had a good run. It feels weird to say, but it’s finally election season again, and we’re in for a wild ride.

As Democrats (and Republican primary challengers?) clamber to win our hearts and minds, it really is hard to say which issues will dominate the election.  This administration has undermined American national security and divested from education. It has thrown tenuous progress on healthcare into disarray. It has effected self-defeating economic programs. It’s environmental policies are, just, wow. (Even Nixon signed the Endangered Species Act for chrissake.)

This administration has taken a humanitarian crisis and created a human rights atrocity. It has assailed a free press, the Constitution, and civil liberties at every turn – it’s worth mentioning that this extends far beyond the old leftist tropes of “human rights” and stuff: Donald Trump is on the record saying “take the guns first, go through due process second,” which is incredible, really. Somehow he is still endorsed by the NRA.

And so if you caught the brimming Democratic debates last week, it should not have surprised you to hear a lot of ideas on how to fix this stuff. We heard a few different takes on healthcare. We heard about our rapidly warming climate. We heard about campaign finance, and identity politics, and a Universal Basic Income to combat wealth inequality. This is all really important, but there is something missing from the Democratic field: foreign policy chops.

We’ve had a good run. Belgium, here we come!

In fact, the conversation was so focused on stinting damage domestically that we never looked abroad. The only mention, really, came from Marianne Williamson (who I’m pretty sure is only up there to sell books), when she rightly suggested that any humanitarian crisis on the southern border is a direct result of American foreign policy in Latin America over the last century.

In two years we’ve burned allies, insulted neighbors, praised journalist-murdering dictators, and torpedoed decades of hard-fought diplomacy. Career diplomats have left the State Department out of moral conviction. Right now a handbag designer is leading our efforts in the Korean Peninsula.

The damage done by this administration to American credibility abroad cannot be fixed in a single presidential term, even with a diplomatic genius at the helm, and we don’t have a diplomatic genius in the field. Best case scenario, we are probably looking at another decade of foreign policy floundering as the next administration struggles to right a disastrous four years at home and abroad. Maybe then we can begin to rebuild trust around the world that the United States will at least pretend to support democratic values and strong partnerships.

What this means, really, is that we’ve had a good run on top. We have now burned through all of our international goodwill (from defeating the Nazis, remember) by electing a Nazi sympathizer and allowing him to run this place into the ground. This administration is the beginning of the end of the United States’ global status as a diplomatic leader.

And, I mean, that’s a bummer. But it’s also probably not the end of the world. The Roman Empire fell, and Italy is fine, right? Like many colonial powers before us, it’s just our turn to step down now. Like Portugal. And Holland. And Belgium.

Like, Belgium had a good run, you know? They had their part in the rape and pillage of Africa and then kind of bowed out. As far as I can tell, Belgians now pretty much watch sports and smoke cigarettes and drink a lot of beer. Local beer, even. That place has, like, a lot of different beers. It’s great. And the UN is still based in Brussels – it’s not like it’s all over for them, the same way that New York will probably still be a global financial hub for the foreseeable future. People just won’t ask us for our opinions as much, you know?

And it’s kind of cool, in an historic way, to watch the fall of a great civilization. Can you imagine being there when Nero burned Rome? Now you can! So screw it. I’m going to go have a cigarette and a beer, I hear there’s a football game on.

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Cheesy Allegories (From France)

Skiing uphill takes a long time, even when a gondola does most of the work. It gives you an opportunity to look around. To take it all in. To think about stuff that you usually wouldn’t think about, because you’re usually up to something more productive than slowly walking uphill just to come right back down again.

