Exploring America: A Journey Through 2023’s Travel Trends

OVER the past year, I traveled 30,000 miles delving into the western region of the US, staying in both extreme wilderness and stylish cities, utilizing back roads instead of the interstates. I engaged with individuals from all backgrounds and emerged physically unscathed despite occasional risks, although many preconceived notions were dismantled. Here are my main insights, particularly in light of recent political changes.

Aside from the major urban centres, the nation is alarmingly uniform. Listening to the incessant narrative about the spread of Hispanics, one might expect the rural areas to be ablaze with multiculturalism. In the presidential debates, we heard claims that “in Springfield [Ohio], they [Haitian immigrants] are consuming the dogs … they’re consuming the cats”. However, even in regions where demographic statistics and local industries would suggest otherwise, migrants are seldom visible. Xenophobic attitudes are strongest precisely where migrants are least present.

Just north of San Francisco, Marin, Sonoma, and Napa counties become excessively white. Charming towns like Petaluma and Sebastopol remain steeped in fifties nostalgia. Along the breathtaking Oregon coast this summer, I encountered very few non-white individuals (except for international tourists) until I hiked in a state park about an hour west of Portland. I instantly speculated where the young biracial couples originated. Yet Portland itself, despite its artsy image, is intolerably white, both in demographics and societal norms.

The eastern parts of Oregon and Washington carry a well-deserved reputation for historical racism. Nonetheless, I plunged into the supposed bastions of white supremacy in Idaho, Montana, and Wyoming. Hiking, camping, and other outdoor ventures remain predominantly white pursuits, rooted in their origins as middle-class getaways from urban monotony. Participating in ‘white’ activities in relentlessly white surroundings heightened my awareness of the artificial nature of the escape. The deviation lay not so much in white nationalism but in rural deprivation, which the nation is reluctant to confront.

Urban gentrification has astonishingly managed to replicate itself in the same way everywhere.

After four decades of neoliberal commercialization, urban gentrification has astonishingly managed to replicate itself uniformly. Los Angeles feels the most dystopian due to its gargantuan characteristics, but all cities seem to gravitate towards its infectious anxiety. Los Angeles fails to function effectively as an opportunity hub because it is oversold. I found myself more at ease among the homeless in the Tenderloin district of San Francisco, even though a recent supreme court ruling criminalizes homeless encampments. I prefer the visibility of poverty.

Road rage, previously a rarity, is now pervasive, particularly in progressive cities. Phoenix is where you unexpectedly meet life-threatening speed as you approach from the east. Its painfully meticulous suburban order mocks itself. The sprawl in Phoenix or Las Vegas is so immense that their sustainability amid water and other shortages appears unrealistic. All of this cultivates anxiety, which cannot be openly articulated, except through distractions like “healthy lifestyles.”

Caste awareness in America has been simplified to a binary. The strict division between what we might term ‘Brahmins’ and “Dalits” is widespread. Seattle housed the largest concentration of immigrant desi professionals I observed. Wherever such cosmopolites thrive, the same set of unresolvable contradictions involving inequality exists. Yet finding healthy food outside major cities is nearly impossible, leading me to yearn for familiar comforts, despite the mundane gentrification.

The two Americas, red and blue (as depicted by the November 5 electoral map), don’t communicate — but it extends beyond that. The tech elite in Silicon Valley share an identical vocabulary of elitism. One former overseer of dialogue at Twitter claimed that “the people are ignorant” and must be shielded from themselves, a sentiment I frequently heard among the tech community.

American fury seems poised to erupt into blatant violence at the slightest provocation. The Brahmins express it through swiftness and discourtesy, while the Dalits manifest it through rampant conspiracy theories, often labelled as ‘common sense’. The shoplifters, homeless, and undocumented must be eliminated by militaristic force, as I observed in Portland, recently the site of the George Floyd protest.

Some of the rural fury might arise from the cultural void, with scant signs of spontaneous cultural expression. Not that the urban areas are any different, as such once-vibrant locales as Haight-Ashbury, Berkeley, and the Sunset Strip are mere shadows of their past glory.

I couldn’t shake off the question of whether this civilization is precarious or stable, on the brink of collapse or firmly anchored. Would a mere trigger, like a climate crisis, be enough to topple it, or is it resilient? Perhaps it is a combination of both.

As with everything, infrastructure is distributed unequally. I explored all four quadrants of New Mexico and Arizona, and the roads were so poorly construct that I vowed never to return. The vast majority of towns seem to be edging towards becoming ghost towns, with minimal foot traffic, the same Family Dollars devoid of patrons, and Walmart and Home Depot functioning as the forced hubs of activity. The hustle and bustle dwindles even in the revitalized major downtown areas during the evenings.

Taking in the entire western expanse of the nation left me stunned by the vast emptiness of the land; nearly all the inhabitants seem to occupy a tiny fraction of the territory. Entire nations could be prosperously resettled in the desolation. The absence of a modern homesteading initiative to allocate land to the landless feels like a travesty.

Unanchored, wandering, unclaimed, I became increasingly aware of my neglected roots in the colonial heritage. To avoid mishaps, maintaining calmness is paramount on such a journey, yet ultimately, I too succumbed to American fury, disturbed by the uniform crudeness, self-absorption, and inequality of the cities, along with the cultural barrenness of the countryside.

I began with boundless enthusiasm and nostalgia but soon found it challenging to concentrate on anything except death — not merely my own, but of the civilization surrounding me. When I remained stationary, that sensation faded, but when on the move, it surged back with a vengeance. This may relate to the distorted forms of contemporary mobility itself, with driving as the only viable mode of transportation available. Yet I intend to resume next year, exploring the eastern United States, setting aside my grievances as unnecessary baggage.

The author is a writer of numerous books encompassing fiction, poetry, and criticism.

Published in Dawn, December 26th, 2024