A great, world-wide adventure and journey of self-discovery. "In my childhood, nobody talked about myths and legends. They were just stories. The job of explaining life was left to science, but science eventually failed the test. So did politics, of course. And love. And property. And journalism just went on begging the question." -97. On meeting another rider, "'Oh well, back into it again.' I knew he meant time to sweat out the beer and replace it with water, to shrink his stomach back to a handful of millet and mutton sauce, to forget about washing for a while and get back to the bare essentials. How good that will feel, I thought, once the withdrawal symptoms have gone and I'm comfortable again with the least I need to survive." -144. On how our mind-set affects the ride: "The bike also felt off balance, as usually happened when my mood was unstable...I was unwilling to believe that all this proceeded from my own mind, and I tried to diagnose faults. I checked the timing, the plugs, looking for loss of power, speculating on whether a jet was clogged or whether the humidity was affecting the mixture. I looked at the wheel alignment and several times snatched a glance at my rear tire, convinced that it must be flat. There was nothing wrong and none of my speculations made sense[.]" -144. On Africa and travel: "Normally unreligious people who have been here awhile say that Africa belongs to God. They say that if you just stop and listen for a moment the truth appears directly." -158. On the ship that brought him from Africa to Brazil, the Zoe G.: "In its better days this ship, once Danish, would have been entirely suitable to Agatha Christie...If it was now more appropriate to Graham Greene that was, in a sense, all to the good." -184. On fellow travelers carrying guns: "Guns never made any sense to me. When I pictured myself fighting off bandits with firearms I knew the idea was ridiculous. For one thing, if I were to be attacked at all it would almost certainly be on the road. Short of having rocket launchers slung under the handlebars it would be impossible for me to defend myself while riding. By the time I stopped the bike and got to my gun it would be all over. But my revulsion for firearms went much deeper than that. I was convinced, from the start, that merely to carry a gun invites attack. When there is a fear of hostility my mind is torn between two kinds of response; to lick 'em or to join 'em. With a gun in my pocket I would be thinking more about licking them, and I have come to believe firmly that what is going on in my mind is reflected in a thousand little ways by the way I behave towards others. I am not beyond believing that just having that gun in my pocket would be enough to get me shot. Anyway, there was a notion of manliness associated with weaponry that I could not understand. Guns seemed to me to speak only of fear. I would prefer my chances of walking empty-handed up to any bandit, rather than trying to shoot him first, and all the accounts I later heard seemed to bear me out." -299-300. Shortly after that notation about fear as an unwise motivator, Simon can't help himself and is impressed by the stories of "highway robbery in Colombia." He buys 3 padlocks and a chain to attach to his leather tank bags...and the keys are stolen when he leaves them on a shop counter. He has to hire someone to hacksaw the 3 padlocks off the bike. -300.On LA, "senseless extravagance" culture shock: "I arrived there still smelling the smell of sweat and stale urine, of unruly growth and open decay. I was used to faces that showed the imprint of emotion, the stamp of excess. I was accustomed to things being old, worn down, chipped, scratched, scuffed and patched, but real. Where I had been, people and things were forced to show the real stuff they were made of, because the superficial could not survive the battering it got. I was used to the sound of life, roars of laughter, shouts of anger, whistles, catcalls, bargaining, argument and domestic squabble; to the sight and smell of animals; to old people sunning themselves. Where I had been, children came running.I looked into the cars that rode alongside me on the freeway. I saw men and women starting blandly ahead with faint smiles on their carefully carefree faces. No visible signs of life there. I looked around me for a genuine house. They were all simulated. Some looked like ice cream. Some were simulated Spanish. Some pretended to be factories, or monasteries, or farmhouse cottages. All fake. Nothing original." -322. Simon is unsure that an Bolivian Indian chewing coca would be able to tell the difference between LA and Disneyland, "a completely simulated and totally controlled 'fun environment' in which life was just one long, uninterrupted ride." -323.On meeting a quiet hippy at a San Francisco commune/farm: "'Oh,' he said, still gazing at me quizzically. The silence gathered again. I waited. There was no hurry. A wasp buzzed against the windowpane. It was very peaceful. I knew what he was doing and I was enjoying it, two strangers alone together in a room, appraising each other, savoring each other like animals." -328. And the meaning of the journey: "To find out." "'But what is it you wish to find out?' he persisted. 'Why I am doing it.'" -438
My father is an adventurer at heart. He rode a motorcycle through South America a decade before Che; he jumped out of airplanes at night and landed in Southeast Asian jungles; he spent 40 years fishing in Alaska, both off Kodiak and in the Bering Sea. Now, he and my mother are retired, and they spend a good deal of their time traveling still - on a motorcycle. They have a great set-up: a trailer packed with a beautiful tent and an air mattress; picnic goodies, bottles of gin. They tool around Mexico and the continental U.S., camping in the back yards of breweries and hanging out for weekends at bluegrass shows. They've definitely got some things figured out.They met Ted Simon, and enjoyed an afternoon of story-swapping; my dad said this book made him want to take off across the world again. Knowing my own taste for travel and the edgy, dangerous, or uncomfortable experience, my dad lent me his signed copy of this book as a way of sharing something he cares about. ____________________________________Most