Here you can browse through my blog posts prior to February 2022. Currently I'm sharing my travel experiences, candid opinions, and what's on my mind solely on my Facebook page. — Rick

Daily Dose of Europe: Munch’s The Scream

I can’t help but see world events through the lens of Europe. And with all of the turmoil in our world recently, I keep flashing on a universal image of anguish: Edvard Munch’s The Scream.

As America continues to suffer crisis upon crisis, it has never been more important to broaden our perspectives and learn about the people and places that shape our world. And for me, one of the great joys of travel is seeing art masterpieces in person. Learning the stories behind great art can shed new light on our lives today. Here’s one of my favorites.

On a lonely bridge, an emaciated figure (man? woman? fetus?) claps his hands to his face, opens his mouth and eyes wide, and…screams. The sound swirls up through his whole body and bleeds out his terrified skull, echoing until it melts into a blood-red sky. We can “hear” this soundless scream in the wavy lines that oscillate like sound waves.

In this famous work, Edvard Munch captured the anxiety of modern life. In fact, it’s angst literally personified.

While some see this as a man screaming, others think he’s covering his ears to avoid hearing a scream. Or it’s both, like hearing some infernal, never-ending noise — the voices in your head — until you just want to scream.

Munch (pronounced “moonk”) said it was inspired by an actual event. While walking with friends, he was suddenly overcome with the sensation that all of nature was forever screaming. In the painting, the two other men walk on, seemingly oblivious to the noise only he can hear. Munch communicated this inner sensation with snaking lines and shrieking colors. He enhanced the thick soup of paint by mixing in pastels.

Norway’s long, dark winters and social isolation have produced many gloomy artists, but none gloomier than Munch. Many see the screaming figure as autobiographical. It’s the scream of a man who’d seen his mother and sister die young, failed in love, drank too much, flew into rages, heard voices in his head, failed in the art world, and ended up living alone surrounded only by his “children” — hundreds of unsold paintings.

The Scream is actually quite different from Munch’s other work, where he followed traditional Nordic themes of doom and gloom in a realistic style. Like the Norwegian Romantics, he saw nature as charged from within by an awe-inspiring life force.

But The Scream was groundbreaking. Where others captured terror on canvas with realistically gruesome events (hunger, disease, murder), Munch did it by distorting an everyday scene. He bends and twists it into a landscape of unexplained terror. Any sense of normal 3-D depth created by the bridge gets compressed into a claustrophobic wall of swirling colors.

Just five years after painting The Scream, Munch suffered a nervous breakdown and entered a mental clinic. He emerged less troubled…and less creative. His later paintings were brighter, but less daring. He labeled The Scream “the work of a madman.”

But this innovative painting rippled out, like the echoes of a scream. By fusing the bold colors of Fauvism, the curved lines of Art Nouveau, and the emotional intensity of Van Gogh, Munch had pointed the way to a new style — Expressionism. Later artists used such lurid colors, distorted figures, and troubled imagery to “express” their inner turmoil and the angst of the modern world.

The Scream even entered pop culture. The horrified face was used in ads, Halloween masks, and emojis. In many ways, we have Munch to thank for the end of pretty, realistic paintings, and the emergence of the distorted, confrontational, and often ugly style we call modern art.

This art moment — a sampling of how we share our love of art in our tours — is an excerpt from the full-color coffee-table book Europe’s Top 100 Masterpieces by Rick Steves and Gene Openshaw. Please support local businesses in your community by picking up a copy from your favorite bookstore, or you can find it at my online Travel Store. To enhance your art experience, you can find a clip related to this artwork at Rick Steves Classroom Europe.

Daily Dose of Europe: Delacroix’s Liberty Leading the People

The sight of mass protests — people striving for change and the betterment of society — always gets me thinking about Delacroix’s Liberty Leading the People. While the specifics are different, both this painting and the current Black Lives Matter movement are united by a striving for justice and liberty for all citizens…not just the privileged and elite. And both show how people from all walks of society can be united in one voice.

Lady Liberty, carrying the French flag, represents the ongoing struggle and relentless quest for freedom. Nicknamed “Marianne,” she is often seen as the symbol of the French Revolution of 1789, though this painting depicts a later revolution.

It’s Paris. The year is 1830. King Charles X had just suspended civil liberties, and his subjects were angry. The Parisians have taken to the streets once again to fight their oppressors. Eugène Delacroix witnessed the events during those “Three Glorious Days” of revolution, and began composing this work.

