Much of this chronicle - perhaps, it may seem, too much - has dealt with the difficulties of getting from place to place. But that seems to me unavoidable for it is the preoccupation of two-thirds of the traveler's waking hours, and the matter of all his nightmares. It is by crawling on the face of it that one learns a country; by the problems of transport that its geography becomes a reality and its inhabitants real people. Were one to be levitated on a magic carpet and whisked overnight from place to place, one would see all that was remarkable but it would be a very superficial acquaintance, and, in the same way, if one leaves the reader out of one's confidence, disavowing all the uncertainties of the route, the negotiations, projects and frustrations, making of oneself one of those rare exemplary dragonmans who disguise every trace of effort and present themselves before their employers with a plan completely tabulated, hampers packed, conveyances assembled, servants in attendance, one may show them some pretty spectacles and relate some instructive anecdotes, but one will not have given them what was originally offered when one was engaged - a share in the experience of travel, for these checks and hesitations constitute the genuine flavor.
- Evelyn Waugh, Ninety-Two Days, pp.525-6 in Waugh Abroad
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