It is unwise to put the world on hold for too long, because the gifts of travel are precisely what we need in daunting times like these.

This month's issue of Recce celebrates the wide wonders of the world, with stories set in Turkey and Peru, an interview that ranges from London to Cairo, and a portfolio of soulful photographs — like Becca Glatz's soaring shot of Annapurna South on our homepage — that span the globe. This celebration seems especially poignant and urgent to me now, when roiling economic seas have impelled people to batten down their dreams. 

 

It is always prudent to take stock of one's world, financial and political, near and far. And in these unsettled times, it may indeed seem wisest to put travel plans on hold. But it is unwise to put the world on hold for too long, because the gifts of travel are precisely what we need in daunting times like these. In a quarter-century of world-wandering, I've come to think of these gifts as the three C's: context, creation and connection.

 

Travel gives us a wider context to understand and appreciate our everyday realities. In the same way that flying offers a new perspective on territory hitherto seen only from the ground, a travel-induced change of pace and place provides a different angle and a broader viewpoint on our daily lives, so that we see problems and potentials more fully and more clearly. Not only is it mind-freshening to be lifted out of our environment, it is also illuminating and often inspiring to see firsthand how people in other places navigate the challenges of everyday life, the pleasures they take in humble things, and the treasures, natural and manmade, that grace their countries and cultures.

 

These manmade treasures are the kinds of creations that can refresh and re-energize our hearts and minds. Whether it is a rock garden in Kyoto, a cathedral in Paris, an Aboriginal rock painting in the Outback or an ironwood-carved dolphin in Baja, encountering the infinite manifestations of man's creative urge is at once humbling and elevating; it instills a sense of awe at our questing spirit, and it forges a sense of connection that spans time, culture and place.

 

That connection is the third gift of travel. Travel connects us to the people we meet, the landscapes we absorb, the dramas of duty, despair and dream that play out on thousands of stages across the globe every day. On the road, we discover that we are not alone, that in fact we share the most elemental and sacred concerns with our fellow humans all around the world. We are all in this together.

 

This connection bestows some immediate benefits: The money that travelers dispense in local economies can be critical to the preservation and perpetuation of those places; the succor and sense of connection they bring to isolated communities can open a vital lifeline; the clinics, cooperatives and schools that impassioned visitors support can literally and figuratively save lives.

 

Embracing and transcending all these, travel ultimately offers us hope, an incentive to work together, and a broader vision of how we might all — how we must all — share in the solution of our problems. In and of itself, travel doesn't really solve anything. But it builds bridges that lead to solutions. If as one race, one human race, we are going to span the crevasses of inequality and conflict that divide us, we need to build these bridges. And we need to start by getting out and gathering the sturdiest materials: context, creation and connection.