Traveling with Philosophes

By Ken Ewell

Join a fellow traveler on a walkabout through Paris and London, and then travel with him across England, Scotland and Wales. After those walkabouts, accompany him as he journeys across America and follows the equator to Australia. Finally, wander with him along the corridors of modern and postmodern philosophy, and as he travels with old and new Philosophes, who all voiced an opinion as regards this travel book.

It is a book that people won't buy, won't read and won't praise. Mark Twain
After reading only a few pages, I gave up the study of philosophy forever. Voltaire
I cannot look upon the book without shedding tears. Bertrand Russell
If I could only make a travel book like that, I would be perfectly willing to die-even anxious. John Dewey
I have seen a great many travel books in my time, but none that this one reminds me of. Will Durant
This travel book is one-third fabrication, one-third prevarication and one-third barefaced lies. However, the rest of the book is the unadulterated truth. Dr. Morris A. Nussbaum

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Aug 27, 2006
• ISBN: 9780595853618

Ken Ewell

Ken Ewell is a San Francisco writer who has written four travel books on Australia, New Zealand, the United Kingdom, and France. He’s also the author of the sequel to this novel, The Philosophical Investigator, a travel story set in Paris.

Book preview

Contents

Acknowledgment

LAYABOUT

A Budding Travel Writer

The Vicissitudes of a Budding Travel Writer

San Francisco

The Happy Happy Hour Traveler

San Franciscan Encounters

FIRST WALKABOUT

Another Innocent Abroad

American Vandals Traveling Abroad

Paris

The Best of All Possible Travelers

Parisian Encounters

Traveling with the First Philosophe

London

The Traveler who saved Western Civilization

Londonian Encounters

SECOND WALKABOUT

A California Yankee in Queen Elizabeth’s Court

A Traveler in Search of Britain

Ewell

The Controversies of Travel

The Midlands

A Traveling Lakeside Poet

The North

Travelers to a Distant Past

The Wall

THIRD WALKABOUT

Another Tramp Abroad

Two Most Literary Travelers

Edinburgh

Traveling to the Western Isles

Scotland

Another Best of All Possible Travelers

Scottish Encounters

A Most Philosophical Traveler

Wales

FOURTH WALKABOUT

The Prof and the Pupil

Traveling with the Last English Philosophe

Old England

What’s Wrong with the Travelers

The South West

Traveling with Freethinkers

Oxford

The Games Travelers Play

Cambridge

FIFTH WALKABOUT

Another Life on the Mississippi

Home Sweet Traveler Home

New England

Traveling with the First American Philosophe

In Transit West

The Traveler’s Guide to Democracy

In Transit South

Traveling on the Mississippi

Hannibal

SIXTH WALKABOUT

Roughing It Again

The Travels of a Budding Journalist

The Comstock Lode

Travels Wide and in Many Directions

Yosemite

The Travels of a Budding Writer

The Mother Lode

The Travels of a Budding Lecturer

More San Franciscan Encounters

FINAL WALKABOUT

Following the Equator Again

Traveling with the Last American Philosophe

Drifting

A Traveler Adrift

Nostos

RELIABLE SOURCES

On Mark Twain and Philosophes and Travelers

Reliable Sources on (or by) Mark Twain

Reliable Sources on (or by) Philosophes and Travelers

Dedicated to six great travel companions: Mark Twain, Voltaire, Bertrand Russell, John Dewey, Will Durant and Dr. Morris A. Nussbaum.

Acknowledgment

I would like to thank the people of England and Scotland and Wales for the friendship and hospitality shown to me while traveling throughout their beautiful and peaceful countries. Without their help, the writing of this travel book would not have been possible. Then again, a lot of Brits may now regret their affability towards me.

LAYABOUT

A Budding Travel Writer

You don’t know me without you have read a couple of books by the names of No Worries, Mate and Voyages of Discovery, but that ain’t no matter. Those books was made by Mr. Ken Ewell, and he told the truth, mainly. There was things which he stretched, but mainly he told the truth. That is nothing.—

The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn

As the salubrious reader may remember, at the end of Voyages of Discovery I mentioned that he would have to wait for another time and another place to hear about the letter that I received only this morning, this one from my other travel companion, Mark. And since this is another time and another place, I might as well follow through on my word. Of course, it should be admitted at the outset that that missive set in motion some walkabouts that caused me to ponder way too long and way too hard on the vicissitudes of life. But before getting around to that messy business, perhaps I’d better tell the reader about what I was up to prior to the arrival of that letter in the mail.

The Vicissitudes of a Budding Travel Writer

San Francisco

After returning from Sydney, and after spending the better part of two years writing up my circumnavigation of Australia and my exploration of New Zealand, I sent the necessary files off to the publisher. And after two months of lounging about the BrewPubs of San Francisco, I discovered in the mail one afternoon a copy of Voyages of Discovery, which was my second travel book on the lands down under. So being neither a ne’er-do-well nor one of idle mind, I set about the business of selling that book, as well as about the business of increasing the sales of my first travel book, No Worries, Mate. Needless to say, that latter course of action was most definitely necessary, for in the four years since its publication that first manly adventure in the land down under had sold only seventeen copies. Loads of worries, mate.

The No Worries Reviews

Folks in the know all agree that a book review is a surefire method for increasing the sales of a book, at least it is some of the time. Unfortunately, prior to my leaving for another manly adventure in the land down under, No Worries, Mate had received only that unfortunate review that Dr. Nussbaum wrote for the Australian journal, Beerosophy Today. And though the good Doctor later explained to me that he’d been drinking the juice of the vine while writing that tirade, his explanation and apology did nothing to correct the damage done to my somewhat fragile reputation as a budding travel writer. So though it still hurts me to see it, I’ll include his polemic here for the benefit of anyone who may have missed that particular literary critique.

To set the record straight at the outset, I have never met nor do I ever care to meet the American travel writer, Mr. Ken Ewell, though I apologize to the reader for associating the word writer with this most illiterate individual. He claims to have met me in Sydney on a number of occasions, and to have visited the Institute of Manlyness at my invitation. These assertions are nothing but bold-faced lies, ones that deserve great and adamant condemnation. Of course I somewhat recollect an odd individual that was attired in a brightly-colored Aloha shirt, who a few years back attempted to break into the Institute for unknown reasons. Fortunately, that miscreant was duly led away by the proper authorities, and to the best of my recollection he spent a few nights pondering on the vicissitudes of life at the expense of the local taxpayers.

