 Dana Chandler, co-owner of Family Tree Forestry in South Carolina, finds peace in the natural world. Do you love your job? Are you 100% sure you chose the right profession? If you’re a lumberjack, chances are you’ll answer with a resounding “yes!” Because according to the US Bureau of Labor Statistics, people who work in agriculture, logging, and forestry have the highest levels of self-reported happiness and meaning of any major industry — and the lowest stress to boot. “Even on your worst day,” says Dana Chandler, co-owner of Family Tree Forestry in South Carolina, “the wind’ll blow and you’ll inhale a familiar scent — that pine sap — and it’ll just take you to a place of peace instantly … The forest is therapy.” How many of us can honestly say we feel that way about our workplace? Well, I can, because I’m a travel writer, and my workplace is filled with quirky neighborhoods, Mediterranean comfort food, and colorful nutters. But what about other people? (I almost wrote “normal people,” but hey, I’m normal. Yes, I am!) The survey shows the next happiest industries are real estate, construction, and management, including waste management. Somehow I don't see those professions particularly blissful, do you?  This brings up the question of just how much can we really trust any survey based on asking folks to describe their own emotional wellbeing. Author Malcom Gladwell says that deep down, we don’t always realize what’s going on in our own hearts and minds — or even our own tastebuds. “If I asked all of you, for example, in this room, what you want in a coffee, you know what you'd say? Every one of you would say, ‘I want a dark, rich, hearty roast.’ It's what people always say when you ask them. ‘What do you like?’ ‘Dark, rich, hearty roast!’ What percentage of you actually like a dark, rich, hearty roast? According to Howard [Moskowitz, a prominent market researcher] somewhere between 25 and 27 percent of you. Most of you like milky, weak coffee. But you will never, ever say to someone who asks you what you want that ‘I want a milky, weak coffee.’” Humans have a natural tendency to say what others want to hear and to present ourselves in the best possible light. This may account for the survey’s results about non-work activities, in which the majority virtuously asserted they were happiest at church, the gym, and helping others. Wow, we’re a nation of Mother Teresas who like to keep fit. Or maybe we just want to think we are.  “To know thyself,” said Socrates, “is the beginning of wisdom.” But if we can’t accurately identify our own coffee preferences or how we like to spend our leisure time, what chance do we have of understanding ourselves — or anybody else? How can we hope to connect with others on a meaningful basis? The first step is finding ways to move conversations from casual chat to deeper dialogue. Meeting someone for the first time, you naturally ask them about themselves, but are you framing the right questions? Photographer Koreen Odiney, whose job (like mine) often involves talking with strangers, asks things like “What has been keeping you sane lately?” and “How do you describe the feeling of being loved?” “Questions,” she says, “force people to examine the assumptions they make about each other. We all create stories based on first impressions, but typically we don’t go a step further and scrutinize them.” Having tweaked her questions for years, in 2018 she created the card game We’re Not Really Strangers. [Try a few sample questions and then see the game in action.]  We're Not Really Strangers uses questions to inspire more interesting conversations. In long-term relationships, it’s tempting to assume we already know everything that's going through our partner’s mind. We don’t. There are always topics we haven't explored; just last month I discovered Rich’s favorite color is green. And everyone’s constantly evolving; he certainly didn’t have a pigeon fetish when we first met. To make sure we check in with each other properly, we often organize date nights. During lockdown, we went all out, using themed date nights to preserve what was left of our sanity. They gave us something to look forward to and a chance to get creative with food, décor, entertainment — and conversational topics. We spent many hours and glasses of wine discussing 36 Questions: How to Fall in Love and, for more strenuous mental exercise, 255 Philosophical Questions to Spark Deep Critical Thinking. You’ll be glad to hear the younger generation is keeping the tradition alive. Rosie and Ryan Piper post TicTok videos of their date nights. (Don’t get excited — not the X-rated parts, just the social stuff). They organize two dates a month, one at home, one out in the world, alternating who is responsible for planning each one. Their dates have included golf, a pumpkin patch, and cooking Italian food after a trip to Europe. “On one date they got matching tattoos,” I told Rich. He just rolled his eyes.  