“Au secours! Au secours!”

The year was 1993, and this was the cry that our Romanian French teacher had us practice as we, a group of international teenagers, sat in his classroom off the main hall of our lycée. We indulged his instruction, and gave out the half-hearted cry of “Help! Help!” as we wondered what passers by must be thinking of his intensive French classroom teachings.

It seemed silly to me at the time, but now I understand that there was value in what he was trying to do. He wanted us kids to be equipped with something, should we find ourselves alone and under duress while roaming the mean streets of Grenoble. I also remembered that one of the first phrases he taught us was “Fait gaffe!” or “Look out!” As it turns out, I never needed to use either of these phrases, but as an adult I now see that there was value in having some level of preparedness when navigating an uncertain world.

Anything can happen anywhere at any time. A number of high visibility press events as of late have most certainly taught us this fact. As humans I think we are always aware of this reality, but on the whole this never stops us from venturing into places that are both familiar and unchartered. There’s just so much in the known world to experience that makes it worth the gamble.

When you travel a lot, places tend to lose that mystic scariness that carries so much weight when they’re tied to a headline. Sure there is something to be said for prudence and situational awareness, but all the same, these things should not stop you from exploring altogether.

I recently made my way to one of the most humbling museums that I have ever visited.  It was a place that I knew little about— except for the fact that it now suffers notoriety for nothing that has to do with its collection of antiquities. Tragedy struck in March of 2015, and in the days since the numbers of visitors has plummeted to heartbreakingly low levels.

As I walked around and found my breath taken away by intricate compositions that lay beneath my slipper-covered sandals, I almost couldn’t decide what was more criminal: the fact that 24 people were massacred here, or the fact that such an important shrine to human history is now psychologically closed off to most of the world’s curious.

When you visit a place like Bardo and wander the world’s largest collection of mosaics, you can’t help but feel small and insignificant.  At the same time, you also can’t help but feel fortunate to have the opportunity to lock eyes with a Mona Lisa looking King Neptune that has absolutely no protective glass placed between visitor and tile. There is stuff on display here that predates Jesus Christ. And the state of preservation is incredible. When else in my life would I have had the chance to wander a place like this?

I appreciate that for some, traveling to places of relative uncertainty might breed some disquiet. But I’d argue that if they were in my shoes— occupying a life that places you closer to unfamiliar lands but at the same time equips you with a modicum of awareness— then you’d weigh your odds and opt to check out these places too.

Maybe it’s all relative. I consider the places I go to be miles away from all-out conflict zones. While threats persist and I don’t allow things like metal detectors to lull me into a sense of false security, I wager that in most locales, the general population is more or less looking to live just like you and me.

And when you look into the faces of the museum curators who proudly point out the highlights of an ancient museum, you understand that these are the folks who pay the price for cold-blooded event that shake the planet to its core.

It’s very possible that in the conduct of life, I will one day find myself face to face with my maker because I opted to wade into something that was ill-advised at the Vegas betting table. It doesn’t matter. Wherever I go, I feel as ready as I can be. You learn your environment, teach yourself a few key phrases or survival techniques, but ultimately you must decide how you want to live your own life.

What I really wanted to do in this posting was show you a bunch of photos that I took while at the Bardo Museum because at the end of the day, the Tunisian people are incredibly proud of this place, and they have every right to feel this way.