But since someone has sent me a copy of that individual’s peculiar book, No Worries, Mate, to review, I’ll spend a few moments exposing the insolence, the impertinence, the presumption, the mendacity, and, above all, the majestic ignorance of this author. Naturally, I quote here from another travel book review written in London around 1870. Firstly, as to this little matter of being manly. Well it goes without saying that driving to the summits of mountains, lollygaging about on beaches and dissipating oneself within the confines of local pubs can hardly constitute the makings of what the author is constantly referring to as a Manly Man. And if Mr. Ewell imagines that he has any manful similarities to the Australian Aborigine, just because he misplaced his thongs while climbing to the top of Ayers Rock, then he is sadly misinformed on the matter of manliness. Needless to say, I speak with some authority on this subject.

Now, as to this stupefying matter of the author’s repeated references to Australian misnomers. This seemingly endless list has caused the entire people of a peaceful and cordial nation to recoil in horror, and I can offer only one explanation—Mr. Ewell is an American. And being so, he must always demand that the world order itself with respect to that peculiar manifestation of life that forever haunts the world today—American Know How. Well thank you very much, sir, but we Australians are more than competent at organizing our own affairs without your pernicious and meddling advice.

As concerns his other comments about the Australian people, Mr. Ewell paints a rather whimsical portrait of us that comes from spending far too much time in the pub with his oft-quoted reliable sources. In fact, his blatant ignorance as regards the nature of the ordinary Aussie has only one possible explanation. I contend and firmly believe that this man may have never even set foot in the land down under, and that his entire knowledge of Australia comes from reading outdated tourist brochures and watching Crocodile Dundee too many times. In saying this I hope that my libelous accusation is one day settled in a court of law, where this miscreant can finally be exposed to the public for what he is, that being a literary fraud.

Continuing on, another interesting aspect of this would-be travel writer’s work is that Mr. Ewell constantly makes the assertion that he has never spent any amount of time pondering on things. Of course as it turns out, this is the most accurate judgement in his book. For sadly, it appears that Mr. Ewell has never spent even one moment of his rather shallow and inebriated existence becoming cognitively acquainted with anything more complex than when Happy Hour begins each day. Very sad, indeed!

So as regards this journal of a wandering swagman on a manly adventure in the land down under, the reader of this questionable volume should always remain skeptical while following this individual’s manful exploits as he closes the pubs of Sydney, tramps about the Blue Mountains of New South Wales, cruises on Victoria’s Great Ocean Road, searches for the elusive Tasmanian devil, surfs the shores of Queensland, dives along the Great Barrier Reef, explores Kakadu National Park in the Northern Territory, and as he manfully climbs Ayers Rock. And the reader should also remain skeptical while following this individual as he hones his manly virtues on the beach, around the barbie, at the track and in the Australian Outback, which according to the author are feats seldom seen in these less than manful times.

Finally, and borrowing from an authentic American travel writer, the reader must not imagine that he is to find in it wisdom, brilliancy, fertility of invention, ingenuity of construction, excellence of form, purity of style, perfection of imagery, truth to nature, clearness of statement, humanly possible situations, humanly possible people, fluent narrative, connected sequence of events—or philosophy, or logic, or sense. No; the rich, deep, beguiling charm of the book lies in the total and miraculous absence from it of all these qualities—a charm which is completed and perfected by the evident fact that the author, whose naive innocence easily and surely wins our regard, and almost our worship, does not know that they are absent, does not even suspect that they are absent.

Naturally, I would condemn this individual further if I didn’t believe that more invective might completely loosen Mr. Ewell’s somewhat tenuous grasp of reality, with the result being his removal to a lunatic asylum for the criminally insane. So in conclusion, I leave it to the discriminating reader to decide whether life is so filled with days as to warrant squandering a few of them away in reading the travel book, No Worries, Mate. For me, however, life is far too short and far too uncertain.

Since there appeared to be little chance that anyone would review my second manly adventure in the lands down under, using a pseudonym I took it upon myself to write a fine review for an on-line bookseller, and I eventually made fifty bucks for my efforts. And because that review is a superlative example from that particular literary genre, I’ve included it here to help other writers, travel or otherwise, in getting their first scholarly efforts reviewed by a distinguished reviewer.

Having just finished reading Voyages of Discovery, I feel compelled to offer my thoughts on what must be the most exceptional book of travel written in the last one hundred years. This literary masterpiece, if I may use the expression, is the journal of the continuing travels of a wandering swagman on a manly adventure in the lands down under. First off, the author joins the English explorer, Matthew Flinders, on a circumnavigation of Australia. This voyage of discovery includes extensive explorations of South Australia and Western Australia, which are the two states that he did not journey to while on his first manly adventure in the land down under.

Then, and as if that wasn’t manly enough, the author joins the English explorer, James Cook, on an exploration of New Zealand. On the North Island he explores the volcanic White Island, fishes for rainbow trout on the beautiful Lake Taupo, hikes along the legendary Tongariro Crossing, and ventures into the underworld of the Waitomo Caves. On the South Island he kayaks the rugged Abel Tasman coast, cruises on the magnificent Milford Sound, and climbs the glaciers and mountains of the awe-inspiring Southern Alps.

Not only is the author well versed in the use of the English language, which is a rarity these days, but he also displays an astonishing amount of knowledge concerning the peoples and places of Australia and New Zealand. In addition, his understanding of the academic disciplines that fall under the rubrics of Beeosophy and Pubology is almost without equal, as is his ability to explain the underlying concepts of those two intellectual concerns to the layperson. In conclusion, I would wholeheartedly recommend this travel book to anyone who enjoys reading a work that contains witty prose and keen insights and thoughtful reflection.

Dr. Sidney Goldstein, Director Emeritus of the Institute of Island Psycho-Biology, Waikiki, Hawaii.