OK, it's cute, but is it us? Somehow I think not. Even without the matching tattoo option, there are plenty of interesting activities listed on sites such as “100 Best Romantic Date Ideas” and the budget-conscious 10 Cheap Dates That Don’t Suck, which in these inflationary times is apparently known as “infla-dating.” Cheap dates are fun. I know, because Rich and I have done lots of them over the years, visiting museums, bookstores, parks, pub trivia nights, and other places that give us plenty to talk about. I was aghast when one young blogger advised a date centered around cleaning the apartment. No, please don’t! Scrubbing plumbing fixtures is extremely unlikely to leave anyone feeling amorous. Although to be fair, according to Rachel Needle of the Modern Sex Therapy Institutes, “Research shows that heterosexual couples who share household chores have sex more often.” Yes, but I’ll bet they don’t have it right after a “cleaning date.” I can just imagine Rich’s face if I was ever foolish enough to propose that as a theme. We've also enjoyed low-cost outings via Meetup, a free, online platform listing thousands of small groups formed by neighbors with common interests in everything from conventional pastimes (dog walking, guided meditation, salsa dancing, books, wine, etc.) to the esoteric (e.g., UFOs , pigeon racing, and cryptozoology, the study of creatures that may not exist, like Bigfoot). The last Meetup Rich and I attended was a free drive-in movie marathon of all the King Kong movies. Now that’s entertainment. .  At this Meetup event in Novato, California, admission to the drive-in was free, and we had a blast watching the classic old versions of King Kong. And we won a reproduction of the 1933 poster in the intermission raffle. Does it get better that that? I don’t pretend to know whether being a lumberjack is really the best job in America. But I believe we’re all seeking the feeling Dana Chandler described: the breath of fresh air, the serenity of feeling at home on the planet, the keen awareness of life flourishing all around us. How can we capture such moments, if we’re not lucky enough to work in the woods? “Pay attention,” says Susan Sontag. “It's all about paying attention. Attention is vitality. It connects you with others. It makes you eager. Stay eager.” There’s nothing like a date night to a secret location (even if it’s just a dive bar set up in the living room) to inspire that sense of delighted anticipation that reminds us it's fun to be alive. And now, after all this talk of dating, I just had to share this very short video of the mating dance of the Hooded Grebe. Obviously we humans could take some pointers from them. THAT WAS FUN. WANT MORE? Subscribe to receive notices when I publish my weekly posts. Just send me an email and I'll take it from there. [email protected] And for those who may be wondering, yes, I'm still under the weather, Thanks for all your good wishes, and I am getting better, just very, very slowly.  My favorite chair, where I have spent many, many hours lately So it’s been a quiet couple of weeks for me, hunkered down in my favorite armchair coming to grips with the fact I’ve contracted this ghastly long-term respiratory illness that’s going around. (Note to self: make a contribution to a reforestation program to compensate for all the Kleenex.) Luckily the laryngitis phase has worn off, so I’m talking and Zooming again. Rich has been waiting on me hand and foot, propping up my strength with hearty platters of swordfish with capers, chicken in lemon sauce, and salmon pesto. (I could get used to this!) And he’s been meeting amigos in cafés so he can bring me all the latest news and gossip. As it turns out, chatting with friends is not only fun, it’s one of the healthiest activities we can pursue, and we all need to do more of it.  OK, I realize in 2021 the pandemic was skewing the figures, but are we seeing a trend here? “Feeling lonely,” says empathy expert Leanne Butterworth, “is as bad for our health as smoking fifteen cigarettes a day. It increases our chances of dying early by 26 percent.” Yikes! What can we do? “The antidote to loneliness is not the number of people we know but the quality of our interactions. And the foundation of strong relationships is healthy empathy.” My old friend Merriam-Webster says, “empathy involves actively sharing in the emotional experience of the other person.” The key word here is “actively.” Empathy goes beyond saying, “Our thoughts and prayers are with you.” That’s sympathy, which we use to distance ourselves from the other person’s problem, often trivializing the issue (“At least you don’t have Covid!”) and talking about ourselves (“Wait till you hear how sick I was last month!”). At its best, empathy manifests itself as altruism, leading to everyday heroism such as Street Veterinarians Treat Pets of LA’s Homeless. Or the heartwarming Railway Worker Rescues Raccoon After the Hair on Its Butt Got Frozen to the Tracks. (Ouch!)  Rocky, shown here re-evaluating his life choices as the locomotive approaches. Luckily railway worker Neil Mullis spotted the raccoon and set him free. Empathy requires us to recognize another’s misery and connect with it. Sound daunting? You can up your game with a practice session at The Empathy Museum. Their pop-up experiences include “A Mile in My Shoes,” where you literally stroll around in someone else’s footwear while listening to their story on headphones, and “The Human Library,” where instead of borrowing a book, you borrow a “living book” — a person skilled in the art of lively conversation.  