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A tip to all the Captain Ahabs out there:
“Be careful when hiring young men with dreamy faces, thin bodies, and deep eyes; be very careful, for whales must be spotted before they are hunted. A boy fond of meditations will take your ship around the world ten times without seeing a single whale.”
From Moby Dick
Ishmael is warning to anybody hiring crew for a whaling ship: be careful with the thin, hollow eyed, dreamy looking young men, because a whale has to be sighted before it can be hunted, and a boy inclined to meditation will take your ship ten times around the world without ever spotting one.
I am still breathing, which feels like decent breaking news. Chris McCandless is not. That detail hit me only a few months ago, even though he checked out over a decade back. His ride is chronicled in Jon Krakauer’s book and Sean Penn’s film Into the Wild. No spoilers here. Chris dies in the prologue too.
I ran into the story while my head was already juggling big feelings. Folks love to label the guy without reading the footnotes. Online you will find every take from heroic dream‑chaser to flaky drifter with a loose screw. I am still standing in the aisle of that legendary bus, watching both camps argue, not sure which seat fits.
Chris tossed the coin. Heads gave him epiphanies, tails bit him hard. Smart dude, well read, still human. He reached a few conclusions, just not the ones he planned, and by then his clock had stopped.
The catch in his dream was nonnegotiable. No modern crutches. Family, car, IDs, cash, even his birth name, all gone. Hard to call that right or wrong until you see where the breadcrumb trail ends. For him it was simply part of the blueprint.
Someone accused me of being obsessed with “wild” lately. Guilty. I ranted about it in another piece over here. Evolution breeds some odd backslides. People pretend they get themselves.
So is wandering into unknown terrain with duct‑tape gear and half‑baked prep just a loud way to sign your exit papers? Maybe. Same odds as chain‑smoking, binge‑drinking, or commuting by bike in Brazil.
Humans need rulebooks to keep from nuking the joint. Do not smoke. Do not drive drunk. Do not do drugs. Do not lie. Do not kill. Do not off yourself. We still rip the warning labels off, bend the jail bars, pitch the rulebook out the window, occasionally launch a toddler after it. Funny how we never jump ourselves.
Chris was that rule‑breaker in high‑definition. He even warned everybody he might not be coming back. He did not. The tale did, though, and that might be the point.
The guy questioned the script most people follow. Maybe he aimed to change the world, but “world” here was personal, bite‑sized. Everything and everyone inside his bubble. He just misjudged how much a single decision can rewrite that bubble.
Nobody in his circle fully backed the plan. Makes sense. They wanted a cameo in his future and he was busy slashing pages from the script.
This was originally published on my old blog BackpackBook (Livro de Mochila), a project that blended literature and travel, sometimes just traveling in my lucid dreams.
The Art of Travel is basically the original backpacker’s book, maybe even the reason this project ever existed. New stories and places spark new ideas, simple as that.
I still haven’t found the perfect words to describe certain emotions, maybe because I’m afraid of saying more than what’s already written on the book’s dust jacket. So, let’s switch gears for a moment before I let the book jacket do its thing. Don’t worry, I won’t make a habit of this.
I stumbled upon this book at a time when traveling was starting to lose its magic. I had that false sense of expertise, like a new driver who hits 100 km/h for the first time and suddenly thinks he’s a Formula 1 pro. I figured past experiences were enough to make me a seasoned traveler, and just like that, trips started feeling more stressful than exciting.
It took me a while to realize what was off. The first trips were so much more fun, but I was too busy micromanaging logistics, safety, time, costs, all that “practical” stuff, to see what was right in front of me. I had lost sight of what makes traveling special, the people, the cultures, the landscapes, the unexpected moments.
Before I crashed completely, I found Alain de Botton’s The Art of Travel, lying next to me on the grass at UFSC, the university I never got into but still ended up living next to, more on that later. Like most self-help books, it didn’t exactly tell me anything new, but it reminded me of things I had forgotten. And sometimes, that’s exactly what we need.