Of course a budding travel writer shouldn’t let reviews such as the first one get him down, nor should he take a review such as the second one too seriously, even if it is written by someone other than the budding travel writer. No, the real success of a travel book is the money it puts into a budding travel writer’s pockets. And this is a fact observed by the greatest travel writer of all time and my oldest travel companion, Mark Twain: Write without pay until somebody offers pay. If nobody offers within three years, the candidate may look upon this circumstance with the most implicit confidence as the sign that sawing wood is what he was intended for.

Needless to say, and even though it’s now been almost ten years, I never took Mark’s timeframe as gospel.

The No Worries Projects

Then again, a review isn’t the only way to increase the sales of a book, for an even better way to get sales moving is to make that book into a movie. So with that in mind, I set about the business of outlining a script for No Worries, Mate: The Movie. And though the many outlines that I sent to Hollywood never received so much as a note of thanks, I still feel that my efforts might some day result in a film that will set new standards in the often overlooked genre that encompasses the Manly Travel Epic.

Scene 1: Ayers Rock, Northern Territory: The first scene opens with a view of coach wheels rolling along an Outback road, and in the background is the manly theme from the Big Country. The camera next pans out to view Ayers Rock off in the distance, and it then follows the coach to the base of The Rock. Then someone who looks an awful lot like the author of No Worries, Mate exits the coach, after which that rugged Outback Man turns to the camera to tell the audience about his manly adventure in the land down under.

Scene 2: San Francisco, California (flashback): The camera, which is situated in the middle of a long boardroom table, centers on a stern and no nonsense supervisor who’s talking seriously about company matters. After finishing, he asks everyone at the table for their input, and the camera then rotates around to each attendee, with all but one of them attired in conservative black suits. The stern and no nonsense supervisor then asks for input from someone who looks an awful lot like the author of No Worries, Mate, and the camera eventually centers on him. That rugged Manly Man is dressed in an Aloha shirt from the Classic Period, and he’s seen looking at a guidebook to Australia. His only response to the stern and no nonsense supervisor is that he has little to say on company matters, and that he’ll be away from the office while on a manly adventure in the land down under. He then rises from the table, looks around at his unmanly coworkers, and then strides out of the office to the manly theme from Rawhide.

Scenes 3 to 116 (yet to outline): Beginning in Sydney, the movie follows someone who looks an awful lot like the author of No Worries, Mate around the land down under. It is a journey that moves first through New South Wales and Victoria and Tasmania, then back to Victoria and New South Wales. The film then follows someone who looks an awful lot like the author of No Worries, Mate through Queensland and the Northern Territory, with the manly theme from The Magnificent Seven accompanying each new setting.

Scene 117: Ayers Rock, Northern Territory: The final scene is filmed from a helicopter and is set to the manly theme from How The West Was Won, and it shows an Outback Man standing on the summit of Ayers Rock. And needless to say, that manful individual is someone who looks an awful lot like the author of No Worries, Mate.

To also increase the sales of my first travel book, I went about the messy business of translating No Worries, Mate into French. The only problem with my commendable course of action was that I didn’t speak or read a word of French, which is a fact that probably doesn’t surprise the reader. But not to be held back by something as unimportant as that, I went to a local bookstore and purchased a fine volume for translating English into French, though it also accommodates the reverse linguistic action if I’m ever required to perform such a chore. After settling in with a pint of the amber nectar during Happy Hour at my local Brew-Pub, I attempted to translate the title, the subtitle, my name and the dedication of my first travel book. And for the benefit of the reader, I’ll list those English phrases below for those suffering from an acute case of Pub-Induced Amnesia (PIA).

No Worries, Mate

A Manly Adventure in the Land Down Under

Ken Ewell

Dedicated to America’s greatest travel writer,

Mark Twain,

and to the cordial folks who call Australia home.

Fortunately, the title of my travel book turned out to be quite an easy exercise in translation, and I came up with Aucun Inquietudes, Amis on my first go round. Now the s at the end of the second word was added of course to indicate the plural of that particular term, and it’s an addition that’s both straightforward and sensible, at least to folks knowledgeable in the French language. Naturally, I left off all those troublesome apostrophes and other marks that the French are so prone to putting over their vowels, and I’m certain that those linguistic omissions will eventually become the norm, at least once my first travel book is available to the French-speaking peoples.

As it turned out, the subtitle of my travel book posed a formidable obstacle to my task of translating the book into French. The problem, of course, was the lack of any word in the French language for the term manly. So rather than confuse the good people of France, or any of its dominions, with a concept that’s obviously completely foreign to them, I chose to leave the entire phrase in English.

The translation of my name into French at first proved a difficult chore, mainly because my dictionary didn’t offer translations of personal titles. Fortunately, there was a somewhat inebriated Parisian in the pub that afternoon. So I wrote down my name on a piece of paper, handed it to him while pointing to myself, and motioned for him to write down my name in French. As he was quite amenable to this exercise, he quickly wrote down my name in the French language. That translation is Etranger Cochon, which has quite a pleasant ring to it.

Unfortunately, the translation of the dedication proved to be the most time-consuming aspect of my Happy Hour project. But despite the difficulty of the chore, my quite admirable result was D’dicateure a Chien-Imperial’s ecrivan voyageur grandest, Marque de Twainette, et a un cordial gens (et gans) qui cri Australie demeure. And though it’s clearly a very fine translation, perhaps a few explanations are in order.

D’dicateure is my own free-style translation of dedicated, using the common linguistic addition eure that often appears at the end of French words. And although Chien-Imperial’s appears to indicate the Chinese Emperor’s instead of America’s, that inebriated Parisian in the pub guaranteed me that it was most definitely accurate in this context. Moving on, the expression ecrivan voyageur grandest appears in the reverse order of the English words for greatest travel writer, with the reason for this being that the French enjoy mixing up their words for no apparent reason. Of course I’ll offer no explanation for the translation Marque de Twainette, for that transliteration should be clear to even those who know very little of the French language. Moving on again, since gens refers only to men, I added et gans in parentheses, the reason being that a translator should always error on the side of caution. Finally, qui cri Australie demeure is a fairly straightforward translation, at least for those readers fluent in the French language.

