Travel Writing on Kingdoms

Writing about a trip to Egypt can feel like writing about a trip to Disney World. The ground is well-traveled, the experience is set to industrial standards, and the space is crowded by tourists spoiling in the sun.

With these similarities in mind, I look for distinctions.

Leaving out the obvious—an ancient society vs a modern playground—age might be the most distinguishing characteristic separating the two. In Egypt, docile elders and academics shuffle among once-buried tombs and temples. At Disney World, young parents shepherd children on leashes from the monorail to the Magic Kingdom.

Reading companions for those visiting Egypt’s Upper and Lower Nile might include everyone from Herodotus to Naguib Mahfouz, consulting Gustav Flaubert and Mark Twain or Florence Nightingale and Sophia Poole along the way. Travelers to Disney World ought to skim a brochure, visit a few websites, then seek real-time advice on skipping lines and finding lunch.

Translation is available for the international masses crowding both places, but Egypt’s ancient curses conspire with ancient tongues to create an atmosphere of mystery and intrigue. The big puzzle in Disney—the allure of a giant rodent in red trousers—becomes mundane in the face of eating breakfast with him and a coterie of princesses.

In Cairo, visitors tour the Museum of Egyptian Antiquities for a glimpse of thrones and mummy masks and the busts of pharaohs. In Orlando’s gift shops, the likeness of fairy tale characters and super heroes adorn tee shirts, refrigerator magnets, and coffee mugs.

The ground game in Egypt is relatively inexpensive, falafel and flat bread for a handful of piasters; in Disney, you might starve without a second mortgage.

In resurrecting my 2004 travels in Egypt after a family vacation to Florida last spring, I concluded that all travel writing is essentially the same. The essence shifts away from plot and in favor of setting. Even adventure travelers, working themselves into trouble and back out again, are valued more for the art of rendering place than for presenting us with their itinerary.

Whether navigating new languages and customs in lands exotic and remote, or standing in line with family somewhere close to home, every traveler brings a distinct perspective to the place they find themselves.

This is the wonder of writing about travel, an interior monologue responding to an environment beyond one’s living room.

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