The people have taken up arms and erected a barricade in a street near Notre-Dame (in the background). Guns blaze, smoke billows, and bodies fall. Every social class is involved: the hard-bitten proletarian with a sword, an intellectual with a top hat and a sawed-off shotgun, and even a little boy brandishing pistols. Leading them on through the smoke and over the dead and dying is the figure of Liberty, a fearless woman waving the French flag.

Delacroix packed the painting with symbols. To stir the emotions, Delacroix concentrates on the three major colors — the red, white, and blue of the French tricolore. Lady Liberty’s pose is classic, patterned after the ancient goddess Libertas. But instead of a torch and staff, this secular goddess brandishes a flag and a gun. She sports a red “Phrygian cap,” the bandana worn by 1789 revolutionaries.

Delacroix’s painting epitomizes a controversial new style — Romanticism. The canvas is epic in scale (12′ × 10′), the colors bold, and the scene emotional, charged with rippling energy.

The July Revolution of 1830 was a success, and the people toppled their despotic king. Delacroix’s painting was hailed as an instant classic, a symbol of French democracy.

However, the struggle didn’t end there. They’d only replaced one despot with another less-repressive king. For the next few decades, French radicals continued to battle monarchists in pursuit of full democracy (including the 1832 revolt dramatized in Les Misérables). Delacroix’s painting with its inflammatory message had to go underground, and was rarely exhibited in public. But it inspired his fellow lovers of liberty, like Victor Hugo. It may have influenced another French artist, Frederic-Auguste Bartoldi, in his imagery of the Statue of Liberty. Finally in 1874, the political winds were right for it to take its place in the halls of the Louvre.

The painting was born in an era when many still believed that some were born to rule, ordained by God, while others were fated to be ruled. Delacroix stirred France’s passion for liberty. To this day his painting symbolizes the never-ending struggle of the common rabble who long for “Liberté, Egalité, Fraternité” — “Liberty, Equality, and the Brotherhood of All.” And that cry for liberty, equality, and brotherhood still rings on our streets today.

This art moment — a sampling of how we share our love of art in our tours — is an excerpt from the full-color coffee-table book Europe’s Top 100 Masterpieces by Rick Steves and Gene Openshaw. Please support local businesses in your community by picking up a copy from your favorite bookstore, or you can find it at my online Travel Store. To enhance your art experience, you can find a clip related to this artwork at Rick Steves Classroom Europe.

Daily Dose of Europe: Goya’s Third of May

The protests of the last two weeks have been fueled by visibility and exposure: Cell phone footage, social media, and TV news have documented and broadcasted both the spirit of the protesters, and, at times, the violence they are met with. If it weren’t for this, many people still wouldn’t grasp the severity of what the protests are all about.

This got me thinking about popular cries for justice before photography and modern media. Artists and writers courageously raised their brushes and pens for justice. A great example of that is a powerful and important painting from Spain, which, in its own way, shed light on a crisis that might otherwise have gone unseen. Just like the brutality of those who killed George Floyd was exposed by someone with a camera phone, the brutality of those French troops was exposed by Goya.

As court painter to Spain’s kings, Francisco de Goya (1746–1828) spent his career dutifully cranking out portraits and pretty pictures. But inside, he chafed at the arrogance of kings and tyrants, and eventually became a champion of the oppressed.

Goya’s problem with authority came to the fore on one watershed day in Spain’s history — the third of May, 1808. France had invaded Spain. When the proud Spaniards confronted them on Madrid’s main square, Puerta del Sol, the French brutally crushed the protest and started rounding up the ringleaders.

Goya’s Third of May shows the reprisals. It’s the middle of the night, and the rebels have been secretly dragged before a firing squad. They plead for mercy and get none. The soldiers are completely in charge, well-equipped, and well-organized. The rebels are a motley group of grubby workers, scattered and confused. It’s a total mismatch, a war crime. The soldiers — a faceless machine of death — start cutting the men down with all the compassion of a lawnmower. The Spaniards topple into a mass grave. A kneeling man spreads his arms, Christ-like, and asks, “Why?” We can see the whole grim assembly line: those waiting their turn, the victims, the lifeless executed. Next.

If it wasn’t for Goya, who would ever have known about these nobodies? Goya places a big lantern in the middle of the scene and literally shines a light on this atrocity for the whole world to see. It’s a harsh prison-yard floodlight that focuses all the attention on this one man with his look of puzzled horror. The distorted features, the puddle of blood, the twisted bodies, the thick brushwork — all of these were unheard of at the time. Goya helped lay the foundations for a shocking new style — Romanticism — that emphasized strong emotion over idealized beauty.