critics say that this book gave them an uncontrollable attack of Wanderlust. Strange - having spent most of my life in the grips of such restlessness, this book actually made me reflect on the temporary contentment I now enjoy after years of being anywhere but here.Simon was a journalist prior to becoming a self-styled hero, and we are grateful - his writing is adequate, and often even lucid and beautiful. The Journey is strangely bodiless, for the most part. Simon writes like a pair of traveling eyes with an ego attached; rarely do we get saddle sores, headaches, heat rash, or dysentery on this 4-year odyssey. Perhaps he is a remarkably hardy specimen; perhaps he didn't think it necessary to put us through more than the occasional swarm of mosquitoes. Nonetheless, there is a closely observed richness to his writing, and an immediacy that shows he took good notes, and was able to revisit his experiences in sequence as well as through a greater common narrative. Despite his occasionally inflated sense of self (he is extremely proud of his accomplishments, throughout), Simon makes for a thoughtful and sensitive tour guide. I chalk his accidental chauvinism up to a lack of insight - few informants for the world of women, as he traces his global story through the men he meets, with the occasional entrance of a woman as a beautiful or admirable thing, though rarely world-shaping or responsible for the building of human history. I would absolutely recommend this book to anyone with a fondness for things other than the familiar, with a taste for travel, or even for the casual motorcycle fetishist. His trip is worth admiring, and worth using as an example - both of the possibilities that lie before individuals who choose to take the roads less traveled, and of the uncertainty that comes with any spiritual quest.
Do You like book Jupiter's Travels (2005)?
I can understand how this book could inspire people to put their lives on hold and embark on a two wheeled adventure around the world. Luckily I was able to satisfy my urge for adventure while reading this book somewhat locally with my cruiser and/or dual purpose motorcycles and did not have to leave the country to scratch the proverbial itch. It is interesting to see how much the world has changed from the time Ted Simon completed his trip and wrote this book. The techno/communications age of today along with the largely held unpopular opinions of people from the U.S.A. by some foreign people would certainly change the dynamics of this trip and book today.Interestingly enough Ewen McGregor and Charlie Boorman (along with film crew) completed two similar more recent trips. The result was a very interesting and entertaining documentary however they did not achieve the same integration into the culture of visited areas that Ted was able to accomplish many years prior. This could be due to the large difference in the amount of time that was devoted to each quest or an indication of how much the world has changed in the last almost 40 years. All things are now more accessible and very little if anything is considered impossible making it more difficult to achieve the "Wow factor". Explorers traveling to "new" or "unexplored" areas gradually and sadly become viewed by the locals as "just another western tourist".I would definately recommend this book if you have any interest in motorcycles or travel adventure, just be sure to read it in the summer because you will want to ride!
—Jason Saunders
Goddamn it!! How did I get tricked into reading another bullshit, transcendental 70's enlightenment novel??!! After Robert Pirsig's puddle of diaper filling, I swore I'd never read one of these things again! This was billed as a travel book...Curses!*sigh*On to the book. What a boring, self-indulgent novel. Ol' Ted decides to go slummin' through the third world in some misguided attempt to test himself. Once underway, his special brand of bitter negativity slowly swallows every paragraph. His suspicions and mistrust permeate all of his interactions. The countries flow by as little more than overblown customs headaches. The rare happy moments end with a caveat. As much as you'd think the trip should be the focus, it's only ever about the author.When he's not being lavished with attention from the little people, he slips into deep self pity. In fact, the entire course of the book is defined by his wallowing. In Brazil, he's confined to the office of a police station for 10 days while they sort out his paperwork. Never chained or threatened, he's taken out to meals and given books to read while being assured that it'll be worked out, which it is completely without incident and he's sent on his way. Unbelievably, he devotes 65 pages of the book to this 'harrowing ordeal' during which he actually becomes convinced he's going to be killed. Conversely, he commits a whopping 35 pages to his months in Australia and another 40 pages to his months in India. Apparently there weren't enough 'poor Ted' stories to make those places worth talking about.To round out his travelogue, he actually comes to believe that he's a demigod. I'm serious...I couldn't make this stuff up. He thinks he's a god among ants. It's where the book title comes from. Jupiter is him. He even gave himself a god's name. This was written by a tired man. He's tired of the trip the moment he starts and it's obvious that he got equally tired of writing the book. What could have been a stirring story of landscapes, people, kindnesses and hardships is completely ruined by a guy who's at once arrogant and pathetic.
—Gavin
The concept behind this book sounded great but it did take me a little while to get into the rhythm reading it. Overall the author does a great job describing the people, culture, and landscape that he travels on his motorcycle. However, there are some parts where he goes into a lot of detail on motorcycle repair stuff and as a non-motorcycle person that stuff kinda bored me. However, once I got into the book I did really like it and have a lot of respect for the author going on such a long journey completely alone in a time where it was a lot harder to get directions and plan trips and stuff. It's a good read for anyone who enjoys the story of a journey around the world.
—Rosie
