HORS D’ŒUVRE
A little journey

The example of Ulysses, like that of Candide, tends to demonstrate the absurdity of distant journeys.
Why go elsewhere, says the wise man, to look for something else?
First of all, you will not find "something else"... You will travel thousands of kilometers to see women who wear rings in their noses; but you still see here ladies who pierce their ears to hang rings on them; and a journey of three thousand kilometers is disproportionate when it comes to noting a displacement of a few centimeters as regards the perforation of a cartilage... A red-skin lady paints her face in horizontal stripes, a Parisian lady spreads the layer of paint equally over the entire surface: it is not worth the journey.
Secondly, there is no "elsewhere"; if you want to be too hot, do not go to Africa: wait here until August. If you want to be too cold, don't go all the way back to Norway: wait until December.
However, man is afflicted with a terrible infirmity, which Pascal denounced: he is bored... So he thinks of taking his boredom for a walk.
He naturally goes as far as he can to get bored. If he can't go very far, he goes to the neighborhood to bore his friends and acquaintances. He awards himself the title of peripatetic philosopher if he has a soul strong enough to take his boredom for a walk around his garden, as Alphonse Karr did, or around his room, as Xavier de Maistre did. He is, without knowing it, an intellectual homeopath if he takes his boredom for a walk in the city of books; for one meets in books as many bores as one avoids in the street.
In short, the only remedy for boredom is to be somewhere else and think of something else. The ideal, no doubt, would be to be nowhere and to think of nothing. Thus the ox does not get bored, especially when it travels in tin cans.
But we do not enjoy the privileges reserved for the bovine species. We are aware of the displacement, and seasickness is a distraction for which we pay very dearly...
All of the above is inspired by a concern for oratorical precaution. I am leaving tomorrow for Tunis, from where I will reach the depths of the Sahara. I will see camels, other camels, real camels. I will see caravans of English and Americans; it seems that at this time of year there are a lot of people in the desert. I am very happy to leave, because it is a beautiful journey; and I will be very happy to return.
I will try to bring you back, if not facts (and dates, naturally), at least some impressions of a naive traveler.

G. de La Fouchardière.