So the final translation of the title, the subtitle, my name and the dedication of my first travel book ended up the following list of superb French and English expressions.

Aucun Inquietudes, Amis A Manly Adventure in the Land Down Under

Etranger Cochon

D’dicateure a Chien-Imperial’s ecrivan voyageur grandest, Marque de Twainette, et a un cordial gens (et gans) qui cri Australie demeure.

Needless to say, I hope to finish my translation of the entire travel book some day, for learning a new language is always an enjoyable and rewarding experience.

The No Worries Pub

Knowing that it might take some time for my No Worries movie project to get picked up, I came upon the ingenious and perhaps profitable idea of becoming a publican, if only to offer a convenient place for folks to buy my travel books. Of course given all the fine BrewPubs in San Francisco, I figured that I’d need to find an untapped brewer’s niche. And after much thought I came upon the concept of opening up the bar, Generation Laggere, where the lost souls of Generation Latte could find a purpose in life, that being to toss away their cups of fancy coffee in favor of downing mugs of fancy beer.

As an aside, there’s lately been a great deal of discussion about the outrageous price of gasoline in San Francisco, which is a city where petrol sometimes sells for almost four dollars a gallon. On the other hand, there’s seldom heard a word about the outrageous price of fancy coffee, despite the fact that a few simple calculations offer evidence that that is one of the postmodern world’s costliest expenditures.

Returning to my plans for the BrewPub, I knew that to appeal to my much-befuddled clientele I’d have to make the beers few in number, otherwise their already choice-riddled day would become even more confusing than ever. I came to this conclusion after discovering on the sidewalk outside one of those pernicious coffee establishments a twenty-four page instruction booklet explaining the proper way to order a cup of coffee, as well as a list of the choices for that libation.

Size Choices: Tall, Grande, Venti

Espresso Type Choices: Regular, Decaf, Half-Caf, Ristretto

Espresso Number Choices: Single, Double, Triple

Syrup Choices: Vanilla, Sugar-Free Vanilla, Caramel, Almond, Hazelnut, Raspberry, Irish Crème, Peppermint, Valencia, Cinnamon, Classic, None

Milk Choices: Whole, Nonfat, Lowfat, Half & Half, Organic, Soy, None

Additional Choices: Foamy, Flat, Whipped Cream, Light, Sugar Substitute, Extra Hot

So since starting out the day encompasses a decision involving 18,144 possibilities for a bloody cup of coffee, the primitives of Generation Latte are clearly left in no fit condition to make too many choices at the end of the day. But not to worry, for after much thought I decided that my BrewPub would offer only four simple selections encompassing a fine quartet of thirst-quenching and mouth-watering brews.

Laggere Lager: Golden in color and with a hoppy bitterness, our flagship American-style draught is best savored after a day of drinking lattes and avoiding productive or useful work of any kind.

Full of Angst Ale: Amber-colored and with a creamy white head, this Scottish-style pure malt ale is designed to fill the void of going through life with absolutely nothing to do and nowhere to go.

The Pontificating Porter: Cask-pulled and full-bodied, this English-style porter offers a rich fruity aroma that’s best enjoyed while smoking a pack of cigarettes and discussing the dietary advantages of being a vegan.

Clothed in Black Stout: Brewed from roasted barley, this Irish-style stout is perfect for those many days when you can’t figure out which all-black ensemble to wear to your local coffee house.

Of course I knew that I’d need to offer just the right music in Generation Laggere, so I visited the Silver Cloud Karaoki Bar on Lombard Street every night for a couple of weeks. And once on stage I recorded a now legendary CD, Karaoki Ken: Alive in the Silver Cloud, which features a collection of standards dedicated to the greatest saloon singer of all time, Mr. Frank Sinatra.

Unfortunately, due to distribution problems I never released my CD, and as well I never opened up Generation Laggere, nor did I finish the French translation or the script for No Worries, Mate. However, I did receive a check for fifty bucks in the mail one afternoon, which I cashed while on my way to the San Francisco Brewing Company for Happy Hour. And while enjoying a cold and frothy one in my local BrewPub, I consoled myself about my idle ways with the thoughts of a quite extraordinary Englishman who many years ago wrote an essay, In Praise of Idleness.

Like most of my generation, I was brought up on the saying: Satan finds some mischief for idle hands to do. Being a highly virtuous child, I believed all that I was told, and acquired a conscience which has kept me working hard down to the present moment. But although my conscience has controlled my actions, my opinions have undergone a revolution. I think that there is far too much work done in the world, that immense harm is caused by the belief that work is virtuous, and that what needs to be preached in modern industrial countries is quite different from what always has been preached. I want to say, in all seriousness, that a great deal of harm is being done in the modern world by the belief in the virtuousness of work, and that the road to happiness and prosperity lies in an organized diminution of work.

The Happy Happy Hour Traveler

San Franciscan Encounters

Happy Hour each day is a happy relief from the rather unrewarding, and often quite discouraging, business of selling travel books. For as every pub dweller knows, that very special and happy hour offers a very special and happy reward, that being a pint of the amber nectar. And for that reason, Happy Hour always finds me at my local BrewPub, the San Francisco Brewing Company, which is located at 155 Columbus Avenue.

Traveling with Mark

In addition to a cold and frothy one, Happy Hour also offers something else of great value, that being, a time for traveling vicariously through the journeys of other travel writers. For though the money or the time may not always be there for an actual journey to places unknown, the next best thing in life is to find oneself in the pub with a good travel book in one’s hands. And needless to say, the travel books that I usually entertain myself with during Happy Hour are by the greatest travel writer of all time and my oldest travel companion, Mark Twain.

Many readers of Mark’s books aren’t aware of how much time he spent on the road, but fortunately for all of us, five of his journeys were published as travel books. The Innocents Abroad; or, The New Pilgrim’s Progress (1869) tells of Mark’s first visit to the Continent, and it’s a humorous journey through Southern Europe and the Holy Lands. He continues his observations of Europe in A Tramp Abroad (1880), and this account is of an excursion through Germany and Switzerland and Northern Italy.

