Tag International

Geography of Bliss

If you are interested in social psychology and how the conceptual understanding of happiness varies between cultures, then The Geography of Bliss: One Grump’s Search for the Happiest Places in the World is for you. Weiner travels across the globe trying to find the world’s happiest locations. He travels to the Netherlands, Switzerland, Bhutan, Qatar, Iceland, Moldova, Thailand, Great Britain, India and America in search of this aim.

While the subtitle of the book is, “One Grump’s Search for the Happiest Places in the World,” this is hardly fitting as Weiner is nowhere near as grumpy as other travel critics like Chuck Thompson. His commentary, unlike Thompson’s, is not as amusing or funny, but is in depth and offers real insight into the nations Weiner travels to in search of happiness.

Weiner begins his search by visiting the Netherlands, where a group of sociologists study and document happiness. This concept seems not only wasteful (time, money, etc.) but ridiculous in that happiness cannot be quantified (or can it?). Nevertheless, these professors have found a way to measure and assess happiness across the globe.

It was discovered that the happiest nations are the Netherlands, Switzerland and, in general, Western Europe, while the least happy are Tanzania, Rwanda, Zimbabwe and former Soviet republics like Uzbekistan and Belarus. This is not very surprising, claim the sociologists, since there is an obvious correlation between happiness and financial contentment, wherein the poorest nations are hardly happy. Meanwhile, they have discovered (thank god for science) that people with unstable governments and piss poor economics tend to be grumpy (no kidding!) while those who do not live in fear of their government or financial ruin tend to be happier.

Americans rank towards the upper fringes of the middle of happiness, meaning they are somewhat content but don’t take it too seriously. This is not surprising considering Americans have a plethora of problems to deal with but usually manage to do so while laughing. Living in China, many Chinese would ask why Americans view everything as a game or a joke. I laughed in response, but seriously I don’t know the reason.

It is interesting to think of the places we travel through in terms of whether they are happy or not. Uzbekistan, which we spent about a month in last year, was hardly an easy place to travel, and the government and ridiculous policies kept us from enjoying ourselves on a daily basis. Meanwhile, the locals seemed less than content, which is not surprising for an impoverished Muslim nation without resources or sound allies run by a government that thrives on nepotism and corruption. Why are the pawns unhappy, I wonder?

China (along with most of Asia) ranks quite low on the happiness scale, which also does not surprise me. We have spent roughly two years in China and while I’m sometimes shocked and impressed with the Chinese sense of humor, most of the time I find it depressing that the Chinese put so much pressure on themselves all the time and, given the Confucian hierarchy, they hardly let themselves joke around or have fun. But then, the Chinese find themselves in the middle of their ‘industrial revolution,’ which can be an awkward time for anyone.

This is a great book for any traveler who hopes to gain deeper insight into the places he or she visits, but at the same time, happy or not, the world over can only be understood via experiences, so get out there and experience more of it!

We decided to take the night train from Istanbul at 10:00pm across the western boards to Bulgaria. We planned to disembark before Sofia in Bulgaria’s most relaxed city, Plovdiv. The train pulled into the station in Istanbul an hour early and we began to panic a bit at the sight of the metal beast. It was covered from head to tail in graffiti and the conductor was hanging onto the outside of the train, with his right arm reaching into the train presumably to steer. We immediately had a flash back to the horror we experienced on the Kazakh trains that looked equally rusty.

Nevertheless, we loaded ourselves into our compartment. We had spent a bit extra for a sleeper cabin for the three of us, so we were thrilled about the train ride. We talked with the cabin attendant, who ended up being the nicest person we’d met in recent weeks, and he helped us get settled in. Our cabin had three bunks, a small table, and a door to block out all outside sounds. It was perfect, the cabin attendant wasn’t corrupt, and the train left exactly on time. What more could one ask for?

We played cribbage for a few hours and drank a bit of the Cpt. Morgan I had received for my birthday a few weeks earlier. When the tracks began to deteriorate and the clock struck midnight we decided to crash for the evening and I scampered up an unstable ladder to the top bunk.

I woke up at 5am with a start realizing we were not moving. The cabin attendant came into the room and told us we were at the Bulgarian border, and to leave all of our belongings and follow the crowd to customs and border check. This was the first time that we had been asked to disembark from the train for customs, and we were a bit hesitant to just leave our belongings in the cabin. Without other options, however, we grabbed our passports and stood in line to receive a big blue stamp in our passport. “You have now exited Turkey”

I fell back asleep in the top bunk almost as soon as my head hit the pillow. I knew we had to be awake in ten minutes to go through Bulgarian customs and border control, but it was impossible to stay awake. I woke up with my arm outstretched and a Bulgarian military man grabbing the passport that was still in my clutches as I slept. He smiled and stamped the page and put the passport back in my hand. I stuck it under my pillow and was asleep again before he got the cabin door shut.

We arrived in Plovdiv by 11am and since we had no Bulgarian Leva to walk to Old Town to find our hostel. We got lost a few times in the winding, cobblestone streets and I got to try out my Russian again after a month of hiatus to ask how to get to Old Town. We found it after a long, grueling walk with our packs and were overjoyed at the atmosphere at the hiker’s hostel. People were milling around, playing cards, reading and just chatting. We dropped our stuff and started chatting with people to hear their adventures. It turned out one of the guys in the hostel (who had also been on the night train) was in Cappadocia with us a few weeks prior. Small (traveler’s) world. We settled in to enjoy a relaxing day and see the town in the afternoon.