My wife and I spent a few days in the Cotswolds recently, experiencing first-hand the amazing hiking of the region. The English tradition of free passage translates practically into an extensive network of well-marked paths across both public and private spaces. From an architectural and zoning perspective, the Cotswolds are frozen in time and the results are stunningly, picturesque visions of quintessential England. We did a hike between Chipping Campden and Broadway and, as is our habit, I visited the local bookstores while my wife browsed antiques. Later, I ended up in a pub with a couple books and a pint of cider.

After reading a few pages of Hercule Poirot condescend to the Watson-like Hastings, I opened my phone and started reading across a few of my subscriptions. One particular piece in a very respected publication breathlessly explained the revolution happening in A.I. The piece was written in an anxious manner, with nervous anecdotes and concerned tech-bro interviews. It was also fairly myopic, providing little in terms of dissenting views or counter-arguments to the point being made (which I think was that everyone might be about to lose their jobs to A.I., but that's just our manifest destiny at this point). If the goal was to engage me emotionally, mission accomplished on multiple levels. I felt angry, annoyed, and fearful.  

Suddenly some loud conversation at the bar caught my attention. I looked up and saw what appeared to be several locals engaged with the bartenders. They were laughing and telling stories, each holding a pint of beer or cider. As I gazed at the merry group, it suddenly struck me, something I knew but hadn't quite fully experienced: what I was reading wasn't real life. Or rather, it wasn't the most real form of life available to me. Looking at a video of the ocean is absolutely nothing like standing on a beach with the ocean overwhelmingly filling your eyes, ears, and nose with its incredible magnificence. Getting a sense of the well-being of the world from hype-infected journalists is no way to judge my own well-being or future. 

Rick Steves, the renowned travel guide, recently spoke with Lulu Garcia-Navarro of The Interview. I highly recommend watching the interview in full here, but one of the more salient points Steves makes is that he tries to be "engaged" over being happy. One of his underlying philosophies is that travel changes us because it makes us aware of the world in often uncomfortable, but deeply fulfilling, ways. Near the end of the interview, he speaks of traveling to less conventional countries such as Iran and engaging with the local people. This, Steves says, helped both parties overcome the "propaganda" messaging from third parties. We look at others, see them with our own eyes, and better understand. 

The world certainly has many terrible, uncertain things in it. However, it also has so many incredible vistas and interesting people that it would be a genuine shame to experience it primarily through a proxy of fearful essays and social media posts. This framed the rest of that trip. That particular pub was more than 400 years old. Friends had been laughing over beer in that establishment for almost twice as long as the age of my own nation. I had just hiked through some of the most beautiful landscapes on earth, complete with ancient walls, wheat fields, and fluffy sheep. Seeing these things first hand has a powerful, clarifying effect on the soul during these chaotic times.