We all talk about "walking a mile in someone else's shoes," but how many of us actually do it? Since it began in 2015 the Empathy Museum has popped up in 57 locations around the world. That got me thinking. Are some countries more empático than others? The University of Michigan did a massive study about this in 2016, and I found an article outlining the results. As I was floating along on a warm sea of such comforting phrases as “compassion for others” and “form deeper bonds” and “support one another through difficult times,” I was jolted by the appearance of this link. Read: The First U.S. Funeral Home That Turns Bodies Into Compost Is Now Open What a buzzkill! I believe that online magazine’s research bots ought to try to demonstrate a little more empathy for the sensitivities of human readers, don’t you? OK, yes, I did click on it, and I think you’ll share my sentiments about the “ecological deathcare” offered by the company Recompose. However admirable the goal, I just cannot warm to the idea of spending the afterlife moldering in a compost heap.  My final resting place? Say it ain't so! But back to the study findings. In the survey of 104,000 people, the University of Michigan identified these as the top ten most empathetic nations.
Wow, not the list I was expecting. Of course, this information is seven years old. Is the US as chummy today as it was when this data was collected, prior to the 2016 election? Seven of the ten least comradely countries were in Eastern Europe; how might Ukraine, for instance, rank now?  Are we a less civil society today? What about boosting our own personal empathy quotient? Roman Krznaric, the Australian public philosopher who founded the Empathy Museum, says it starts with these six habits.
About this last habit he says, “We also need to empathize with people whose beliefs we don’t share or who may be ‘enemies’ in some way. If you are a campaigner on global warming, for instance, it may be worth trying to step into the shoes of oil company executives — understanding their thinking and motivations.” This reminded me of a moment ten years ago in Munich, when I had steeled myself to visit the former concentration camp Dachau. Another American visitor at the camp told me, “I’m here with four other women, but they thought Dachau would be too depressing for their last day of vacation, so they decided to go shopping instead.”  Shoppers I saw in Munich during my visit there in 2013 My mind instantly flooded with snarky thoughts about the kind of person who would prioritize buying cheap fake lederhosen and Oktoberfest t-shirts over this life-changing experience. Afterwards, writing about it, I didn’t want to sound like Cruella de Vil so I groped for a kinder (if less sincere) way to frame the moment. And then it hit me: those four women stayed away because they were, like me — like everyone with any sense — terrified of the place. They were simply being more honest about it. I was in no position to judge. I often think about that moment when I’m confronted with attitudes that seem particularly pig-headed, harebrained, cuckoo, or dumbass (and I say that with no disrespect to the animal kingdom). As a writer, I am blessed with a pretty ambitious imagination, and now I make a special effort to look at news stories from all sides. Like the sad tale of David Riston, found in his Maryland home dead of snakebite, alone except for his 124 pet serpents. As the Darwin Award story “124 Snakes Seek Less Annoying Housemate” put it, “Accidental? Did anyone ask the snake about its motives?” As you can tell, being housebound has its compensations. I’ve had plenty of time to browse through Google’s quirkier tidbits. The long days of peace and quiet are rather soothing after the mad bustle of the holidays. I’m catching up on my reading. And I’m getting plenty of empathy from friends who’ve survived this monster illness and assure me that yes, I will get well … eventually. Best of all, people keep sending silly stuff to cheer me up, in keeping with Voltaire's belief that "The art of medicine consists of amusing the patient while nature cures the disease." Amen to that! Many thanks to my friend Maer for sharing snails in the slimelight. For more, and the must-see videos: Snails Paint the Town in Miniature Scenes Crafted by Aleia Murawski and Sam Copeland THAT WAS FUN. WANT MORE? Subscribe to receive notices when I publish my weekly posts. Just send me an email and I'll take it from there. [email protected] YOU MIGHT ALSO ENJOY 
Orlando's fake Eiffel Tower at Epcot theme park
Hot news! Orlando, Florida has now replaced Paris as “the world’s most disappointing city.” Congratulations, Orlando! It’s not easy to beat Paris at anything. For years I’ve been reading about “Paris syndrome,” a form of extreme culture shock experienced by visitors who expect the movie version of the city — quaint, charming, and full of great art, marvelous food, intelligent conversation, and sexy side glances from attractive strangers — and encounter a somewhat less adorable reality. “A small percentage of those who venture to The City of Light experience ‘Paris syndrome," reports LiveScience, “a psychological condition with symptoms including nausea, vomiting, hallucinations and increased heart rate.” 
