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I deeply dislike travels. They are all superficial, and sometimes as vulgar as failed dreams. by Camil Petrescu (1894-1957)

Choreographer The arts are long voyages of the spiritual in the material reality, unleashing the imaginary, freeing the phantasms, exploiting the miracle of representation. Without being as rich as the other artistic branches in events meant to shape its history, the dance

Travelers may be (actually, have been) classified along various criteria. For instance, there are those who, like Emil Racovita or Dumitru Hincu, to cite only a scientist and a philologist, before going on a trip, document themselves extensively, and their joy of digging

Sire,Dear Gentlemen and Ladies,The Somalis' Country, of which I have the honour of relating, stretches along the entire East Horn of Africa and is called Bar-as-Somal in the Somali language. The Somalis belong to the Mohammedan religion of the Shafi'ite sect and

We are four university professors, invited here in the year 2000 (we have started to use this number with a certain panache) for conferences and for negotiations concerning a possible world congress of the International Society for Comparative Literature – one from Germany,

excerptWe arrived on the right riverside of the Congo, in front of the bridge, which the engineers could not even imagine; a general aaah went out of their chests. In addition, at the same time, after casting me glances of imputation, they burst into formidable laughers.

excerptTo put it in a nutshell, there are three races living in Congo today:The Pygmies, scattered all over the territory and on the verge of extinction;Nuba, the invaders who live in the north – and, finallyThe Bantu, the most numerous. Several distinct and independent

excerptAbout the Earth's Crust A loud knock on the door of the cabin disturbs my sweet morning sleep. Gibrelterra!… Gibrelterra!… I rub my eyes sleepily and, without understanding anything, I ask stroppily: what is it? what's happened?Gibrelterra!…We can

To me, any journey represents, first of all, an intellectual exploit.  Olé! España by Adrian Marino

The summon sounded imperative, I had positive interests, thank goodness – I was to receive by the hands of professor Cioranescu the second volume of his memoirs - this, as he had no intention of coming to the country this year – moreover, my curiosity was not inconsiderable.

excerpt In 1846, M. Kogalniceanu travels to France and Spain (Notes sur l'Espagne). The recollection of Moldavia lingers with him at the opposite end of the continent. I have studied Spain a great deal, he writes to I. Ghica, a very curious country whose language,

Lisbon, a town whose name comes from the mythical traveler Ulysses – so they say – , illustrated in the Middle Ages by so many navigators and explorers curious and eager for adventure, shows to the visitor first its drowsy side. It is true that I first visited it on