The Grumps don't win

The Venetians built a church specially-designed for Vivaldi. A pair of 14 year old twins can increase my hope for the future. And the reason cows wear bells is because their horns don’t work. Three of the many things I learned during this year of guiding tours of Europe for Rick Steves.

Not Vivaldi's church. This one's in Paris.

When I look back at the year I feel an overarching gratitude and admiration for the people I got to meet and share a trip with. The feeling glows and warms. And then snags. Because this year had something else too. For the first time in my (admittedly less-than-ancient) guide career, I had a tour member who...I don’t even know how to say it. I would not want them on another of my tours.

Rick Steves offers a tour experience far above the sort of shambling boredom I see on other buses and in clusters of clueless curmudgeons blocking the sidewalks and galleries of Europe. Largely, we just draw a fantastic clientele (thank you, PBS!) but part of the magic is our “No Grumps Policy.” The logic of it always made sense to me; negativity is contagious, and if someone’s not happy, they don’t need to be there bringing everyone else down.

In the Forum you can focus on the sun, or that you're standing in history. Your choice.

But it wasn’t until this year that I witnessed how subtle it can be. No overt tirades, nothing tangible enough to justify removal from the group, but as time went by nothing was ever good enough or worth appreciating, and I never once saw a smile. Several local guides recognized it immediately, but I just chalked it up to botox. But when the evaluations came in, I realized it was much worse than that. People who I know had a fantastic time were complaining about the size of the showers etc. It feels clear to me that if this person hadn’t been in there radiating negativity, those people would have brought home another positive memory instead of gripes about shower stalls.

Negative energy is problematically powerful. I sat with the person for one meal and was considering quitting my job by the time dessert came. At the very least, I was ready to sign off the tour as a loss.

Sure the view, whatever. Ugh, do there have to be so many people?

Then something happened. Perhaps inevitable and undoubtedly wonderful. I talked to other tour members. And was restored. I remember one lady in particular that night, enjoying the unexpected fireworks display the town put on, taking unmitigated pleasure in the light and sound and moment shared with the small beach community. The words are forgotten but I remember the healing power in hearing how much fun she was having, what the tour meant to her, and how grateful she was to be on it. I walked away from that chat ready to sign up for 100 tours on the spot.

It's all about how you....frame it.

Her positivity is reflected in the hundreds of tour members I’ve had, with just the one who bummed me out. That’s magnificent. And beyond that, it’s important. Because in a moment where the worst of us is degrading the Oval Office and contaminating the headlines, it’s good to remember that the vast majority of us are beautiful people. I can expand out to all the innumerable niches of Europe, rock climbing walls of San Francisco, classrooms of the IRC, streets of New Delhi and prayer-soaked hallways of Dharamshala, I can expand to embrace all the environments and moments I found this year and in the cast of thousands I see an incredible panoply of human goodness.

So, though the grumps are out there, the lovers and delighters outnumber them by a degree of magnitude that gives me hope. And I didn’t even tell you about the twins. Humanity is beautiful. And I can’t wait to go back to work.

I think that guy's going to need his own post...

A gift from a fellow traveler

It was another vacation weekend. Sitting on the beach with two of my favorite people, my telephone far away, unchecked, the madness of the modern moment unimportant before the relentless majesty of an ocean.

Then back to this side of reality, the profanities of each day’s presidential manipulations and depredations. Trump standing in front of a Boeing 787 Dreamliner, “This plane, as you know, was built right here in the great state of South Carolina. Our goal as a nation must be to rely on less imports and more products made here in the USA.”

Because it doesn’t matter to him that the fuselage comes from Italy. The wings from Japan. Passenger doors from France. That Boeing would suffer bigly under his backward agenda of tariffs and isolationism. He doesn’t understand or care that modern reality is not one of warring city-states but of progress through cooperation. The sad shriveled soul of an insecure narcissist cannot fathom cooperation or trust. They are not in his nature, and I pity the human in him.