Now a brash American city has toppled Paris from this particular perch, according to a 2022 study of 826,000 TripAdvisor reviews. The goal was “to find out which city is most guilty of not meeting tourists’ expectations.” Wait, what? Cities are now supposed to feel obliged to meet the Hollywood stereotypes of out-of-town guests? And for crying out loud, what exactly were Orlando’s visitors anticipating, if not a tourist trap? Paris? As Rich said, when I told him all this, “Let’s face it, you don’t go to Orlando for reality.” 
And here we get to the seriously worrying part of the story: the casual assumption that travel destinations should be predictable, with everything organized for our amusement in what some call “curated reality.” Ten years ago, when we were still adapting to living online, Cyborgology wrote, “Social media allows us to essentially ‘curate reality,’ cultivating an environment in which we generally see what we want to see.” By now that expectation has spread so deeply into all facets of our lives that some travelers are demanding the same predictability from cities they visit. Where’s the fun in that? For me, the whole point of travel is to experience the glorious rush of surprise that comes with stumbling upon something completely unexpected, such as Albania’s warm hospitality, the zingy coffee culture of Greece, and Sarajevo’s 500-year-old public restroom (which is nicer than you’d think!). 
The sign explains this public WC was given to the people of Sarajevo by their Ottoman ruler in 1530, destroyed in 1992 during the siege, and rebuilt in 2001.
Luckily, most of the world hasn't undergone a makeover to satisfy the tourist industry. I’ve been to sections of Paris — yep, Paris, France! — that are delightfully quirky, and I have no doubt there are plenty in Orlando, too. They’re just not conveniently located right next to Disney World or Epcot. So how do we find these great experiences? I’m glad you asked. When selecting destinations, get skeptical. When you read “fairy-tale atmosphere,” “feels lost in a time warp,” and “the quaint, small-town Europe you’ve always dreamed of” your Spidey-Sense should start tingling. In 2013, having read those words, I visited the medieval town Český Krumlov in the Czech Republic. At first glance, it was enchanting. Meticulously restored ancient buildings lining winding, cobblestone streets leading up to a 13th century castle — what’s not to like? Then I noticed the garish signs protruding from every possible surface, shouting at me, "Try the mead!" and "Enjoy two-for-one drinks at a real medieval alehouse!" The only townspeople I saw wore cotton-polyester folk costumes to promote ye olde souvenirs. The town was no longer a living community but frozen in time, a propped-up relic as scary as Bette Davis in What Ever Happened to Baby Jane?
Bette Davis played a former child star who couldn't let go of the past in this spine-chilling 1962 thriller that launched the subgenre of horror films known as "psycho-biddy."
Of course, tourism brings in useful revenue, so it’s only practical for cities to welcome paying guests and adapt to their (reasonable) needs and wishes. Spain, for instance, has devoted millions to improving the quality of its roads and restrooms. And I, for one, am deeply grateful. When I first moved to Seville, lots of older bars only had men’s comfort stations, because during Franco’s dictatorship women didn’t get out much. (Don’t get me started.) If I had to answer the call of nature at one of my early hangouts, Los Claveles, I had to discreetly express my request to one of the owner/bartenders, who would summon his grandmother from the kitchen, and she would escort me to the tiny cubicle reserved for female needs in the far back. When a proper ladies’ room was finally installed, I was cheering. 