Not surprisingly, Mark also traveled extensively throughout America, and he left a couple of chronicles concerning those journeys. In Roughing It (1872) Mark offers the adventures of an unlikely Manly Man traveling about Nevada and California during the gold rush of the mid-1860’s, and it’s also the story of his beginnings as a journalist and a writer and a lecturer. And in Life on the Mississippi (1883) Mark first remembers his days as a manful steamboat pilot on the Old Muddy prior to the outbreak of the Civil War, after which he takes the reader on a journey down the Mississippi two decades later.

Mark also wrote one other travel book, Following the Equator: A Journey Around the World (1897), and it’s a work that came to be instrumental in the writing of No Worries, Mate and Voyages of Discovery. For whenever on a down under walkabout, I always kept a copy of his final travel book close at hand so that I could retrace his manly Aussie and Kiwi footsteps of the 1890’s.

Dates in 1895/1896 September 15 to September 25 September 26 to October 11 October 12 to October 16 October 17 October 18 October 19 to October 22 October 23 to October 24 October 25 October 26 to October 27 October 28 October 29 to October 31 November 1 November 2 November 3 to November 4 November 5 November 6 to November 8 November 9 to November 10 November 11 November 12 to November 16 November 17 November 18 Walkabout Sydney, New South Wales Melbourne, Victoria Adelaide, South Australia Horsham, Victoria Stawell, Victoria Ballarat, Victoria Bendigo, Victoria Maryborough, Victoria Melbourne, Victoria Geelong, Victoria Melbourne, Victoria At sea Hobart, Tasmania At sea Invercargill, South Island Dunedin, South Island Timaru, South Island Oamaru, South Island Christchurch, South Island Wellington, North Island Nelson, South Island

Of course since a man’s life is really just one long journey anyway, during Happy Hour I often turned to the pages of Mark Twain, a Biography: The Personal and Literary Life of Samuel Langhorne Clemens (1912), which is Mark’s official biography written by Albert Bigelow Paine. That book on Mark’s life was not only thoroughly entertaining and informative, but it was also of immeasurable value for my research while writing Traveling with Philosophes. And also while enjoying his life, I kept track of where and when and in what capacity Mark traveled, just for the benefit of the interested Twainophile.

Printer (July 1853 to April 1857): Missouri, New York, Pennsylvania, Washington D.C., New York, Missouri, Ohio

Life on the Mississippi (April 1857 to May 1861): Mississippi River

Roughing It (July 1861 to November 1866): Missouri, Kansas, Colorado, Wyoming, Utah, Nevada, California, Nevada, California, Sandwich Islands, California, Nevada, California

Traveler (December 1866 to January 1867): Panama, Florida The Innocents Abroad (June 1867 to November 1867): Azores, Gibraltar,

France, Italy, Greece, Turkey, Russia, Lebanon, Syria, Israel, Jordan, Egypt, Gibraltar, Spain Writer (April 1868 to July 1868): California, Nevada Lecturer (November 1868 to March 1869): Ohio, Pennsylvania, Missouri, Illi

nois

Lecturer (October 1871 to February 1872): Pennsylvania, Illinois, Indiana, Massachusetts Traveler (August 1872 to October 1872): England Lecturer (May 1873 to November 1874): England, Scotland, Ireland,

England, France, England Traveler (May 1877): Bermuda A Tramp Abroad (April 1878 to Autumn 1878): Germany, Switzerland, Italy Traveler (Winter 1878 to September 1879): Germany, France, Belgium,

Netherlands, Germany, England Life on the Mississippi (April 1882 to Autumn 1882): Mississippi River Writer (November 1884 to March 1885): New York, New Jersey, Illinois,

Missouri Writer (June 1891 to May 1895): France, Switzerland, Germany, Switzerland,

France, Germany, France, Italy, Switzerland, Germany, Italy, Germany, France, England Following the Equator (July 1895 to July 1896): Ohio, Minnesota, Canada,

Montana, Canada, Sandwich Islands, Australia, New Zealand, Australia, Ceylon, India, Pakistan, Ceylon, Mauritius, Mozambique, South Africa, England Writer (July 1896 to October 1900): England, Holland, Germany, Switzerland, Austria, Hungary, Czechoslovakia, Germany, England, Sweden, England

Traveler (June 1901 to September 1901): New York, Canada Traveler (April 1902 to May 1902): Bahamas, West Indies Writer (May 1902 to June 1902): Missouri Traveler (June 1902 to October 1902): Maine Traveler (October 1903 to July 1904): Gibraltar, Italy Traveler (Summer 1905): New Hampshire Traveler (May 1906 to September 1906): New Hampshire Writer (June 1907 to July 1907): England Traveler (Winter 1907): Bermuda Traveler (Winter 1908): Bermuda Traveler (November 1909 to December 1909): Bermuda Traveler (January 1910 to April 1910): Bermuda

As a note to the interested Twainophile, the four volumes of Mark’s official biography are no longer in print, though they are available in html format at several sites on the web. But since at some point in my research I got tired of forever consulting those web sites while writing about Mark’s life, instead of revisiting them over and over again, I found it easier to simply copy and paste and reformat the text from those sites into MS Word documents. And since those documents may be helpful to other readers or writers of Mark’s life, they’re available gratis on my No Worries, Mate web site, which is forever located at www.noworriesmate.com.

Lastly, sometimes I’d also entertain myself during Happy Hour by reading three of Mark’s travel lectures, all of which ended up being quoted from in Traveling with Philosophes. Two of those lectures are Our Fellow Savages of the Sandwich Islands, which is based on his visit to Hawaii in Roughing It, and The American Vandal Abroad, which is based on his tour of Southern Europe in The Innocents Abroad. As to the third, Reforming the World is the lecture on morals that Mark offered during his Round the World tour while Following the Equator. Of course Mark did have something to say about the art of offering a lecture: I have been cautioned to talk but to be careful not to say anything. I do not consider this a difficult task. But since nothing could be further from the truth, those three lectures in their entirety are also available on the No Worries, Mate web site.