But in the meantime he’s trashing the rest of us. And my mind wants to go back and hide on that beach...watching the waves...eating that sandwich...hearing the laughter and words of loved ones…

But what’s going on matters. And it’s bleak, in reality and in the headlines. So it was all the more precious to get an email from a former tour member:

Paris is picnics on the Seine.
Whether you're wearing a hijab or not.

“I thought of you today when I read about Trump’s bashing of Paris. I want you to know that the Paris you showed (my husband), me, and the rest of our wonderful group was one of the most beautiful experiences of my life...the amazing sites, the rich history, the art, the kindness of the people and well, of course, the food and wine. While Trump’s distortion of reality makes me feel quite hopeless at times, I know first-hand that his ‘alternate reality’ is dead wrong--thanks to you.”

And suddenly the sun feels warmer, my heart feels lighter, and I feel connected with the real human spirit, which is welcoming, encompassing, and kind. Which seeks to understand and support, not belittle and blame. Which is exactly the understanding we seek to foster on Rick Steves tours. It's immensely gratifying to know I succeeded at least once.

85% of those Dreamliners are sold overseas, and each one can carry about 300 people like my tour members towards greater understanding of each other, community with each other, peace with ourselves.

It’s still important to take short breaks from the dire headlines. But even more important to remember that they are not the full story.

Change of plans

The suspense is over. Trump’s vision of intolerance, division, and suspicion without understanding has won this battle. That’s what I see on the official form stating that I, as a US citizen, have not been granted a visa to visit the Islamic Republic of Iran.

It sucks. I was supposed to leave this Saturday. Think they’ll refund my flights?

The richness and beauty of Iran are plenty of reason to go, but that was just the beginning. To give a little business to my Turkish friends whose livelihood has been annihilated by world events was also a good reason. But most of all, can you imagine a more important time to travel than right now?

Right now, when our petulant toddler tyrant is stomping around the White House and the headlines doing daily damage to peace, hope, and the fabric of international society. Right now, when extremists on their fringes want us to mistrust and misunderstand each other. When the continued barrage of sinister manipulation relies on us not knowing better than to trust their insults and depredations. Can you imagine a more important time to go see the reality of our shared human nature?

Now is a very good time to go to Iran. Now is an essential time to go to Iran. But now is, apparently, an impossible time to go to Iran. And it’s breaking my heart.

Trump issued his anti-human, make America sinister again executive order, and Iran reciprocated. I can’t really blame them. A number of countries follow the quid pro quo principle, identical visa fees & restrictions etc. These countries are the most exorbitant and arduous to enter, that many of us tend to avoid. Makes sense, but sucks anyway. Barriers to mutual human comprehension and affection.

It’s rainy, I feel a little sick, and the forces of intolerance seem to be winning the future right now. Terribly tempting to get back in bed and hibernate until joy comes back or we sink into the sea.

Except I love the rain. Always have. Since childhood, running out to sit in the car to hear it better. And that subtle disturbance in the back of my throat isn’t a cold, it’s my body processing the last of the libations and inhalations of a Portland celebration. Manifest joy. And the pinch-mouthed forces that want to divide us? The Trumps and Islamophobes? Are they winning?

Yes. The battle. Because we let them make it a battle. But that’s inaccurate. Human society is not a battle. Human society is growth. It’s a plant, not a weed-whacker. Abundance, not violence. Progression, not transgression. The human character is built of love and kindness, it takes trauma to twist it away from that. And Trump is definitely trauma.

Unfortunately, damage is cyclical, hereditary, and easy. Easy as a stamp on a piece of paper. So I’m not going to Iran next week. But this is more important than my travel plans. This is the world we want to live in, aggressive or progressive, our choice.  So I’m going to stay here, nurture my kindness in the face of presidential bitterness, and wait until I can go. I will go to Iran. When reason returns. I’m looking forward to it already.