Los Claveles
Fortunately, like many ancient cities, Seville knows how to adapt to changing times without losing its character. It remains vibrant and is unlikely ever to degenerate into a Český Krumlov -style backdrop designed for what the tourist industry now calls “instagrammable leisure.” I've learned the secret to enjoying anyplace is simply to pay attention, so you don’t miss the small, interesting moments happening all around. For instance, last Saturday Rich and I were strolling through Seville during an unusually dense and chilly fog. “Hypothermia is setting in,” I muttered through chattering teeth. “Let’s duck into the next café.” This turned out to be the Bar Algabeño, one of the most delightfully unremarkable spots in Seville. No tourists. No hipsters. No angst-ridden youths with eye-popping tattoos. No trendy makeover or amusing napkins. Just a simple, old-school café-bar where a few neighbors were sitting quietly having a coffee or glass of anis liqueur to “reanimate themselves” (as the Spanish like to say) on a quiet Saturday. 
Bar Algabeño
As I sat down, I noticed an elderly Spaniard in a green jacket standing hesitantly, staring about as if unsure what to do next. One of the two camareros came around from behind the bar and gently escorted him to a table, while the other followed with a glass of beer and some chips. The old man settled into his corner with the contented air of one who is prepared to linger indefinitely in cozy, familiar surroundings. A sandwich soon appeared on the table in front of him as if by magic. And I thought, this is what I love about Seville: the kindness, compassion, the sense of community, and the complete lack of judgement about a guy in his eighties having a beer with lunch. “This is what I’m talking about,” I said to Rich. “This is the opposite of curated reality.” 
Rich warming up with a coffee at Bar Algabeño.
Nobody’s ever going to be disappointed by the Bar Algabeño, because we have no pre-conceived notions of what it should offer, beyond a place to sit and sip something and watch the world go by. It will never trend on Instagram. No one will accuse it of “staged authenticity” — another pet peeve of dissatisfied travelers who apparently want their predictability so perfectly seamless they don’t notice it's being managed. No one will ever criticize the Bar Algabeño for being guilty of not meeting expectations. And let’s face it, if Paris doesn't measure up, there’s a pretty good chance our expectations are at fault, not the City of Lights. Not the city of which Oscar Wilde wrote, “When good Americans die, they go to Paris.” So although I never make formal New Year’s resolutions, I've renewed my determination not to settle for curated reality, staged authenticity, or instagrammable leisure. Especially on our upcoming Nutters Tour. The world is full of wonderfully unpredictable, hair-brained, off-the-wall places, and every one of them is on my list. 
“You don't love someone for their looks, or their clothes, or for their fancy car, but because they sing a song only you can hear.” ― Oscar Wilde
THAT WAS FUN. WANT MORE? Subscribe to receive notices when I publish my weekly posts. Just send me an email and I'll take it from there. [email protected] YOU MIGHT ALSO ENJOY I thought I’d discovered all Spain’s quirky year-end traditions — red underwear and twelve grapes for luck, lentil soup for wealth, and plenty of bubbly for fun — until someone said, “Hey, look, Cristina Pedroche is about to take off her cloak.” It was minutes to midnight, and the TV screen showed a young actress enveloped in a bulky white cape. “Every New Year’s Eve she does a big reveal of her outfit,” someone else explained. “Each dress shows more skin.” All heads swiveled toward the screen as Pedroche struggled to unsnap her outer garment. When she finally shed it, what she wore underneath left me gobsmacked. And bewildered. What was that white thing splattered across her chest like a bug on a windshield? Why was she wearing painted-on white gloves? The only thing we could tell with absolute certainty was that she was not wearing red underwear. In fact… While we were debating whether she was wearing any underwear at all, I reflected on the goofy ways we humans like to ring in a fresh year. Millions of us woo Lady Luck with outlandish rituals: throwing furniture out the window, smashing plates on a neighbor’s doorstep, placing a carp’s scale in our wallet. Of course, I’m way too modern to hold with any of that superstitious nonsense. But hey, I forgot my red underwear on December 31, 2019, and look what a disaster 2020 turned out to be. I’ll never take that chance again!  I still can't believe I forgot my bragas rojas in 2019. Throughout December they're on display in every store in Seville. But could there be other, slightly more practical ways to hedge our bets? Oh yes! In fact, there are at least ten well-researched actions we can take to enhance our chances of living well according to the people who teach the Science of Happiness Course at the University of California Berkeley. Here are some of their suggestions.