Some Happy Holiday Missives

After settling in for Happy Hour one late afternoon, I took out of my pocket a letter that had arrived earlier in the mail. That letter turned out to be a Happy Holidays missive from my old travel companion, Dr. Nussbaum, who was formerly Director Emeritus of the Institute of Manlyness in Sydney. But before telling the reader about that disturbing missive, I should remind him about what I wrote in No Worries, Mate concerning one particular Christmas morning on the Gold Coast of Queensland in Australia.

After breakfast, and despite being under the debilitating influence of early morning holiday champagne, it came time to complete an important annual event. My Happy Holidays letter is a yearly commentary to family and friends informing them as to my current whereabouts, as well as to my current demeanor. Now whether that effort on my part is greatly appreciated or not is generally unknown to me, though I’m proud to say that only a few dozen letters are ever returned unopened each year. And given that I often send out hundreds of such correspondences, that’s a fairly low rate of return.

The idea behind this uniquely American tradition is to allow family and friends the chance to appreciate one’s successful ventures of the past year, and to announce the many unconquered new heights looming just on the horizon. Of course whether those new heights are indeed ever scaled is rarely discovered by family or friends, for the letter of the following year seldom carries a mention of those once cherished opportunities.

So even though I was on a manly adventure in the land down under, it would have been unfair and mean-spirited of me to disappoint the throngs of admirers waiting back home who were anxious to hear of my current whereabouts and my current demeanor. Surprisingly, my Christmas effort that day turned out a very commendable one, despite the fact that I was under the debilitating influence of early morning holiday champagne. And to stimulate the reader’s interest, I’ve included the letter here so that others might better appreciate the possibilities of this annual literary genre.

Happy Holidays to ____________________,

The challenges and tribulations of the past year have once again been successfully surmounted, and my feeling of self-worth has reached unprecedented heights. I’m certain that you’ll share in the joy of my renewed sense of self-esteem, and wish me well in whatever creative direction my unique and extraordinary life will take in the future. The upcoming year will still see me participating in a manly adventure in the land down under, and I might add, one that is filled with great distinction and purpose. Without a doubt it’s always a pleasure to write and tell you about myself, and I’m certain that you look forward to receiving this eloquent note each year. Of course, I fail to see how you could feel otherwise.

Yours in glowing self-approval, Ken.

Now, back to the BrewPub and to the letter from Dr. Nussbaum. As the reader of Voyages of Discovery undoubtedly remembers, a few years back the good Doctor retired up to Cooktown in the far north of Queensland, where he spends each day fishing for the elusive barramundi. But despite retiring to one of the most beautiful and peaceful places in the world, the tone of his last Happy Holidays missive was one of a man forever pondering on the vicissitudes of life. And as it turned out, his annual commentary to family and friends informing them as to his current whereabouts, as well as to his current demeanor, was also a harbinger that a great change was about to take place in his life.

Happy Holidays to Whomever,

Fortunately, another year has come and gone. And if previous years are any indication, the upcoming twelve months will be as uneventful and lacking in promise as those dozen months now ending. Nevertheless, at least we can all take comfort in the fact that as the clock of time ticks inevitably on, there remain for us fewer and fewer days that will require our attention in the future. However, this should not be a cause of great concern. For upon death we can all look forward to an afterlife that’s much the same as this life, that being an eternity that’s cold and meaningless. Of course if the Christians are correct on the matter, a much warmer afterlife awaits most of you.

Although not one to ever complain about the many and never-ending vicissitudes of life, I must take issue with a recent avalanche of e-mail greeting cards that purport to wish me Happy Holidays. Sadly, it’s clear to me that little to no effort was put into any of those rather dismissive messages. For without a doubt, those tidings involved neither a walk to the store to select the appropriate card, nor a slight effort in using a pen, nor the casual licking of a postage stamp, nor the placing of the card in a convenient mailbox. Furthermore, those e-mails also involved absolutely no outlay of funds, thus indicating to me a complete lack of financial commitment as regards our future dealings with one another. So with respect to my annual Happy Holidays missive, after this year I’ll no longer be sending out my recurring letter to any of you.

In conclusion, I sincerely hope that over the next twelve months you all get out of life what you all so clearly deserve…good and hard.

Sincerely, Dr. Morris A. Nussbaum.

As the reader can well imagine, I was somewhat shocked and concerned at the contents of that letter, which I suspected might have been written after a day of fishing for the elusive barramundi, which are fishes that often remain extremely elusive. And I was even more shocked and concerned after I turned his Happy Holidays missive over to find on the back some scribbled musings, for they were lines clearly written by a man with too much time on his hands.

I always look forward to the Christmas season, and to telling every spoiled little brat with a smile on his face or a laugh in his mouth that there ain’t no bloody Santa—I like to call it reality therapy.

Whoever said, Tis better to give than to receive, just got something.

I had just the right amount to eat and drink last night…too much.

The only exercise a man ever needs in life is running to the pub, climbing onto a barstool, and lifting one cold and frothy one after another.

The difference between a dog and a man is a simple one: a dog doesn’t need to go to work to lick someone’s ass.

No Worries, Mate is one-third fabrication, one-third prevarication and one-third barefaced lies. However, the rest is the unadulterated truth.

Between the Outback Man and myself, we cover completely any available learning in the field of Beerosophy. I know all there is to know on the subject, and he knows all the rest.

A man should remain a metaphysical chameleon in life, and believe devoutly in the god of whatever women he’s sleeping with at the moment.

Given that life goes by quickly whenever I have a good time, I make it a point to always have a disagreeable time. In this way, and only in this way, I live a longer life.

The only time I feel at home…is when I’m on the road.

Traveling with Philosophes

Unfortunately, I didn’t hear again from Dr. Nussbaum, though what with my time consumed by my continuing efforts at selling travel books, I’d little time left to worry about the good Doctor. Then one afternoon in late spring I received another letter, and since it was again close to Happy Hour, I stuck the missive in my pocket and made my way to the San Francisco Brewing Company. And once firmly ensconced in my usual spot in my local BrewPub, I opened the letter, which turned out to be from my oldest travel companion, Mark.

