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Writer's pictureKim Letson

I am Other

What insights have you discovered and shared in writing about your adventures?


Every trip offers me greater wisdom about myself and the world around me. The happiest travellers I encounter are the ones with the lightest loads. Lugging around tonnes of luggage seems to suck the joy out of a journey and loosing checked baggage is no fun either. I gain greater understanding from experiencing a little of a place in detail, than a glimpsing a lot in a rush. The most important lesson I’ve brought home, is acceptance of my Otherness when I’m elsewhere. Soul of a Nomad begins with this consideration:

I am Other - foreign in distant lands. While I view the world through my lens, interpreting what I see through what I know, locals interpret what they see in me through their notions of who belongs and who does not. I try to focus on similarities with people I meet and cultures I encounter. Differences are sometimes too obvious, too defining, too separating.


Yet, pointing my finger at a temple, showing the soles of my feet, looking a man in the eye, using my left hand, turning my back to a statue, crossing my legs and a myriad of other mistakes could paint me as a barbaric Other. …


When I am Other in distant places - where I dress strangely, speak only a word or two, expect respect even though I am a white woman - I am aware of myself. My frailties and strengths are amplified when viewed through another cultural perspective. …


This awareness travels with me and often eases interactions with people of diverse cultural backgrounds:

Konya [Turkey] is ultra-conservative. …

We stand out as Other here. …


Splashing back to our hotel, we pop into the owner’s carpet shop next door for a promised cup of tea. He regales us with carpet-making tales and explains natural, chemical, organic and mineral dyes. A wool-dyer, his passion is carpets: knotted carpets, woven killims, antique and new. His carpets and killims reflect regional, traditional and modern patterns. For budget shoppers he has Indian and Chinese copies.

He also describes his childhood, mentioning beatings from the imam at school. He says just enough for us to wonder if he might sway a little from the path of conservative Islam.

“Do you drink beer?” I ask.

“Yes, I do.”

“Do you know where we can buy some?”

“Come, I will show you.”

After following him for several blocks, we duck into a tiny hole-in-the-wall shop with

darkened windows. We pick three beers. Each is carefully wrapped in newspaper and put in a nondescript bag. Our host and the salesman laugh, thinking it odd that these old foreign ladies are sneaking about on a stormy night buying clandestine beers. We keep two and give the third to our host. He’s delighted.


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