Throughout this pandemic, I have been traveling a lot without leaving my house.
When I head to the basement, an audiobook of Ian Rankin's, In the House of Lies transports me to Edinburgh. After hearing James McPherson read while I do laundry, my thoughts are refashioned into words with a Scottish lilt.
During afternoons in the garden, Leonardo Padura's novel, The Man Who Loved Dogs, whisks me through Europe, Cuba and Mexico as I follow the lives of Leon Trotsky and his assassin Ramón Mercader. So far, I have felt the bone-numbing cold of winter in Kazakhstan, the brutality of the Spanish Civil War, and the depressions of exile in Turkey and Norway. Whenever I need comfort, I go to Botswana with Alexander McCall Smith's Mma Ramotswe series, where traditionally built women are wise and caring, and the world seems a much safer place.
Netflix facilitates my evening wanderings: I have been immersed in Germany's Weimar Republic through Babylon Berlin, visited Northern Ireland during The Troubles with the Derry Girls, and experienced Cuba after the collapse of the Soviet Union in Four Seasons in Havana. All three have lingered in my memory long after viewing.
There are so many more possibilities for future travels...Ghana, London, Shanghai or South Korea? There are piles of books on my nightstand and movies to access. Best of all, there is no need to book a flight or get a passport!
I'm Frances Jaeger, and that is my perspective.