Without Reservations_ The Travels of an Independent Woman - Alice Steinbach [111]
What I learned about the world and about myself during the time covered in Without Reservations also enabled me in 2000 to leave the Baltimore Sun in order to write books full-time. My identity for twenty-one years was tied up in being a newspaper reporter, so it was not an easy decision. It has turned out, so far, to be a good one. Although I still do some freelance journalism, I am currently working on my next book—a nonfiction work that chronicles my travels around the world for approximately two years.
QUESTIONS FOR DISCUSSION
While relaxing at a café in Paris, Steinbach reflects, “What adds up to a life is nothing more than the accumulation of small daily moments.” What does she mean by this? Do you think it is possible to gain a greater understanding of the whole by looking, individually, at its parts? What factors in Steinbach’s life, and perhaps in your own, could cause one to overlook such minute, beautiful moments?
Over the course of the book, Steinbach often personifies the cities, towns, and villages she visits. “Rome and I are not lovers. We are not even friends,” she writes, when reflecting on her unpleasant experience on the Spanish Steps. When describing three towns along the Amalfi coast, she comments, “If Amalfi were a man … he’d be dressed by Calvin Klein and reading Tom Clancy. Positano would wear Armani and carry a book by John le Carré. But if Ravello were a man … he would be in chinos and a fresh white oxford shirt with no tie, buried in a book by Graham Greene.” Why do you think she chooses to describe the places she encounters in human terms? What effect does this technique have on you, the reader?
In her travels, Steinbach meets people from all walks of life. In one observation, she provides a fresh take on the old maxim “Don’t judge a book by its cover” when she writes, “Paris guards her inner beauty from the casual observer. To find it one must look beyond the façades. It is true of people also, I think: their spirits exist behind their façades, beyond their words.” Who does she meet along her journey who helps to reaffirm this belief? What do these encounters teach her about herself and the world around her?
Steinbach constantly reflects on her own sense of adventure or lack thereof. She tries to nurture it and let it grow at its own rate, a rate that is both comfortable and exciting for her. Reminiscing about her youth she notes, “I made dangerous choices in those years, thinking myself bold and adventurous. Later I would come to understand I hadn’t been daring at all, just driven by confusion and hormones. The person capable of true daring, I knew now, possessed two admirable qualities: curiosity and courage.” Do you agree with that definition of a “daring” individual? Thinking back to all of Steinbach’s European adventures (and misadventures), do you think she fits her own bill of what it means to be “daring”?
Remembering an interview she once conducted with French actress Jeanne Moreau, Steinbach realizes that “Moreau’s declaration of independence from ‘looking into the mirror that others hold up to me’ was a deft description of what I was after on this trip.” Searching for the approval or acceptance of others seems to be a recurring theme in Steinbach’s book and, more important, a recurring theme in her daily life in America. To what extent was she able to overcome these insecurities during her travels? Do you think you would react similarly? Why or why not?
What role does Steinbach’s grandmother, or, more correctly, the memory of her grandmother, play in her road to self-awareness? Are there people or events in your past that continue to help you understand the present and, perhaps, address the future?
Steinbach asks herself, “Is it possible to change your outer geography without disrupting the inner geography? The travels within yourself? Today I traveled back to my past and forward to a future shaping itself somewhere at the edge of my thoughts. But I also traveled