Through Lattice Windows: The Blind Traveller
"As I write this, I am visiting Cape Town, indisputably our country's most popular tourist destination with its magnificent Table Mountain, breathtaking coastline and spectacular city bowl full of lovely historic buildings. However, its attractions are nearly all visual. I find myself spending long periods of time sitting idly while my family exclaim over the sights they can see,'' writes columnist Leanne Hunt, whose vision is severely limited.
I try not to allow resentment or envy to creep in, reminding myself that being unable to sightsee in the normal sense has forced me to look elsewhere for interest and amusement. In the early days of my disability, when I was a teenager, I simply narrowed my focus to the people I was with, enjoying their company. I would gladly go on walks into the forest, trudge up endless flights of stairs to reach a lofty parapet, take a boat out into the ocean or ride the open-topped bus through city streets, because I was with people I liked and because exploring a new location was an adventure.
Later, when I had children, traveling was about introducing them to the world out there, so to speak. I scarcely had time to savour the environment I was in because I was looking out for the girls' safety. My aim was always to give them as much freedom as possible to run around and participate in any activities available to them, all the while making sure they knew what to be careful of and what to do if they got lost. Those were busy years, but incredibly rewarding ones for me as a parent.
Once the girls had grown up and learnt to take care of themselves, my attention shifted back to having a good time myself. Travelling started to be about catching up on all the things I'd missed out on in the child-raising years. I met people who'd backpacked through Asia, visited Ayers Rock in Australia, partaken of ancient shamanic ceremonies in Mexico and sailed through the fjords of Norway. I wanted to do the same thing.
The next group tour that came along I joined. It was a ten-day package tour of Egypt and Israel. It was on that trip that I understood, for the first time, how vastly different my travel needs were from my companions'. Whereas they relished the famous Biblical landmarks and merchandise in the shops, I was captivated by the information being shared by our guide, or, in the case of the Holocaust Museum, hearing the names of deceased children being spoken aloud in a dark tunnel.
What I looked for in a travel experience was stimulation. That stimulation could come in many ways - narrated information and sound clips, tactile experiences such as touching the surface of the western wall in Jerusalem, tasting exotic dishes in a foreign restaurant, or immersing myself in the evocative atmosphere of a perfume factory. As long as there was sufficient stimulation and it wasn't primarily visual, I was more than satisfied.
Lately, however, even that sort of travel has become hard, as getting around in strange surroundings is becoming more and more of a challenge. It is not simply a case of needing someone to guide my steps. It is about the necessity of taking it slow, which means utilising time very inefficiently. I still long for the stimulation but how I get it is becoming the real issue.
Which brings me to the internet. Being online with text-reading software can almost take the place of active travel because it offers a hundred times more information than most guided tours do, and what it fails to deliver in terms of sensory stimulation is made up for by the fact that I feel liberated to go wherever I want to, and for as long as I please. Maybe this sounds strange to a sighted person. Maybe it's hard to imagine replacing an actual visit to the Smithsonian Museum in Washington with a virtual visit on the web. Yet I did visit the Smithsonian and the only thing I remember is the soundtrack of the movie we saw at the I-Max theatre on flight and space exploration. Everything else - the lunar capsule, the engines of jet airplanes and even the layout of the restaurant - are all a blur.
I am aroused, entertained, inspired and amazed by what I hear, not what I see. If information and sound effects can be transmitted to me to the degree of detail I require in the comfort of my own home, I am happy to substitute virtual travel for the real thing.
As long as I have someone to talk about it with afterwards, that is. Sharing an experience or adventure is always more rewarding than keeping it to yourself. That is why I write and correspond and seek to communicate on social networks. When my heart has been set aflame with passion and wonder, I want to pass on the glow.