Sometimes you think about little things like how your boots don’t fit, or the the differences in French and Italian espresso, or how high 4,000 meters is in American and whether that has anything to do with why you’re so tired. But then other times you’re just kind of in awe of the mountains around you and that makes you feel small, and that makes you think about bigger things. And so here we have:

Cheesy Allegories (from France)

  • Ignore Everyone Else – It’s like a ski partner said once: “Ignore everyone else out here. They’re just a bunch of assholes trying to kill you.” It’s not necessarily that they’re bad people, but a lot of them are just out of their element. And when they’re setting skintracks in dangerous places, or kicking rocks on your head, or skiing way too fast for anyone’s good, they’re definitely trying to kill you, whether they know it or not.

    DSC09881
    Here we have someone speedflying through a sea of English tourists. Seems legit.

    The same goes for real life. Sure, outside of texting motorists most people won’t go out of their way kill you, but they’re definitely not worried about not killing you. And it extends to everything from business to waiting in the ice cream line. You do you, and think critically about where you’re going and the best way to get there. Who knows what all those other people out there are even up to, anyway?

  • Don’t Waste Your Weather Window – It turns out it’s pretty easy to burn a few days sipping coffee, booking lodging, and comparing foreign McDonald’s to home. When you touch down for two weeks and you’re graced with warm, sunny days and freezing, starry nights, it’s hard to imagine that changing. “High pressure is stable! We’ll get the lay of the land today, ski that stuff tomorrow!”But then a storm rolls in and you’re stuck in town, forced to choke down espresso drinks and anise liqueur and strange cheeses. You blew it. Ski when it’s time to ski, screw off when it’s time to screw off*. It’s easy to think that you’ve got more time than you do, whether you’re trying to ski corn, write that screenplay, or make all that money in the stock market.
    If you don't go skiing when you're supposed to but go later on instead it looks like this.
    If you don’t go skiing when you’re supposed to but then go later on instead it sometimes looks like this.

    Chances are, the best you can probably rely on is about 30 more winters of skiing hard, and that’s assuming you don’t get pasted later on this week by some distracted driver. How many places do you want to ski? Are you going to make it?

  • Know What You Want To Ski – Of course the other way to blow a weather window (or your irreplaceable youth, in case I’m not laying it on thick enough), is not having any idea what you want to ski. While just showing up and picking ski lines from a terrace while you sip espresso does, actually, kind of work in Chamonix, it’s not a great plan for getting the most out of a short trip. Maybe do a little research before you get on the plane.

    And it’d be silly to seize the day and get to work on that novel you’ve been rolling around in your head if you have absolutely zero interest in writing a novel. The idea that we each have a linear path to happiness is kind of ridiculous, at some level most of us are kind of just bumbling our way through life, but that doesn’t mean you can’t have an idea of what you’d like to get mixed up in. You might only have 30 good winters left in your knees, but that doesn’t mean you’re dead yet and it’s not too late to pivot. What are you doing with yourself, anyway? Do you actually like it?

  • If You’re Going To Screw Off, Enjoy It – Sometimes you miss weather windows. Other times you get off a plane in Guatemala City and your only plan is to hope that some guy who’s name you don’t know and whom you cannot contact will pick you up from baggage claim before you get murdered. That’s fine too! Know when you’re beat (or when you blew it), and just let it ride.Good weather in Chamonix is for skiing objectives, but sometimes it doesn’t come together. If that means you’re sipping espresso while you should definitely be skiing, then, well, shit. Roll a cigarette while you’re at it. If it means you got laid off from work, maybe take those unemployment checks and go to Canada. Or Mexico. Read a long book, drop into a steep line, and remember that skiing isn’t so different from life.
  • Not Everyone Likes Hawaiian Music – Ok so this one is not one of the cheesy allegories. This is just the hard, straight, truth. As much as you and I know that the soothing vocals and hypnotizing ukulele of Isreal Kamakawiwo’ole is, like, real fucking relaxing, not everyone will always see it that way. Don’t ask me how I know. You’ve been warned.

 

 

*This logic built on the premise that skiing is somehow different from screwing off.

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Is Chamonix the Best? Point, Counterpoint.

