Globusz^® Publishing 

The higher you climb the farther you see. Everybody knows that. From the airplane, we can see further, . . . if there are no clouds. Unfortunately, they are! To my great disappointment, the European Alps were hidden under a thick blanket of them. Instead, with our mind’s eye we can see even farther, not only in space, but in time as well. And we needn’t raise ourselves at all; we can do it as well sitting down. In this way, my thoughts have arrived now in India of olden days, where the word “Upanishad” means: “stay close by me and think together”. This was the way of that time to teach and comment on the wisdom of Veda. I am surely staying! Despite my sore rear, I have to stay in the narrow armchair of the airplane. As for thinking, I have to think alone, because even the passenger sitting at my right, has fallen asleep, maybe because of my chatter. In such conditions, making notes sounds like a good idea for filling in the time. I am not a novelist and do not want to make literature at any price, so that my intention is only to note my sincere impressions during this trip— which has just begun with a flight from Bucharest to New York.

Still, do not expect this book to be one of travel diaries, but more of some notes during the travel. There will not be descriptions of places, portrayals of characters, or exciting adventures. I know from previous travels how far the thought flies away while the plane, bus, or train, carries us over miles and miles— so it is quite difficult to restrain yourself from not writing down such notes. These long American roads through desert are excellent for putting down our thoughts. That’s why this will be more a book of travel thoughts than one of travel adventures. I am not in the situation of a professional writer looking for ideas. On the contrary, I had too many ideas, but too little time and skill to write all of them.

The expression “Caesar crossed the Rubicon” has the power of a symbol because it forced the association of two far–fetched entities of very different sizes: Caesar’s greatness and the smallness of Rubicon river. If the two entities had been of the same size— small or great—the statement would have been banal. But as it is, we must think at its metaphoric sense. If I am to use the same line of thought, I should associate my own modest name with a very large stream, but I am afraid that too many people already crossed even the ocean. It would be no more impressive. What is left for me is to use the well–known expression just for its symbolic value, for a hard decision not for mankind but for myself. Yes, for me and for my financial limitations, crossing the Atlantic is an important decision. Very important! And there is one more difference. Crossing the Rubicon suggests the infringement of a peace treaty and beginning a war. I cannot declare war on anyone, but only to my savings and myself. Therefore, I have broken the peace treaty with myself. Anyway, I am thinking that it is much wiser to do it with myself, as I have often been at war with other people, particularly with my chiefs so far. Evidently, there is little chance to win such wars, but surely it is a great challenge.

England displays a flock of small clouds, looking like sheep, as though they want to remind us of the famous wool of Shetland. We could not see the Shetland Islands from here, but they are not far away. Times were changing! Former English people used to graze sheep; today they shepherd clouds. Toward the west, these small sheep turn themselves into dinosaurs and finally a milky mass makes the scenery uninteresting. I would prefer to write, “landscape”, but probably “water–scape” or “cloud–scape” would be more appropriate. My own brand of English frequently offers me more unusual possibilities than the common vocabulary would allow.

Meanwhile we have passed beyond England. Above Ireland the clouds are so high that they nearly touch the wings of the plane, which is flying at 33,000 feet, according to the altitude just announced on the display. The Ireland also is behind us now. Surprise! The Gulf Stream and the sun love each other. Odd thing! It would be expected that a warm–water current, which penetrates into a colder area, would form fog above it. But on this occasion that’s not what happened. It is as clear as it possibly could be: not a single cloud! It seems the gods prefer water surfaces, as it can hardly be coincidence that almost always when I fly above seas or oceans the sky is cloudless. That surely proves the gods love water more than earth.

We are crossing the ocean. Nice but boring! The same scenery under the same plane wing... And the seat feels narrower and narrower... A good sleep would be the best for me, but I cannot fall asleep. I am too tired because my travel began earlier in the night from Brasov, and I am overexcited.

It is eight o’clock in the evening in Romania now. On the television, a “tele–novella” has just finished and another one is going to start. They suit the Romanians’ mentality and landscapes. Hill, valley, hill, valley, and so on towards the infinite. Nothing new! Why does one go to great aim, any longer, as more endeavors bring more pain too? The Romanian philosopher Lucian Blaga has noticed this characteristic of Romanian people. Let us see what “tele–novella” I shall do in the New World.

Now and again, particularly when I am tired, I have a tendency to philosophize. Some more malicious fellows say that I am like this almost all the time. It would be good for me but not for them, I think. On the other hand, Jose Ortega y Gasset assures us that “philosophy keeps its virginity in spite of its repeated violations”, so philosophy is in no danger. As for my inclinations toward such preoccupations, they exist only in the etymological sense of the word: Philo means love and Sophia means wisdom. A philosopher involves a professional, namely someone who earns his living doing philosophy, or at least appearing to do it. As long as I have another profession, I could not be a philosopher at the same time, but I would love to be more sagacious, or at least to know more than I know. I do not think that, for such a little thing, one would agree to recognize me as a philosopher. The professionals certainly don’t, but I have to assume that I am not suffering for it.

The adjectival sense of the word philosophy is still acceptable not only for me, but also for all people, because – to a certain extent – all of us are philosophers, that is to say lovers of wisdom. That does not mean that all of us are necessarily wise persons —which would be the most boring thing on earth— but we cannot deny we would like to be wise. But what is wisdom really? Napoleon said that stupid people deal with the past, wise men with the present day and madmen with the future (Les sots parlent du passe, les sages du présent, les fous de l’avenir). If he had been a little mad, his fate would have been better, maybe. One thing is certain: he used to have very unclear ideas about wisdom. So please allow me to consider myself, if not a philosopher, at least a fan of it. Napoleon also said: “Mind always beats the sword”. Paradoxical fellow this Napoleon!

