I can relate to your fascination with Bourdain-- ever since I found out about David Foster Wallace, I have consumed everything he ever wrote (plus biographies, interviews, etc.). I think his lifelong grappling with depression and suicide allowed him to be really honest with some of the darker moments and emotions we all experience, and his gift of language allowed him to describe them in utter clarity and stunning lyricism that is in some ways more real than the real thing. It sticks with you.
And his perspective on the world I find endlessly interesting: "You didn’t slip into the books looking for story, information, but for a particular experience: The sensation, for a certain number of pages, of being David Foster Wallace."
I have never watched much of Bourdain's shows, but I have seen enough clips to know that it's something I'd like to do at some point. I definitely related to the quote about the traveler vs. the tourist. I've moved about 23 times in the last 13 years since I left my parents' home at age 18. I just moved again this week, and my previous home I lived in for 15 months, which is the longest I've lived anywhere since then. I've also traveled to many of the states and many countries.
So I think I could learn a lot from Bourdain's travels and the media the recount them, if nothing else than to see all the places he went, and the people he talked to, and the things he did. The traveler in me is jealous and curious to experience those things that I'll never get to do personally. But also I think I'd enjoy his media because it would allow me to get to know the man himself, as it seems you have.
I can also relate to your experience of corporate monotony, and the desire for more "real" experiences. I felt my soul rotting in those environments, and all the moves and all the job changes have been an attempt to find my own "real" life. However, I think I have tended to plunge more into activities and fiction (such as wrestling, or backpacking, or salsa dancing, or reading literature, or playing video games) as a way of finding those, rather than your (or Bourdain's) approach of wandering around the environment, exploring unexplored places, and talking to the people there. Although I'm getting better at slowing down and meeting the people around me. Plus my old friends (like you!).
It seems like the main impact of his media was the ability to shed light on things that were unknown or underrepresented, waking us up to the other parts of reality that we conveniently ignore. I like that he was able to weave entertainment (things like eating and traveling) into journalism of the dire social issues around them. I think ultimately that's the point of any storytelling-- not just to entertain, but to educate, to motivate, to enlighten.
I think we could all learn a lot from his person:
1) That we all deal with some level of depression at some point in our lives. And that we aren't alone either-- that those around us are probably also hurting, and we can do something to alleviate that by reaching out and connecting.
2) That the world is full of surprises and unexplored corners. Some of them are painful, some of them are delightful, but they are all meaningful and worth visiting.
3) That the obligation we have before us is challenging, but also necessary. We all need to move. We all need to get out and meet our neighbors, both local and international. That there are problems that need to be illuminated, and that we can do something about them. That still, there will be darkness and deception, no matter how we try to be authentic or find authenticity. But that it's ok.
I think this last point is only going to be harder with the ever compelling nature of the electronic entertainment around us. It's more immersive, it's more variegated, it's more ubiquitous. We gotta get out of our homes and into the world. Even if it means leaving behind eye-opening documentaries like Bourdain's or Planet Earth or what have you.
Thanks so much for taking the time to share all your reflections. It seems like you did a lot of homework, and the essay surely took a lot of time and effort and introspection.
Thanks for the kind remarks! I absolutely agree that it feels hard to make meaningful connections with strangers in the real world especially now that our interactions are so frequently mediated by tech company platforms. It's almost like they've displaced the legitimacy of in-person interactions, especially with people outside our "networks." Maybe that's why I cherish even the smallest spontaneous interactions I have with strangers.
Just the other night Katie and I were meeting friends for dinner at Guelaguetza (this great Oaxacan restaurant in Koreatown) and decided to grab an appetizer and a mezcal flight at the bar. A couple next to us (who we later learned were regulars) struck up a little conversation with us about what we'd ordered. A few minutes later they bought us two shots of their favorite mezcal on the house. I don't know how to explain their generosity other than that they thought we were being good, friendly guests.
It's sort of a cliché (i.e. "when in Rome") but I really do think people feel it when you're being open to an unusual situation, and often respond to that openness in a really charitable way. Anyway, add it to the list of Bourdain-esque experiences of LA. Thanks for giving me an opportunity to reflect on this a little more through that Wallace-ian (sp?) lens :)
Incredible essay.