“I just love it here,” he said. “It’s the best.” He blew cigarette smoke through both nostrils, and went on about baguettes in an accent from somewhere in the south of London. He and his mates ordered another round of pints and struggled to coax ill-fitting rental skis into the hotel lift. The English, it seems, have discovered Chamonix and paved the way for Anglophones to come.

And they’re not wrong. There’s something pretty special about the ‘ol French Alps. But the best? I’m not so sure. And so I present a brief point/counterpoint for how great this place really is.

Food

Point – It’s real good. Cheese. Meats. Wine. All of it. France is the birthplace of haute cuisine, and it sings in the High Savoie. We’re tucked in a valley at the confluence of France, Italy, and Switzerland; on the same block you can eat pizza, fondue, and tartiflette. Baguettes are 80 cents, espresso flows like water, and the cheese actually tastes like cheese.

Counterpoint – Mexican food is hard to come by. Sometimes you really need a taco. There are no tacos here.

DSC00319
The only thing better than coffee and tarts at the top of a tram and the base of Mont Blanc? I guess coffee and tacos . . .

Point – Tipping for service is not customary. It’s simple, easy, and civilized, and makes for a casual, laid back dining experience.

Counterpoint – You may not see your server for hours, and there’s a real chance they’ll be smoking a cigarette when your food comes out.

Skiing

Point – Chamonix is the patron city of ski mountaineering and modern alpinism. $25 sends you from the valley floor to a big ‘ol glacier at 9,000’. A 20 minute traverse leads you back to a midmountain lodge with beer on tap and live music. The access is unparalleled and the ski lines are very, very real. It’s Disneyland for grown ups, a paradise of pucker.

Counterpoint – “Backcountry” isn’t really the word for whatever it is that’s going on here. There’s groomers on the front side and the Mont Blanc Massif on the back side – terrain that would take a long ride in a bush plane to find in Alaska. But here there’s moguls on the glacier, tracks on every line, and hundreds of people around. Helicopters buzz overhead all day and you don’t need to worry about getting lonely out there. Someone knocking sluff on your head? That’s a different thing.

DSC09834
“slackcountry”

The English

Point – Chamonix is an international town. You hear French, Italian, Chinese, English, Romanian, etc. on any given street.

Counterpoint – It’s full of British people and they walk on the wrong side of the sidewalk and it really does mess everything up for the rest of us.

Point – In spite of its popularity with the English, not everyone here speaks English. Sometimes what you think you ordered is not what you ordered.

Counterpoint – Because of its popularity with the English, everyone here hates the English. It’s nice not being English.

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Jetlag: Possible solutions for the hobby traveler

I believe that by now it may already be tomorrow, but I can’t be sure. The airplane shades are drawn and I’ve been watching movies for hours. I don’t think we’ll land much before we left, but I do wonder if I can manage to stay awake until yesterday.

Jetlag, I guess, is a way for the universe to punish us for moving too quickly. If we just walked and paddled to Europe our circadian status quo would stay very much in-whack, and we’d probably sleep pretty well at night. That sounds like a long way to walk.

Instead we spend a few hours in the air, teleport halfway around the world, and spend a week trying to remember which way is up. It’s not a new phenomenon, and it’s not like we don’t have options. Everyone’s got their own fool proof home remedy for staying sharp when you skip a few time zones, and here at The Gentleman at Large, we’ve had the opportunity to test a few of them over the years.

Let’s have a look.

The Prophylaxis– It’s the old “get-on-the-timezone-of-the-place-you’re-headed-a-week-early” trick. This well-meaning but essentially useless advice is one of the oldest. “Sure,” they say. “Just start going to bed at noon the week before you fly to Paris. That way you can have a full and energetic day at the Louvre.” What? Instead of working? Or I mean nevermind work have you ever tried to just go to bed at noon? This doesn’t make any sense. Don’t waste your time or your lunch break.