Outback Man,

It has been a couple of years since all that trouble in Sydney, and a couple of years since I last enjoyed a cold and frothy one with you. In the intervening period I have been on a lengthy journey throughout Europe, and have spent time visiting many of the places that I wrote about in Innocents Abroad and in A Tramp Abroad. I am currently spending a few weeks in Paris, and I thought that it would be pleasant for us to travel together once again. My intention is to journey throughout England, Scotland and Wales. And if the energy is not wanting, I might even cross the pond and visit a few places of special interest to me in America. I realize that you have a very busy schedule, but if time allows, I would like you to meet me at the Normandy Hotel in Paris within a week.

Your faithful travel companion, Mark.

Needless to say, my concerns about selling travel books were now at an end, at least for the time being. And though I didn’t know it at the time, Dr. Nussbaum’s concerns about what to do in his retirement years were also now at an end, for Mark had sent a similar letter to the good Doctor in Australia. But since the idea of once again traveling with Mark and writing up our walkabouts together greatly appealed to me, I was suddenly confronted with the need for a travel writer’s purpose. Fortunately, Mark was able to help me with that purpose through some thoughts that he offered in Innocents Abroad. Of course his words have been slightly altered, but this is my usual habit.

This book is a record of a pleasure trip. If it were a record of a solemn philosophical expedition, it would have about it that gravity, that profundity and that impressive incomprehensibility which are so proper to works of that kind, and withal so attractive. Yet notwithstanding it is only a record of a walkabout, it has a purpose, which is, to suggest to the reader how he would be likely to see knowledge and truth if he looked at them with his own eyes instead of the eyes of those who traveled in those abstractions before him. I make small pretense of showing any one how he ought to look at objects of interest beyond the commonplace—other books do that, and therefore, even if I were competent to do it, there is no need.

Lastly, and as a warning to the reader, the philosophes and travelers that I met on these walkabouts often caused me to question many of my long-held political and religious beliefs. So if the reader feels uncomfortable in perhaps doing the same, I’ll somewhat understand his reluctance to purchase this book, though I won’t absolve him of the obligation to shout me a cold and frothy one next time we meet in the pub. But you see, reader, I could not have written this travel book in any other way. And as Mark also wrote in Innocents Abroad: I offer no apologies for any departures from the usual style of travel-writing that may be charged against me—for I think I have seen with impartial eyes, and I am sure I have written at least honestly, whether wisely or not.

Before finally getting on to the task at hand, the discerning reader may find it somewhat impudent on my part to straight away associate myself with such a renowned travel writer as Mark Twain. And that discerning reader may suspect that my real travel purpose here is to compare myself, favorably, with the greatest of all travel writers. But in fact, and if it doesn’t appear like I’m bragging, Mark happens to be a long-standing travel companion of mine, so deal with it. Be that as it may, I’ve made it a point in life to never listen to the insults of ne’er-do-wells or those of idle mind, not that the present reader is one of these, though I must hold out that distinct possibility.

FIRST WALKABOUT

Another Innocent Abroad

Good friends, good books and a sleepy conscience: this is the ideal life.— Mark Twain

After reuniting with Dr. Nussbaum and Mark, the three of us explored Paris, where we met a man who was most definitely the best of all possible travelers. And once on the other side of the English Channel and while exploring London, we met the man who saved Western Civilization. However, at this point I’ll leave open the question of whether or not it was worth saving that particular civilization.

American Vandals Traveling Abroad

Paris

Within a week of receiving that invitation I found myself landing in Paris in the late afternoon, and I immediately made my way to the hotel where Mark was staying in the city. After catching up over a cold and frothy one in the bar, and after listening to him practice a lecture that he was to give that evening, I went with Dr. Nussbaum on a walkabout to a most famous restaurant. And though I’ll go into more detail about it later on, that night saw the beginning of a madness that afflicted my mind throughout all of my future walkabouts…and it still does so today.

An American Vandal Abroad

My Parisian walkabout began at Charles de Gaulle Airport, which is named after the charming and ever so loveable President of the Fifth Republic, who once asked: How can you govern a country which has 246 kinds of cheese? After passing through customs and collecting my bags, I caught a train into Gare du Nord and then hailed a taxi to deliver me to the Normandy Hotel, which is located in the Tuileries Quarter near the Musee du Louvre. Opened in 1877, the Normandy is an elegant old hotel built in the Belle Epoque style—whatever the hell that means—and it’s the place where Mark always stays when visiting Paris.

Before moving on with this walkabout, I should note for the benefit of the reader who’s never been to Paris that the city is divided into several quarters, which of course should indicate that the city enjoys four such neighborhoods. Unfortunately, the French, not being terribly fluent in fractions, nor in English for that matter, have identified upwards of a half dozen quarters in their beloved city. However, when in Paris one should never quibble over fractious details, not if one hopes to stay on the polite side of those easily enraged people.

I learned that particular travel lesson after questioning a few Parisians on the matter of their quarters, and after suffering an onslaught of verbal abuse and social derision. Apparently, Paris is actually divided into twenty arrondissements, otherwise known as neighborhoods for those not fluent in the French tongue. And every Parisian child is taught this important fact at quite an early age, as well as all the other propositions from Rene Descartes’ Rules for the Direction of the Mind.

Rule I: The end of study should be to direct the mind towards the enunciation of sound and correct judgement on all matters that come before it.

Rule II: Only those objects should engage our attention, to the sure and indubitable knowledge of which our mental powers seem to be adequate.

Rule III: In the subjects we propose to investigate, our inquiries should be directed, not to what others have thought, nor to what we ourselves conjecture, but to what we can clearly and perspicuously behold and with certainty deduce; for knowledge is not won in any other way.

Rule IV: There is need of a method for finding out the truth.

↓

Rule XXII: When we direct our mental faculties to consider the object known as Paris, it is correct to conjecture that each quarter in the city is an arrondissement, and it is equally correct to deduce with certainty that each arrondissement is not necessarily a quarter.

Fortunately for the tourist, Rene also offered a few other thoughts on getting around Paris, in particular his belief that a traveler can rationally comprehend the city because it is ordered rationally. Thus, the science of mapmaking can create a rational representation of arrondissements, some of which are quarters. Of course as sensible as this proposition appears at first glance, in Paris there’s always another French philosopher just around the corner with an opposing point of view.