 Susie Garza displays the debit card on which she received a $500 monthly stipend as part of a pilot universal basic income program in Stockton, CA. Photo: Rich Pedroncelli/AP Let’s take a closer look at that last point. Yesterday I learned the US spends a whopping $869 billion a year on non-medical public welfare benefits — and 97% of that money goes to operational costs. I’m going to spitball a nutty idea: what would happen if we just gave some of that money directly to those in need? Turns out I’m not the first to think of this; experiments have been going on for decades. And they've been successful. You won’t be surprised to hear a cash infusion makes struggling families happier and healthier. More unexpectedly, fears that most folks would squander the money in foolishness and debauchery have proved unfounded. “A sheaf of studies,” reports Reuters, ”show positive results. Participants in Stockton's program were more likely to be working full-time, while participants in Jackson were more likely to pay their bills on time. One survey found that recipients spent less on alcohol and tobacco than they did before.” It’s comforting to know that wealth redistribution can be managed successfully. Especially now that AI is proving it can take over so many of our jobs. And that brings me to some very hopeful planetary news. But first, a pop quiz.  If you answered 10% you’re not only right, you did better than 92% of those polled, including Nobel-Prize winners and global policy makers. Social scientist Hans Rosling spent his career factchecking our world, asking 12,000 people these kinds of questions. He was shocked to discover that nearly everyone gets them very, very wrong. We’re all operating from deeply held misconceptions about how humans are doing. (Don’t panic, we’re actually doing better than we think. I’ll get to that in a moment.) Our perspective is skewed because it’s based on data we learned in college from teachers educated ten, twenty, or thirty years earlier. Many of our most essential “known facts” haven’t been true since 1980 or possibly 1965. Our knowledge is updated randomly with media stories feeding our natural human appetite for drama.  “Every group of people I ask,” said Rosling in his book Factfulness, “thinks the world is more frightening, more violent, and more hopeless — in short, more dramatic — than it really is.” For instance, what percentage of the world population do you think lives in low-income countries? The average guess (from Earth’s best and brightest): 59%. The actual number: 9%. Chimpanzees randomly tapping bananas marked A, B, and C would score better.  Of course, to be fair, chimpanzees have the benefit of never reading Weekly World News headlines while standing in the supermarket line. When we do hear positive news, it doesn’t fit the framework of our inner narrative. Two hundred years ago, 85% of the world population lived in extreme poverty. In 1980 it was 40% and today it’s 10%. That's a triumph the entire world should be celebrating. But feeling good about it makes us uncomfortable, as if it implies we’re OK with 800 million people still subsisting on the verge of starvation. And then another horrifying headline comes along, and we’re convinced all over again that we’re sliding fast into full-blown dystopia. “Enough with the doom and gloom!” admonishes NY Times columnist Nicholas Kristof. “Our planet may be in better shape than you think. Human beings have a cognitive bias toward bad news (keeping us alert and alive), and we journalists reflect that: We report on planes that crash, not planes that land. We highlight disasters, setbacks, threats and deaths... But it’s also important to acknowledge the gains that our brains (and we journalists) are often oblivious to — if only to remind ourselves that progress is possible when we put our shoulder to it. Onward!” OK, I’m in. So what can we do to help the world — and ourselves? UC Berkeley happiness experts suggest it’s all about connection and compassion, and the best place to start is that first bullet point above: appreciating the little things. To help with this, they’ve created a Happiness Calendar; I’ve taped January to my kitchen cupboard so Rich and I see all day. It’s already led to some interesting discussions.  Jumping ahead to January 10, I feel the need to make amends. I started this post with snarky remarks about Pedroche’s outfit. Since then I’ve learned she wore it to honor refugees. The top is the dove of peace with an olive branch. The painted hands signify the rejection of violence. The nearly invisible skirt hasn’t yet been explained in the press; maybe it symbolizes bandage gauze or the sheer madness of war. My point is: I’m sorry I was disrespectful, Cristina! It was all in a good gauze. I mean cause. And I’ll certainly tune in next year to see your reveal. In fact Rich has voted to make it an annual tradition. FEELING BETTER ABOUT THE FUTURE? I THINK WE ALL ARE! HERE'S SOME MORE FUN STUFF: WANT MORE?
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