The Happy Fool – This one is out. If there’s one thing we learned in college, it’s that you should never nap in public. This goes for sleeping on planes, too. And sitting all upright? Drooling on yourself? Your back all contorted? It’s as undignified as running in dress shoes. Avoid it. Order a coffee. Grit your teeth. Take advantage of all the free movies they have these days!

The Cannonball Run – I’m working on this one right now. Especially when travelling east, just stay up. This travel day will end around 6pm, and I’ll have been up, if this works, for about 30 hours. I should be able to check in, zonk out, and be ready to roll tomorrow morning, right? Drink lots of coffee, watch lots of movies, and play pranks on all those fools who didn’t get the memo about sleeping in public. Just now I tied four sets of shoelaces together!

The Pill Popper – I have a feeling this is how international business and diplomacy gets done. Pop an Ambien when you take off and a Provigil when it’s time to get going again. Rinse and repeat as necessary. Just be sure that you don’t have any tricky tight connections with the Ambien Groggies, or you’ll probably miss your flight.

The Nightowl – It’s the only real solution. Plan on being jetlagged. Much of southern Europe and Latin America have nightowl cultures. Worried about jetlag? Just head to Spain! I once spent a week in Barcelona and saw daylight for like four hours. Alternatively, bring a long book, Tolstoy or something, and plan on getting some late-night reading done. Worried about missing out on everything while you’re a jetlag zombie? Plan a longer trip!

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Stop Planning for the Future

Planning for the future is a funny thing. We’ve all got ideas for what we’d like to do. Maybe you’ve got a job you want (or want to quit). Or a degree you’d like to finish. Or a book you’d like to write. Me? I’d like to spend a month in Ireland, living in a van and surfing. The food there is terrific. The people are great. The surfing is world class. I heard they have beer.

It’s something I’d like to do someday, which means that it will never happen.

See, thinking too much about the future is a waste of time, for the sole reason that it’s the future. By definition, it never arrives — by the time the future gets here, it’s the present.

This all seems very circuitous and semantic, except that it’s at the center of why we never seem to get anything done, or achieve those faraway goals. It’s like Steinbeck said about socialism in America, that it never caught on because “we didn’t have any self-admitted proletarians. Everyone was a temporarily embarrassed capitalist.” We tend to think of the future as already clinched, or that it will somehow be different than today. But in order to plan for the future, first we need to plan for the present.

irishsurf
Photo Credit

See, the trip to Ireland sounds great. I’ve got a very clear, very romantic vision of what that month would look like. On the other hand, I have no plane ticket. I have no chunk of time blocked off, no money set aside, and no real idea of an itinerary. Also I don’t know how to surf. The trip is an idea, which so long as it exists safely in an intangible future, may remain nebulously construed and perfect.

It will never, however, happen.

It will never happen as long as it exists in the future (because like we said before, the future, categorically, never arrives). In order for me to head to Ireland to live the surf bum dream, it needs to happen today. Right now. And if I don’t fly out today, then I need to move some element of the trip to today. And another element to tomorrow. The trip itself needs to take place in the present. Maybe that’s buying a plane ticket. Maybe it’s setting aside a few bucks. Maybe is figuring out how to surf. But until something happens today, well, it hasn’t happened yet.

I know that this sounds a bit like navel gazing. Of course big trips and life changes require planning, and that planning can take weeks, months, years. Some might argue that planning an expedition is the best part. I would argue that planning the trip is as much a part of it as boarding a plane or taking the first paddle stroke. In addition to being rewarding (and necessary), it moves the future into the present. This makes whatever “it” is real and no longer hypothetical.

This is bigger than flying to Europe to be homeless.

It’s easy to dream about quitting a job you hate, or getting out of a bad relationship, or writing that novel you’ve got banging around in your head. But by thinking about the future as something that has yet to arrive we’re able to put off making changes indefinitely. The fact is that the future is here, right now. What are you doing to make it better?