Christina Ammon has penned stories for Orion Magazine, Hemispheres, The San Francisco Chronicle, Conde Nast and numerous travel anthologies. She is the recipient of an Oregon Literary Arts Fellowship for nonfiction and organizes the Deep Travel writing tours in Morocco and Nepal.
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When not traveling, Christina Ammon lives in Ruch, Oregon where she writes, sips wine, and paraglides. For travel tales and workshop information, visit her blog
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PML: What triggered your life as inveterate traveller
and writer?
CA: I grew up with a case of geographical
low-self esteem. I think this is common among kids living in places like the
American Midwest. I disdained the ordinariness, the flatness, the feeling of
not being somewhere - like California!
PML: Did your parents and siblings feel the same
way?
CA: Given that they all live in Nebraska, Kansas
and Minnesota, I don’t think they felt the same way at all.
PML: But what was so frustrating about life in the
Midwest?
CA: I didn’t understand why people wanted
to take on all of the strictures of conventional life: get married young, have
kids right away, live in the same house forever etc. But that’s how teenagers
think.
PML: And now?
CA: I understand now the huge satisfaction that
comes from having roots and rich, long-term friendships. And I respect the meaning people find in
family and routines and community—wherever they find it.
PML: But your choices have necessitated
sacrifices.
CA: Yes, I have forgone having children and
committed to have adventures, which offer up a similar amount of mundane
moments, stress, and annoyances all redeemed by moments of transcendence.
PML: Meaning?
CA: Those
moments of bliss where you feel sort of out of yourself and connected to
everything. Small, transient moments of
awakening and pure contentment. It’s blissful.
PML: How did you get in touch with the outside
back then?
CA: My window to the big world—as it was for
many--was National Geographic magazine. I sat on the brown shag carpet of my bedroom
in Nebraska and thumbed through photos of Africa and South America and conjured
some big dreams. I still haven’t quite
matured out of the dream of being a female Sinbad and sailing the high seas, or
trekking through the Middle East like Freya Stark.
PML: I’ve read a little of Freya Stark. Didn’t she have a rather condescending, colonial
attitude?
CA: So, I’d be Freya Stark minus the
colonialism. Or how about Pippi Longstocking instead? Seriously, when it comes
to traveling role models for women, it’s been slim pickings. Our gender hasn’t
historically been encouraged to set off on our own. That’s changing now.
PML: How did you begin writing about travelling?
CA: It was Jeff Greenwald who tipped me over the
edge. I read his book Shopping for
Buddhas when I was sick in bed with flu and food-poisoning in Kathmandu,
Nepal in my early twenties. His humor
and insight were the best medicine. He modeled a way of travel, or I should say
a way of looking at travel, that I
wanted for myself: an openesss to the random and as well as a comedic attention
whatever is served up. Jeff winnows the remarkable out of the most ordinary, and
at the same time, makes the remarkable feel ordinary to the reader. Although he
has had incredibly exotic experiences, he communicates in accessible, everyday
metaphors.
PML: Can you
give us an example?
CA: The flow and color of a monks orange robe
might be described as “a flood of Florida orange juice.” I always delight in these whimsical
descriptions and ability to render the extraordinary ordinary. There is
humility in this approach, in not presenting his own life in grand, flourishing
terms, or holding his experience above that of his reader.
PML: Do you have your own philosophy towards
travelling?
CA: Travel, like writing, is a creative act and like
all creative acts, is best not planned too much in advance. But there is
alchemy in the first step. You can’t know what an essay is really going to be
about until you’ve written it. The writing itself is generative. The same goes
for travel. The first step is generative: one step is followed by the next in
the way that one word suggests another. If you want all the details ahead of time, either
you won’t begin or the writing/travel will have a stiff and disappointing
quality. That step into the unknown can feel risky and painful though. At first, you wander around feeling lost, and
you wonder if you are wasting time.
PML: Do you always have such feelings?
CA: Particularly in the case of solo travel. I’m
usually miserable for at least a little while. It takes time to strike a match,
for the trip to catch fire. I’m still undone by it, but now at least hold a
little more faith that I’ll find my way.
PML: Where
do you think this discomfort comes from?
CA: It’s the feeling of being suspended between
two chapters. You’ve left what you know, but haven’t started the new chapter
yet. You’re in limbo. It’s awful. But I think it’s a potent formula for living
a vital life.
PML: Which
is?
CA: It’s
being awake! It’s not trying to escape through television or compulsive
Internet-use, or addiction. It’s not trading your integrity for security by
staying in dead relationships, or in jobs or lifestyles that are killing you.
It’s being present and sitting with pain. It’s grieving, laughing—it’s
everything that isn’t numb.
PML: Can
you describe one of your trips?
CA: I arrived in Morocco by myself a couple of
years ago. I floated from Tangier to Chefchaouen to Fez and felt depressed for
the first month. I even looked into
early plane tickets home. Later, I ended making wonderful friends, and having
some of the most profound travel experiences of my life.
PML: How did that come about?
CA: Well, after feeling isolated in Fez for a
while, I worked up the nerve to call a writer I admired. Soon after, I was
having dinner with her and her husband. Then, they hosted me in their
incredible house for months and introduced me to many people wonderful people.
So, I went from being depressed and aimless, to incredibly inspired and
connected. That couple saved me! Travel serves up some awful loneliness
sometimes, but it also offers magic connections. Anyway, I stayed for four months and return
every year. I’m glad I stuck out those initial weeks. Nothing is wasted.
PML: You’re off to Morocco again soon.
CA: I’m organizing writing and storytelling
workshops in Morocco for this fall. Our group will have a cultural exchange
with the old storytellers of Marrakech. Morocco has a long storytelling
tradition that has been threatened in this era of Internet and television. Our
group will be part of an effort to keep this ancient tradition alive.
PML: I’m
wondering whether travelling contributes to destroying such traditions too...
CA: The cat is already out of the bag, and it’s
probably not going back in. There is an upside though. In this case, travelers
are interested in the storytellers, are willing to pay to hear them, and that
could inspire a renaissance of sorts.
PML: How do you design these trips?
CA: I approach
itineraries like art projects and take great care in calibrating the pace of
the trip. It’s fun to do something a bit rough like trekking in the mountains and
then follow it up with some pampering, to immerse ourselves into something
deeply foreign, but then relax into something comfortable.
PML: How do you connect your participants with the
local culture?
CA: I search for the people in the place who can articulate the culture. For example, rather than trail around a guide
to the Top Ten Sites (you can do that on your own with a guidebook!), we wander
the medina with Fez photographer Omar Chennafi. You never know what’s going to
happen with Omar—he doesn’t plan in advance. You just experience the place as
he experiences it—running into friends, stopping over somewhere for a spontaneous
cup of mint tea. People like Omar are bridges for us, they straddle both
worlds—that of the local and that of the foreigner and so can empathize and
help translate our confusion. Fez writer Suzanna Clarke is another one, Sandy
McCutcheon another, and Mike Richardson with his cross-cultural cafes. There
are not many people at this nexus, so it feels like such a gift when you find
them.
PML: Thanks for this, Christina. A brief word about future plans?
CA: I see more
writing, more travels, and more workshops abroad. Our Morocco storytelling
workshops will be held October 21-30th and December 4th-13th.
Photos by Tim Daw.
Photos by Tim Daw.