Betsy Devine: Funny ha-ha and/or funny peculiar

Does travel broaden the mind?

Or does it just expand other bits of you, during the timeless flow of meals in restaurants?

I like the way travel shakes up my preconceptions–the smalltown illusion that my country, my town, my neighborhood, and my Mom do things just the right way and those who do otherwise are stupid, barbaric, lazy, or just plain rude.

It’s easy to spot someone else’s intolerance–like the English acquaintance who sneers at American overuse of salt as she pours a teaspoon of sugar on her tomato.

Wandering through the streets of Geneva, I wonder how the world looks through local eyes. How does it change the boss-employee relationship when you greet each other with good-morning kisses? How does it affect the day of a sales clerk when a polite greeting and a cheerful farewell form part of each transaction?  What must it be like to live in a small city where clean, fast, reliable trams run every seven minutes and nobody ‘needs’ a car to get to work?

I like the way travel disrupts my usual habits by making hard things easy and easy things hard. Somebody else cooks my meals and washes my sheets–but figuring out how to get from A to B can take half an hour.

Time I might spend at home on chores gets spent in museums or reading guide books, a perspective that takes in centuries of time, and looks at the world with a focus that doesn’t center on any of my normal preoccupations. For example, the most important part of World War II is the activity of Charles DeGaulle–when you look at the war from a Parisian perspective.

I don’t want to shed my own skin and wear someone else’s. I think my own country, my hometown, and my Mom have many virtues as well as some limitations. And I’ll be glad to get home, hopefully not too broadened by French sauces and Swiss cheeses…