Because of Goya’s artistic innovations and his social conscience, many consider him to be the last classical and the first modern painter. And thanks to Goya, even today we can remember these anonymous martyrs of freedom.

This art moment — a sampling of how we share our love of art in our tours — is an excerpt from the full-color coffee-table book Europe’s Top 100 Masterpieces by Rick Steves and Gene Openshaw. Please support local businesses in your community by picking up a copy from your favorite bookstore, or you can find it at my online Travel Store. To enhance your art experience, you can find a clip related to this artwork at Rick Steves Classroom Europe

In Troubled Times, Travel Can Be a Political Act

Last week, I shared several posts about the nationwide protests. I declared my solidarity with Black Lives Matter. I drew parallels between our president’s response and the rise of fascism in 1930s Europe. And I solicited contributions for Lawyers and Collars, an initiative by Sojourners to protect the vote of people of color in US elections.

While the response to these posts was predominantly positive (we inspired over 1,500 people to donate more than $100,000 to that campaign), I got the usual smattering of angry people saying, “Stick to travel! Why are you injecting politics into what you do? It’s bad for business!”

To these people I say: Travel and politics are related. And I’ve been mixing travel and politics for years.

There’s something about travel that radicalizes a thoughtful person. Just as the last few weeks’ events have finally opened the eyes of many privileged white Americans like me, who until now have not been fully aware of the racist inequities of our justice system, a trip to another country can be a revelation. When we travel beyond our borders, we learn that other nations hold different truths to be God-given and self-evident.

Visiting other lands, you can find completely different ways of living…and you find that you like some of them better than what you’re used to. Thoughtful travelers bring these strands back home and weave them into their lives — becoming a person with a broader, global perspective.

In 2008, during the waning days of the George W. Bush Administration, I wrote the first edition of my book Travel as a Political Act. Since that time — through the Obama and Trump years — it’s astonishing how much things have changed… and changed… and changed. (In fact, I am currently working on the fourth edition, updated yet again to include those changes.) But the basic message has remained the same: Travel can be a political act.

Here’s an excerpt from the introduction of that book:

For the last 40 years, I’ve been teaching people how to travel. I focus mostly on the logistics: finding the right hotel, avoiding long lines, sampling local delicacies, and catching the train on time. But more important than the “how” we travel is the “why” we travel: Thoughtful travelers do it to have enlightening experiences, to meet inspirational people, to be stimulated, to learn, and to grow.

Travel has taught me the fun in having my cultural furniture rearranged and my ethnocentric self-assuredness walloped. Getting out of my comfort zone through travel has humbled me, enriched my life, and tuned me in to a rapidly changing world. And for that, I am thankful.

As a travel teacher, I’ve been fortunate to draw from a variety of rich overseas experiences. And, since just after 9/11, I’ve been giving a lecture I call “Travel as a Political Act.” I enjoy giving this talk all over the USA — to peacenik environmentalists in Boulder, to high-society ladies’ clubs in Charlotte, to homemakers in Houston, to Members of Congress and their aides on Capitol Hill, and at universities across the country.

As a traveler, I’ve learned we can learn more about our home by leaving it and looking at it from afar. And we can learn more about our own country by observing other countries — and by challenging ourselves (and our neighbors) to be broad-minded. Holding our country to a high standard and searching for ways to better live up to its lofty ideals is not “America-bashing.” It’s America-loving… good citizenship.

I’m unapologetically proud of the ideals that have historically distinguished America. While we face serious challenges — especially these days — those ideals are timeless and resilient, and they still inspire people around the world. The United States has made me who I am. I spend plenty of time in other countries, but the happiest day of any trip is the day I come home. I’d never live abroad, and I’d certainly not have as much fun running my business overseas as I do here at home.

But other nations have some pretty good ideas, too. By bringing these ideas home, we can help our society confront its challenges more wisely. As a nation of immigrants, whose very origin is based on the power of diversity, this should come naturally to us…and be celebrated. After all, the motto of our country — “out of many, one” — is not just an empty slogan. In fact, today, I’d suggest that it’s the rallying cry of a true American. You can’t honestly embrace our flag without embracing this ethic.

Consider the value of travel, and relate it to the turmoil that is filling our streets and headlines in recent days. Perhaps your comments below can help us make this a teaching moment and come out of it a better nation. Thanks.

