The Magic of Globes

Bumi, mundo, món, بسیطة, दिुनया, erde, monde, 世界. Indonesian, Spanish, Catalan, Arabic, Hindi, German, French, Chinese. Seven languages and one meaning: WORLD. A term used to indicate the spherical orb we call home. We can thank the ancient Greeks for our current representation of the earth. Before their time, humanity thought the earth was flat and modeled it so. Maps remind us of that long-ago time. Enter the globe. It models the earth as it truly is, bringing a sense of realism and grandeur to anyone who beholds the miniature. The rulers of the 16th century must have felt the same wonder as me when looking at one; they were given to monarchs and sovereigns as symbols of power and authority. And just as those kings and queens must have gazed at the globe and thought on all they owned, we can look at it and ponder all we share.

My personal globe has a vintage look. The strips of paper pasted onto the globular frame are not perfectly aligned. This has caused the side of Alaska to disappear. Was it covered by a piece of sea? All the lands portrayed are colored by either a tiger orange or a lime green. The saturated hues start on the outlines of the nations and gradually fade into a sandy tan color. Islands resembling small gray shells are dispersed throughout the ocean beach. What undiscovered sea life glides beneath these sand-dollar isles? In between Russia and Alaska and above the words NORTH PACIFIC OCEAN there is a decorative seal design symmetrically colored with crimson and chartreuse. A compass that reminds me of the sun or some other cosmic star points with its rays north, towards the United States of America, south, towards the Pitcairn Islands (before this moment, I did not know those existed), east, towards Nicaragua, and west, towards the Philippines. It floats in the South Pacific Ocean just above the equator. This humble symbol guided the explorers of old and still guides us today, through more advanced methods. It tells us where we are in the world, and isn’t that what we all want? To find our place on this spinning swirling planet?

As I continue to look at my globe, I notice that all the continents and islands fit together. Every piece of land looks like it belongs to another. Why is this? Let me tell you a story. At one time long ago, when the world was born, all of the continents and isles were connected and lived in harmony. The ocean was their cradle and Pangea was their name. Then, one day they decided it was time for them all to go their own ways. So they dropped their last name and kept their first. Sometimes I like to look at a globe and imagine where they connected when they were one big family. Were the sand-grains of Micronesia in Japan or Mexico? Did Spain and Morocco ever meet? This is what I wonder when I see the globe on my desk. But this is not the only thought a globe brings to mind.

When I consider the countries and cultures studded around the globe, my heart swells in my chest. It strains to be big enough to love every nuance of every culture on earth. My eyes long to see the colors that somehow take on a new life in these places. My ears want to hear the heartbeat of all the nations in this dazzling world, the song of languages other than my own, and the sound of the wind moving through a foreign landscape. A globe can help me do this. My eyes dart around the nations. I am riding on the back of my dad’s motorcycle in Bali as we go to buy rambutan at the market. I am watching rainbows of tropical fish swim through the coral of the Great Barrier Reef. I am listening to the melody of the Italian language as I see “La Boheme” at the Sydney Opera House. I am walking through a small-town Spanish feria, fascinated by the multi-colored, extravagant flamenco dresses worn by almost every woman there. I am tasting a jamón bocadillo at La Boqueria Market in Barcelona. I am sitting in the back of a motorhome in New Zealand, watching mountains and fields of sheep pass by. I am staring at the Taj Mahal, in awe over the sheer magnificence. I am on the peak of the Eiffel Tower, studying Paris from the top of the world. I am strolling through the halls of the Louvre, amazed at the volume and quality of human artistic expression. I am viewing the changing of the guard at Buckingham Palace and thinking about what it would be like to be a queen. I am bargaining for a cashmere scarf in the markets of Morocco. I am standing on the Great Wall, imagining it continuing for 13,000 miles. I am back in Boise, sitting at my desk, looking at a globe.

Not only does a globe remind me of my travels, it inspires me to travel more. Leonardo da Vinci said, “ Knowledge of the past and of the places of the earth is the ornament and food of the mind of man.” Traveling helps me to know both of those things. My eyes wander over the little world in front of me. They rest on Brazil, Ethiopia, Greece, Ireland, Israel, Italy, Jamaica, Japan, Jordan, Kenya, Puerto Rico, Sweden, Thailand, Ukraine. The images that arise when I see these dots on the globe are not as clear as the ones I see when I have been somewhere. Actually traveling to a place is similar to focusing a photograph. Before the picture is focused, you may just have a fuzzy idea of the subject. But after, everything makes sense. The scattered colors come together and create a finished work of art. These places that I have not been, I see as opportunities to focus a photo, to see it in its full glory. As the pictures come into focus, they form a collage that is even more breathtaking than the individual pictures. They all combine to form one world, one human race, one section of the galaxy. I want my desk globe to be my own personal masterpiece of memories.

But what is a globe, really? It is a cardboard frame with strips of dyed paper glued on. The paper comes from trees and so does cardboard. Ink is essentially a mixture of chemicals. The paper is colored in certain patterns and shapes. Some of these shapes are small and black. These are the letters making up words. Some colored areas are larger and some are smaller. There is a horizontal line slicing through the middle of the patterns. It is held up by a metal base, which causes the globe to resemble a trophy. It is awe-inspiring to think how much meaning a conglomeration of cardboard, paper, chemicals, and metal can have. The object itself is not as significant as the thoughts it conjures. That is how it is with almost everything we consider special. They have almost no material worth, but they have worth in our own minds and hearts. These are the special possessions we should treasure forever. The gems that remind us of our past, present, and future. The items that have real value to us. And the comforting thing is that even if our treasured objects are lost, stolen, broken, or fade away, their spirit and heart remains. We remember what they stood for, why they were as valuable as diamonds, and that is what matters. I love the globe not because of what it is, but what it means to me.

A globe is an anthology containing countless sagas of memories, illustrations of cultures, and fairy tales of unseen lands; the more I travel the symbol’s inspiration, the more poetry the globe gains. When I am ninety-nine, seated in a rocking chair, perusing a novel, and I glance at the globe on my desk, I hope tableaus, scripts, legends, words, anecdotes, and conversations flood my aging mind and renew its youth.