Why have I said I should not want to be a professional philosopher? Because, since Socrates’ days, up until today, philosophy has been through the mill, from sublime toward ridiculous! First at all, from the large field of knowledge, smaller but more precise fields have spun off, one after another. They have built their means of investigation, and have defined themselves as more or less exact sciences. The remaining field for philosophy has become smaller and smaller, and fatally, fewer and fewer people are willing to make philosophy their career— as long as scientific ones were much more pertinent and profitable. The remaining philosophers, following the example of the exact sciences, tried to create their own language but, unfortunately, not to make the expression clearer but, on the contrary, more esoteric and exclusive.

Veda means in Sanskrit language science, knowledge (Rig–Veda, Sama–Veda, etc.). This proves that, in the third millennium B.C. a priest used to be scientist and scholar as well. The separation occurred later. The weakest of them remained philosophers and particularly priests.

Often, nowadays philosophers write on a rigorous, arid and sophisticated way what people knew long before. Often, in many scholarly writings, the author ends his expose with a folks’ saying, destined to confirm the truth of his logical demonstration, but which proves that popular wisdom has built-in for a long time what he had just discovered.

Socrates used to philosophize with all people, for all people, using language adequate to his interlocutors, but always approaching essential problems. Nowadays philosophy is only a parade of language, sometimes just to hide a lack of ideas and content. “Quand un philosophe nous répond, on ne comprend plus du tout ce qu’on lui avait demandé.” (André Gide) The consequence is recorded by one of the last of common–sense Romanian philosopher: “the authors of philosophic texts are greater in number today in the world than their readers” (Gabriel Liiceanu).

As for the people, from the philosophy they wait for something that it cannot give, and afterwards – receiving nothing – they express their disappointment. Man wants to receive the truth, but the single way to accede to it is his own inner act of thinking. By all means, philosophy should be thought repeatedly, in every epoch, with the tools of thinking specific to that epoch.

As a reader, I prefer the essays of scientists who, willing or not, become more philosophical as the years go by. At least they passed some serious examinations and proved some superior brains. The first philosophers were the scientists of their time as well. Later on, most of the serious ones used to have hard studies. Probably such thoughts entered Schopenhauer’s mind when he wrote “he who wants to make serious philosophy must study thoroughly at least on exact science”. Therefore the idea is not a new one, but it is not convenient. Why? It is not difficult to see.

Late in the day, Greenland appears on the display, to the right of our route. Green–Land what an irony! Perhaps it seemed green to those who, coming from the glaciers, baptized it so, even though 80% of the land is covered in ice. This may have been their point of view.

The ocean, seen from above, with some small clouds on it, seems to look exactly as the sky does from the earth. The same shapes, the same colors! Here is a case where two different objects seem to be similar. It is not the alone. I could find more examples. Particularly among us, many people seem to be what they are not.

My thoughts are interrupted. We have arrived. “Chacun a son défaut oł toujours il revient”, La Fontaine said it. I have my flaws too. The grass is always greener on the other side of the fence. What about the other side of the ocean? It must be very greener.

After three years, I am again on American soil, or to be more exact, not on the grass, but on the concrete of JFK airport, where a Chinese woman’s voice is announcing something that is hardly understandable if you do not know beforehand what she is saying. But more urgently is the need to shave myself and change my thick clothes for a T–shirt, because there is 87 degrees Fahrenheit outside here, as opposed to the 40 degrees Fahrenheit as it was on the night I left Brasov.

This time I avoided New York. I saw it three years ago and consider that was enough. From my previous trip, the memory of the first night comes to mind when, due to jetlag, I was not being able to sleep. It was whilst looking at the ceiling of my room in Gramercy Park Hotel the idea to note down my travel impressions came. As always happens, any marvel lasts three days. While getting used to local time, making travel notes was always seemed to be a job for later. This time, I proposed to be a more hardworking tourist.

Also, I remember well the first dinner in a small Indian restaurant, with the spiciest food that I ever ate—and of course the town, not only for its buildings, but especially for its breathing. Yes, New York, I mean Manhattan, has a peculiar breathing. It is not as polluted as it’s supposed to be, thanks to the ocean, which sends a permanent breeze of fresh air and has a particular buzz.

There is not nightlife in the streets of New York. After six o’clock, lots of bags with garbage appear at the front of the shops. As for the Central Park, it would be rightly dangerous to walk through at night. It seems only towns with a hot climate are animated in the evenings. It is understandable if we think that people take the shelter of buildings during the days, and go out after sunset.

There is one more reason I am not eager to see New York now: the rule of the five targets. According to this rule, a tourist should not exceed five objectives: five towns in a country, five monuments in any town, five paintings in a museum, etc. Otherwise, the multitude of detail will turn everything into a jumble without head and tail, and will be insufficient time even for a single large objective. This time, New York is not on my list.

Another plane, much smaller, will carry me to Miami. While I wait, I have respite for looking at the people walking up and down. In Romania, some shoes with very thick soles are in the women’s fashion, but almost nobody wears them here in the US. The Americans are a more practical people. An easy sandal surely is more comfortable than a shoe like a caterpillar. To me, the fashion otherwise seems the same here, but I am far from being a specialist.

Now and again, the Chinese voice from the loudspeaker seems to sing. I had better go to my gate. The song is not that of a mermaid and I am not Ulysses, but it could be just as dangerous to me, due to my tiredness. There are more than 24 hours since I have been awake.