Do Philosophers Vacation or Holiday?

I've just returned from taking three weeks off to travel around Western Europe (my wife had a good research gig in Lyon so we took the opportunity to plan a full trip around it) and I decided I ought to post a few thoughts about this before I get back into the swing of introducing my Evolutionary Philosophy. I believe I tend to use my time off a little differently than most people and felt it would be a worthwhile discussion to bring up why that is. Plus, who doesn't love gratuitous travel pics?

As an American living in England, I've become attuned to the different terms we use for time off in these countries: Americans go on "vacation", while Brits take a "holiday." While I was contemplating this post though, I decided I didn't really find either of these terms satisfying. Vacation comes from the root of vacating, as in giving something up, relinquishing a position, annulling a judgment. To me it implies leaving your life for a while, turning your mind off, becoming vacant. That's not what I do. But holiday doesn't capture it either, coming from the root of "holy day," describing a time of godly observance and quiet introspection on the revealed teachings of a religion. That may have applied to a Sunday at home from the field in ancient times, but it doesn't get you very far today when the religions have failed to adapt and the gods have all been explained away or found wanting. I toyed with the term "walkabout" for a while from the Aboriginal custom of taking a journey on foot to live closer to the way of the ancestors. This was initially appealing, but in the end I decided I wasn't only after a glimpse of what the ancestors had done; I was looking for examples of what everyone does. Before I get to the term I finally settled on, I suppose I should say a few words about the reasons I travel.

And take a second to energize you with another beautiful scene.

As a philosopher, I've spent a lot of time over the years on thought experiments, moral evaluations, aesthetic judgments, analyses of bias, and searches for truths. Did I do all this just so I could call myself a "philosopher"? Of course not! I did it because I was searching for happiness in my daily life. Like all of us, I long to spend each day in a thoughtful, purposeful way that adds up to something meaningful over time. To do that, you have to find sustainable habits that bring immediate gratification but build lasting satisfaction as well. After 40 years on Earth, I'm getting better at that, but undoubtedly have work to do yet. (Ask my wife after one of my grumpy tirades or depressive sulks.) Still, this kind of daily life, once perfected, is not one that needs to be vacated. A philosopher doesn't need to go to a beach and turn their brain off so they can get back to the daily grind of burning themselves out.

What I look for when I take a break is more inspiration, more ideas, more examples of what it means to live the good life. To live the best lives we can, we must know how others live their lives, evaluate the options, and cobble together the life that fits us best. We must try it out, practice it, perfect it. And then go find something else to add to the mix. Science taught me to look for data and analyze it. Engineering taught me how to apply theory into practice. Management consulting calls this the study of best practices. In the world of travel, this is called touring. As I groped around for arcane words to describe what it is I do with my time off, I came upon this etymology for the sometimes tarnished act of tourism:

• "the word tour is derived from the Latin, 'tornare' and the Greek, 'tornos', meaning 'a lathe or circle; the movement around a central point or axis'. This meaning changed in modern English to represent 'one's turn'. When the word tour and the suffixes –ism and –ist are combined, they suggest the action of movement around a circle. One can argue that a circle represents a starting point, which ultimately returns back to its beginning. Therefore, like a circle, a tour represents a journey in that it is a round-trip, i.e., the act of leaving and then returning to the original starting point."
  

We all live our lives centered around our daily routines. We all take our turns constructing these lives and returning to our habits again and again. Sometimes, these daily experiences teach us something and we change. Hopefully for the better. Sometimes we read a book, watch a movie, talk to a friend or stranger, and have our lives changed by others' experience. But sometimes we need to break out of our daily routines to have our circles expanded. If our daily lives are truly building towards something that provides lasting satisfaction, any time that we take off from this task is precious. It should be spent wisely and in ways that enhance or inform either our daily lives or the goals we are striving for with those daily lives. Preferably both. This is why philosophers don't go on vacation or take a holiday. Philosophers go on tour. (Though not exactly like rock stars.)

When I go on tour, I want to see how people have spent their days. What do they do for work? Do they spend all day chopping and stacking wood to feel safe about the coming winter in the Alps?

Or did they build castles in Avignon to protect the wealth of their popes? Even though the Stoics taught that all we possess, we carry with us.

I want to see how other people design their homes. Is it in the art nouveau style, exhibited at the School of Nancy museum, that brought nature back to an industrialized class that was losing touch with it?

Or do they use modern minimalism, like Frank Gehry at the Vitra Design Museum, that emphasizes restraint, elegance, simplicity, and openness, but creates surprise in other whimsical ways.

I like to see how people get around their cities. Do they ride solar-powered busses with lots of windows through which they can enjoy a pretty city as they do in Maastricht?

Or do they ride bicycles that are free for 30 minutes, as they are in Lyon, through shady streets and protected bike lanes that leave one calm and energized?

I like to see what artists have captured to inspire and inform their contemporaries. Whether it was a handful of animals 13,000 years ago in the cave paintings in southwest France.

Or the first films taken by the inventors of the motion picture, the Lumiere brothers, who turned down offers of thousands of francs for their invention and instead sent the first film makers all over the world to capture cultural scenes of everyday life, which captivated the people of their day.

I like to see if artists inspired their patrons with grand plays on huge stages as the Romans did in Orange.

Or did they focus on children's minds with slapstick puppets as in Lyon?

I like to see what recreational activities people use to strengthen their bodies and rejuvenate their minds. Whether it be risky but enormously exhilarating paragliding.

Or torturous mountain climbs, like the Col du Tourmalet, ridden by cyclists who have put in hours and hours of fitness training just to gain a better appreciation of the dedication of their athletic heroes.

Or passionately competing with one another with the simplest of tools - a ball and a wall.

I like to see what kind of environment I prefer to live in. Whether the grand boulevards and squares of Bordeaux are too sterile and outsized.

Or do I prefer the cozy streets of Metz, that are pedestrian-sized and filled with congenial outdoor cafes and spaces for a friendly game of boules.

Or maybe I just need to sleep somewhere new to redefine what I really need for a bed, a kitchen, and a living room.

I like to see what people spend their money on. Is it better to use it for the showy wastefulness of gambling it away in a grand casino like they do in Monte Carlo?

Or is it any better to copy the latest fashions from America that have their roots in the glorification of criminals?

Or would we be better off using our resources to put us in touch with the sublime, with the feelings of awe and wonder that come from contemplating the size and age of mountains and the power of snow and ice? Whether that be in the Alps.

Or at the aptly named Point Sublime overlooking the Gorge du Verdon.

Of course, I like to see what people eat to nourish themselves and bring joy to the family and friends they share their meals with. Whether it's sampling one (or several) of the 300+ cheeses of France.

Or appreciating the straightforward marriage of perfected ingredients in a pesto focaccia bread in the Cinque Terra of Italy.

Or wondering at the luxurious decadence that can be poured into a hot chocolate with whipped cream in Bayonne, France.

And of course, as any philosopher can tell you: in vino veritas - in wine is the truth. (And in Belgian beer too, by the way.) Dutifully in search of the truth, I therefore make it a point to sample local wines wherever I go and stock up along the way when customs laws and luggage space allow. Fortunately for this trip, that allowed a lot.

These are just a few of the pictures and places and thoughts I had while spending three weeks on tour. I found time to relax in hot springs, or sit and finish one of the three books I brought with me, or have long slow conversations over dinner with my lovely traveling companion, but those respites served mainly to keep my strength up for the actual touring. And because of that, and many other tours throughout the years that have helped me learn this style of travel, I now return to my work inspired, informed, slightly changed for the better, and anxious to continue my daily life. Next week I'll be back with more results from that.