I’d love to sit down with you and personally share the most important lessons I’ve learned from my travels. If you’d enjoy that, let me literally read my Travel as a Political Act book to you. You’ll feel as if I’m telling intimate stories of how travel stretched, punched, and molded me into who I am today. Simply buy the audiobook version of Travel as a Political Act: https://bit.ly/TAPAaudio

You can also read Travel as a Political act yourself— all royalties are donated to Bread for the World. You can support small business by buying a copy at your local bookseller, or get it at my Travel Store: https://bit.ly/ShopTAPA

Or you can watch this free lecture on the same topics: https://bit.ly/WatchTAPA

Rewatching The Story of Fascism in Europe

One summer evening, the American president ordered a park next to the White House to be cleared of peaceful protesters. He had just declared himself “the law and order president” and announced his intent to mobilize the US military to subdue dissent across the country. And he was about to show off with his own display of force.

The militarized police’s rubber bullets and choking gas drove back throngs of people who were in Lafayette Park lawfully, to protest police brutality. Once the smoke cleared, that president marched through the park, with an entourage of sycophants, and stood before one of the most historic churches in America. There he held up a Bible for a cynical photo op. He brandished the book (upside-down) as if he had never read it. “Is that your Bible?” a reporter asked. “It’s a Bible,” he replied with a smirk.

If I described this scene even a few years ago, you would never have believed that it was real. And yet here we are. As a Christian and a humanitarian, this scene offends me deeply. And as a privileged white man in America, the events of the last week have been a painful but important reminder that so many Americans are denied the basic rights that people like me take for granted every day. To me, “law and order” should mean that Black Lives Matter and all Americans deserve equal protection under the law.

Challenging times — like right now — call for strong leadership: a voice of unity, compassion, and mutual understanding. True leadership is nonpartisan, and in my lifetime, I’ve seen both Democrats and Republicans succeed in bringing together a fractured nation. But that’s not what we have today.

Two years ago, I produced a public television special called The Story of Fascism in Europe. I was driven by what I saw as uneasy parallels between our current political reality and the climate in 1930s Europe that gave rise to Hitler and Mussolini, and by my belief that we need to learn from that history. Today, those parallels have become impossible to deny.

The first 15 or 20 minutes of the special, as the seeds of fascism are planted in Germany and Italy, feel especially relevant in today’s America. Notice how the militarization of police and the scapegoating of “others” are textbook stepping stones in tipping a nation toward authoritarianism. Pay attention to Hitler’s “Brownshirts” and Mussolini’s “Blackshirts” — goon squads who hijacked otherwise peaceful gatherings to stoke dissent. Tune into how they called into question the legitimacy of a democratic system; how they, too, held up an unread Bible; and how they reassured supporters by offering simple solutions to complex challenges. Pay attention to how a fascist takes advantage of a crisis — or several — to consolidate power and to sow fear and chaos. And remember how Hitler and Mussolini both insisted that they, alone, had the answers for all of these problems. As they say, history may not repeat itself. But sometimes it rhymes.

One thing I learned as I researched and produced this special is that there are pivotal moments in a nation’s history when good and caring people can stand up against the rising tide of anger and fear that can lead to fascism. Or they can be complacent and wake up having lost their freedom. Our country is not too far gone…yet. But these coming weeks and months would be a good time for anyone who remembers the fate of Europe in the 1940s to organize, speak out, and vote in a way that helps keep us off that course.

For starters, be sure you and your loved ones, friends, and neighbors are registered to vote. (And during a pandemic, consider requesting an absentee ballot.) https://vote.gov/

Many ask, “What can I do?” Here’s one answer: In response to the systemic racism woven into our democracy, and to let the murder of George Floyd inspire us to bring something positive to our troubled society, this month my company is donating $50,000 to Lawyers and Collars, an initiative spearheaded by Sojourners that is working to defend voter rights in states where people of color are targeted. The goal: to support 1,000 black pastors and their allies who are ready in key states to protect the vote. In Alabama, Florida, Georgia, Michigan, North Carolina, Ohio, and Pennsylvania, they will mobilize their congregations and communities. If you’d like to join us, with even just a small donation, you can do it here: sojo.net/LCRS

Those of us who have the privilege of traveling to Europe have been blessed with an opportunity to get to know other societies — including ones that have lived through fascism — and to learn from them. Let’s bring those lessons home, and let’s do our best to provide grassroots leadership, as we find a way to heal our fractured country — with compassion, empathy, and real progress.

Watch the one-hour special: The Story of Fascism in Europe.