WHERE : Ölüdeniz, Istanbul WHEN : October 2012 OBJECTIVE : Paragliding the Mediterranean, wandering Constantinople DISTANCE : NA CLASSIFICATION : Wings, Walks
If you are reading this, you are either a very dear, very old friend upon whom I have imposed—well beyond what is tasteful or acceptable in polite society—to assist me in proof-reading and editing this website…
… you have arrived here from ports unknown, imagination rapt in told tales and captured images. (Hey, a guy can dream, can’t he?) Perhaps you are trying to decide where you’re going to book your life-changing trip, and thought you might find a wise word or two to push you over the edge.
Whatever brought you here, you have landed just a jinth—a wee tad, an iota, a smidgen—beyond the map’s edge. Meaning I haven’t quite gotten here yet. I am writing these travelogue introductions in reverse chronological order based on journal entries, memory, and probably an imagined detail or two. And I simply haven’t retreated this far into my own sordid past.
It seemed easy enough ten days ago. I thought: how long can this take? A short paragraph by way of introduction, and let the existing content do the rest of the legwork. “HAHAHAHA!” sez my OCD–screaming, gasping for air between peels of uncontrolled, mocking laughter. In place of a short paragraph, a string of 500-word essays springs forth from criminally compulsive fingers. Whole days are lost, god knows where, never to be seen again, nor remembered.
So here we are. Many deadlines have come and gone, and this website is begging to see the light of day. My efforts will out, and my other efforts will just have to wait a bit. Who knew that the Transglobalist was a ship’s captain, in command of Neurath’s Boat? Or was that the Ship of Theseus? And, well, who gives a damn?
Much Love (and Carpal Tunnel, too),
October 24, 2016
‘we are like sailors who on the open sea must reconstruct their ship but are never able to start afresh from the bottom…’
–some guy named Neurath
Having just quit my job, officially, my first act as a free man was to travel to Turkey, for the infamous, annual Oludeniz Air Games. On the Mediterranean southern coast, the Air Games are a must-visit event for acro pilots of all skill levels. My hotel was about 50 meters from the landing spot on this pristine beach. All day long, the same cycle: catch a van to the top of Babadag–2000 meters above sea level; launch; fly out over the water and go for it; land on beach; pack; repeat.
From obscene Dallas, Texas traffic, to this. As I’ve said many, many times since: no matter what happens next, or how this ends up, I win. 🙂