(Quick aside, back when I was applying to universities, those grassy areas at UFSC were my main motivation for getting in. Spoiler alert, I didn’t. But hey, I still get to enjoy the lawns, just on a slightly delayed student timeline.)
At times, the book gets lost in its own philosophical rabbit holes, but for the most part, it nails the Livro de Mochila ethos. It helped me understand why my trips weren’t hitting the same anymore and taught me to pay more attention to the little joys along the way.
“People rarely notice details. De Botton laments the blindness and rush of modern tourists, especially those bragging about covering all of Europe in a week by train. No amount of moving from place to place at 100 km/h will make us stronger, happier or wiser.”
The Art of Travel, Alain de Botton
So, if you do find yourself lost on a trip, don’t panic. Some of the best travel moments come from getting lost.
I could go on, but I don’t want to keep you from planning your next vacation. I’ll let the book jacket take it from here:
Book Jacket Blurb: Few things are as thrilling as the idea of traveling somewhere far away, to a place with a better climate, more interesting customs and scenery that fuels the imagination. So why do we often feel underwhelmed when we actually get there?
In The Art of Travel, Alain de Botton, author of The Consolations of Philosophy, takes us on a journey through the highs and lows of traveling. From airports and exotic rugs to the rush of vacations and the existential crisis that comes with mini-bars, this humorous, insightful book explores the hidden motivations, expectations and disappointments of seeing the world.
To guide us through this, De Botton brings in great thinkers and artists who were inspired by travel in all its forms, Flaubert, Edward Hopper, Baudelaire, Wordsworth, Van Gogh, Ruskin. They’re all here, ready to share their thoughts.
Forget those travel guides that just tell you what to do. The Art of Travel is more interested in the why, why we crave new places, why we’re often disappointed and how we can actually enjoy the ride.
“The joy we get from travel might have less to do with the destination itself and more with the mindset we bring. Openness could be considered its key ingredient. We approach new places with humility…”
The Art of Travel, Alain de Botton
Traveling with a Book in Your Backpack
De Botton would love to tag along with you and The Art of Travel:
Wherever you take it, one thing is guaranteed, you’ll come back with a heavier suitcase.
This was originally published on my old blog BackpackBook (Livro de Mochila), a project that blended literature and travel, sometimes just traveling in my lucid dreams.
The Livro de Mochila (Backpack Book) project had been on my mind for a while, a way to share good books and great travels, but it only became real when time started feeling scarce and valuable. I didn’t let the opportunity pass me by. I saddled up.
I had to. It’s not every day that you function on a few hours of sleep and somehow still manage to stay up late reading blog setup guides on a makeshift workstation in the kitchen. Temporary setup? Maybe. Maybe not.
It was also a time when my impulse buying was at an all-time high. A lot of good money was spent on books I still haven’t gotten around to reading. Turns out, my ability to buy books is greater than my ability to read them. So, for now, I’m keeping a safe distance from bookstores.
Not that it really matters, but this post is called “Author,” and so far, I haven’t actually said much on the subject.
First, a little clarification. Whenever these posts use “we,” it’s really just me, for now. The idea is to give voice to anyone who agrees with what’s being said, even if that number is currently… limited.
“We call ourselves,” Diego Dotta. Aspiring traveler, recent reader, and someone still navigating a world that’s unknown to many, but excited about how much there is to explore and respect.
I’ll spare you a long-winded introduction. The whole point of this project is to share and encourage friends to embrace the joys of reading and traveling. If we aren’t friends yet, give it time.
Carrying the words of my friend Richard, a specialist in parentheses-travel, Faust in my backpack, I can’t help but notice how little time people have for entertainment these days. Livro de Mochila was built for travelers who are shackled by their schedules, giving them a small taste of freedom, even if the next destination is just another day at the office.
Because in the end, the journey matters more than the destination.
And if this project doesn’t reach its intended goal? That’s fine too. What matters is the ride.
See you out there, in the real world, or the virtual one.