“Florida is the hottest city in the USA”, yaps a hobo with a flawed geographical knowledge. He rolls a cigarette and sits down on a bench. The rest of his gang follows his example. They all take out their shag tobacco and cheap supermarket lager and continue to cackle loudly. High above, someone must be nodding approvingly. For we are not in Florida at all, but in Jack Kerouac Park in Lowell, Massachusetts. Fragments from Kerouac’s novels and poems can be read on colossal memorial stones. Together with the hobo benches, these stones form a mandala, referring to his flirts with Buddhism.
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The art of disconnected travel: Is it possible to travel without a smartphone?
I always travel without a smartphone. For the simple reason that I don’t own one, never have and I have no intention to buy one in the near future.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m not against technology.
I don’t use a horse and carriage to get to places. (Instead, I cycle, walk or use public transportation.)
I don’t live in a mud hut in the mountains of New Zealand, disconnected from electricity and running water. (At least not yet.)
I definitely don’t carry around a portable typewriter, like the bohemian writers and beatniks of the old days. (Although I admit that the idea sounds kind of cool.)
No, on the contrary. As of late, I’ve evolved in quite the flashpacker. I almost invariably carry a laptop (for writing), a camera and an iPod (remember those?) around. I am fond of my toys. But a smartphone? Nope, I’d rather have my balls slowly removed with a rusted spoon.
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