A passport wihtout stamps

"El que ma' ve. El que ma' sabe." He who sees more, knows more.

Words of wisdom from my father. His favorite expression.

He had a passport, out of habit I suppose. But the guy never went anywhere.

He left the frontier town where he grew up for the city and never left again. So whatever he meant by seeing, it couldn't have been geography. Maybe seeing, for him, meant something closer to attention: the ability to stand in front of something long enough to notice what it was trying to tell you.

I think about that now when I travel. The more I see, the less certain I become that the way I see things is the way things are.

Decades ago, first time in the old part of Dubai, vendors kept offering me tea. They did it with such grace that I had a hard time refusing, but I refused anyway. I was wired for the West. I assumed the tea was part of the sale, a way to soften me before the bargaining began.

Maybe sometimes it was.

But I learned later that offering tea was also a gesture of welcome. By then I was back at the hotel, having refused every cup.

I had seen the tea. I had seen the gesture. I had even noticed the grace with which it was offered.

I just hadn't understood what I was looking at.

Travel has given me many versions of that mistake. In some places people eat with their hands; I reach for utensils. Some bow; I offer my hand. Some air-kiss; I kiss. Some kiss; I hug.

None of this is particularly exotic. And that's the point.

The more normal things I see, the less I believe that my normal is the normal.

Maybe that's what my father understood without ever crossing a border. Seeing was never about miles. You could travel halfway around the world and see only what you brought with you. Or you could stay in one city your entire life and learn to look.

He stayed. I traveled the world. Somehow, I’m still catching up.

The one who sees more, knows more.