For Rene that opposing point of view came from Blaise Pascal, who was a philosopher and scientist that believed that since the universe is infinitely large, consciousness and reason cannot fully comprehend the universe. Therefore, since Paris is a part of the universe, any attempt to develop a rational representation of arrondissements and quarters for the city is inevitably doomed to failure.

Understandably, the reader not well-versed in philosophical discourse and rational conjecture might claim that since numerous maps of Paris are readily available in any travel shop, then Blaise must surely be incorrect on the matter of arrondissements and quarters in the city. Then again, any traveler who has attempted to comprehend a map of Paris will lamentably admit that a reasonable understanding of the city, one that’s based on a rational representation such as a map, is unfortunately fated to failure.

To conclude this rather esoteric aside, perhaps it’s of value to always remain mindful of what Blaise said concerning the Parisians: All the unhappiness of the men of Paris derives from one thing, that they cannot sit quietly in their own arrondissement and ponder on their quarters. Of course that scholar also said in his Pensees: Men are so necessarily mad, that not to be mad would amount to another form of madness. And perhaps now the reader can fully appreciate the plight of the average Parisian tourist, who while on holiday must ceaselessly face the task of navigating the labyrinth of philosophies that forever befuddle the metropolitan minds of this most philosophical of cities.

Now, back to my Parisian walkabout. After checking into my room I cleaned up a bit and then enjoyed a slight kip, if only to ponder on the vicissitudes of determining whether or not this or that arrondissement is a quarter. I then received a call from Mark telling me that he was downstairs in the hotel bar and awaiting my arrival for Happy Hour, which in France is known as Heure Heureux. On my arrival in the bar, I was completely and pleasantly surprised to find Dr. Nussbaum at the table with Mark. They’d already ordered me a biere francaise, which is the most common of the French lager or blonde styles, though my second biere was a brune or what English-speaking folks call ale. And for the next hour or so my travel companions and I caught up on old times, which always offers a pleasant retrieval of memories that re-strengthen the bonds of friendship that may have become loosened during the intervening years.

With a few cold and frothy ones now a part of history, Dr. Nussbaum went upstairs to his room after saying that he needed a short kip before dinner. This didn’t surprise me at all, for the moment that I set eyes upon my old travel companion that afternoon I noticed that he’d aged many years, and that he seemed almost a part of history, not a part of contemporary. But since I didn’t fully appreciate the seriousness of his condition until a few days later, during the remainder of Heure Heureux I happily turned my attention to what my oldest travel companion had to say about his first walkabout through Europe.

Unfortunately, Mark began, "I will not be able to join you and the good Doctor tonight for I’m due to present a lecture to a local society of travelers. Iam to speak of the American Vandal this evening, but I wish to say in advance that I do not use this term in derision or apply it as a reproach, but I use it because it is convenient; and duly and properly modified, it best describes the roving, independent, free-and-easy character of that class of traveling Americans who are not elaborately educated, cultivated, and refined, and gilded and filigreed with the ineffable graces of the first society. The best class of our countrymen who go abroad keep us well posted about their doings in foreign lands, but their brethren vandals cannot sing their own praises or publish their adventures."

Mark then spent the next half-hour or so telling me about the American Vandal in the cities of Italy and Greece, after which he concluded his practice lecture. "I leave the Vandal here. In closing these remarks I will observe that I could have said more about the American Vandal abroad, and less about other things, but I found that he had too many disagreeable points about him, and so I thought I would touch him lightly and let him go.

"If there is a moral to this lecture it is an injunction to all Vandals to travel. I am glad the American Vandal goes abroad. It does him good. It makes a better man of him. It rubs out a multitude of his old unworthy biases and prejudices. It aids his religion, for it enlarges his charity and his benevolence, it broadens his views of men and things; it deepens his generosity and his compassion for the failings and shortcomings of his fellow creatures. Contact with men of various nations and many creeds teaches him that there are other people in the world besides his own little clique, and other opinions as worthy of attention and respect as his own. He finds that he and his are not the most momentous matters in the universe.

"Cast into trouble and misfortune in strange lands and being mercifully cared for by those he never saw before, he begins to learn that best lesson of all—that the world is not a cold, harsh, cruel, prison-house, stocked with all manner of selfishness and hate and wickedness. It liberalizes the Vandal to travel. You never saw a bigoted, opinionated, stubborn, narrow-minded, self-conceited, almighty mean man in your life but he had stuck in one place ever since he was born and thought God made the world and dyspepsia and bile for his especial comfort and satisfaction. So I say, by all means let the American Vandal go on traveling, and let no man discourage him."

Now the discerning reader may have noticed that I italicized parts of my last conversation with Mark, this because those very words can be found in his travel lecture, The American Vandal Abroad. And since while on my walkabouts I enjoyed many conversations with Mark, as well as with other literary types, whenever all or parts of a conversation can be found verbatim elsewhere, I’ll mention the source and italicize that part of the talk. Hopefully this literary modus operandi will avoid confusion in the mind of the reader, who probably already suffers enough of that mental aberration upon leaving the pub at the end of Heure Heureux each day.

The Philosophes’ Restaurant

Within a few minutes of finishing his talk, Dr. Nussbaum joined Mark and me in the bar. And after receiving directions to a very special restaurant in St-Ger-main-des-Pres, the good Doctor and I set out for an evening on the town. I suggested to Dr. Nussbaum that perhaps he might prefer to catch a cab to the restaurant, but he said that an evening constitutional before dinner was his normal routine, so we struck out in the direction of The Louvre.

After crossing Rue de Rivoli, we cut through the Jardin de Tuileries to find ourselves along that old and venerable river, the Seine. And as we crossed over Pont Royal, the good Doctor reminded me of the march of history that that river had seen as it forever travels through Paris to the sea. This timeless river has known the noble waters of Louis XIV, the clear waters of the Enlightenment, the bloody waters of the Revolution, and the tumultuous waters of Napoleon. It has also known the rebellious waters of the Second and Third Republics, the deathly waters of the First World War, and the undignified waters of the Occupation and the Second World War. And though the Seine will flow on eternally, she always knows that every few years, or maybe decades, or maybe centuries, a new current will flow along her, forever altering the people and the history of a great nation.