I can relate to your fascination with Bourdain-- ever since I found out about David Foster Wallace, I have consumed everything he ever wrote (plus biographies, interviews, etc.). I think his lifelong grappling with depression and suicide allowed him to be really honest with some of the darker moments and emotions we all experience, and his gift of language allowed him to describe them in utter clarity and stunning lyricism that is in some ways more real than the real thing. It sticks with you.
And his perspective on the world I find endlessly interesting: "You didn’t slip into the books looking for story, information, but for a particular experience: The sensation, for a certain number of pages, of being David Foster Wallace."
I have never watched much of Bourdain's shows, but I have seen enough clips to know that it's something I'd like to do at some point. I definitely related to the quote about the traveler vs. the tourist. I've moved about 23 times in the last 13 years since I left my parents' home at age 18. I just moved again this week, and my previous home I lived in for 15 months, which is the longest I've lived anywhere since then. I've also traveled to many of the states and many countries.
So I think I could learn a lot from Bourdain's travels and the media the recount them, if nothing else than to see all the places he went, and the people he talked to, and the things he did. The traveler in me is jealous and curious to experience those things that I'll never get to do personally. But also I think I'd enjoy his media because it would allow me to get to know the man himself, as it seems you have.
I can also relate to your experience of corporate monotony, and the desire for more "real" experiences. I felt my soul rotting in those environments, and all the moves and all the job changes have been an attempt to find my own "real" life. However, I think I have tended to plunge more into activities and fiction (such as wrestling, or backpacking, or salsa dancing, or reading literature, or playing video games) as a way of finding those, rather than your (or Bourdain's) approach of wandering around the environment, exploring unexplored places, and talking to the people there. Although I'm getting better at slowing down and meeting the people around me. Plus my old friends (like you!).
It seems like the main impact of his media was the ability to shed light on things that were unknown or underrepresented, waking us up to the other parts of reality that we conveniently ignore. I like that he was able to weave entertainment (things like eating and traveling) into journalism of the dire social issues around them. I think ultimately that's the point of any storytelling-- not just to entertain, but to educate, to motivate, to enlighten.
I think we could all learn a lot from his person:
1) That we all deal with some level of depression at some point in our lives. And that we aren't alone either-- that those around us are probably also hurting, and we can do something to alleviate that by reaching out and connecting.
2) That the world is full of surprises and unexplored corners. Some of them are painful, some of them are delightful, but they are all meaningful and worth visiting.
3) That the obligation we have before us is challenging, but also necessary. We all need to move. We all need to get out and meet our neighbors, both local and international. That there are problems that need to be illuminated, and that we can do something about them. That still, there will be darkness and deception, no matter how we try to be authentic or find authenticity. But that it's ok.
I think this last point is only going to be harder with the ever compelling nature of the electronic entertainment around us. It's more immersive, it's more variegated, it's more ubiquitous. We gotta get out of our homes and into the world. Even if it means leaving behind eye-opening documentaries like Bourdain's or Planet Earth or what have you.
Thanks so much for taking the time to share all your reflections. It seems like you did a lot of homework, and the essay surely took a lot of time and effort and introspection.
Thanks for the kind remarks! I absolutely agree that it feels hard to make meaningful connections with strangers in the real world especially now that our interactions are so frequently mediated by tech company platforms. It's almost like they've displaced the legitimacy of in-person interactions, especially with people outside our "networks." Maybe that's why I cherish even the smallest spontaneous interactions I have with strangers.
Just the other night Katie and I were meeting friends for dinner at Guelaguetza (this great Oaxacan restaurant in Koreatown) and decided to grab an appetizer and a mezcal flight at the bar. A couple next to us (who we later learned were regulars) struck up a little conversation with us about what we'd ordered. A few minutes later they bought us two shots of their favorite mezcal on the house. I don't know how to explain their generosity other than that they thought we were being good, friendly guests.
It's sort of a cliché (i.e. "when in Rome") but I really do think people feel it when you're being open to an unusual situation, and often respond to that openness in a really charitable way. Anyway, add it to the list of Bourdain-esque experiences of LA. Thanks for giving me an opportunity to reflect on this a little more through that Wallace-ian (sp?) lens :)