The two girls could have been sisters, just out of school, sixteen and seventeen in their first jobs, with clever smiling faces bright with ambition and optimism.  They had grown up in a new world and seemed eager to make the most of its opportunities, using their language skills to launch into lives that their parents and grandparents wouldn’t recognize.  I think of them first when I remember traveling through Ukraine two years ago.
            Life wasn’t perfect, but we were impressed by the hope and energy we discovered there.  I remember young parents romping with their kids on Sunday afternoon in a Kiev park, taking photographs with their mobile phones.  The new society was harder for older generations, but they hadn’t given up.  I remember the robust older women, red-cheeked in their kerchiefs, selling lottery tickets or family heirlooms, sweeping and raking, doing what they needed to, missing the old ways, but admitting that the new way was better for younger people.  
             For decades, the ancient land of the Ukraine struggled to be free and independent.  Finally, it was, although the road was bumpy.  Then, last year, everything changed again.  The Crimea and much of the eastern part of the country were invaded by Russia.  People were migrating east or west, depending on their loyalties.  The places where in 2013 we chatted with local people now saw citizens facing off with police and military.  Even now, when life there seems calmer, violence still is a possibility.  Has the door opened or closed?  And for whom?  The Ukraine is one of many countries we’ve visited where the people once again seem to be caught in the revolving door of change—often change they don’t want.
            As I’ve traveled the world, I’ve been touched by how warm and friendly people are—and in countries and places we might not have expected it.  When I’ve told friends at home where we’re going, often their first reaction has been: Is it safe?  Not only were we safe, but we were welcomed and treated as if we were friends. 
          “We don’t always like what your government does,” people told us, “but we like Americans.  Tell your friends to come.  We want them to know us and we want to know them.” 
         This was true years ago in the Soviet Union, as well as in Communist Poland, East Germany, and Romania.  Later, it was true in Syria, Jordan and Iran.  When we went to Burma, Turkey, and Cuba, the people we met and got to know were equally friendly.  Most recently, it was true in Ukraine.  Governments and political leaders may be paranoid and have their own agendas, but the folks we met day to day were friendly and open—at least, as open as they dared be under the watchful eyes of their governments. 
          During these years, we felt that doors were opening and closing both behind us and in front of us.  We had to be alert, but never were afraid.  Periods of change can be fascinating, exciting times to visit countries, but we never would have expected the storm of destruction that has swept over Syria, a land with the friendliest, warmest people we ever encountered.  Now, thousands of Syrians are fleeing the violence, their homes in ruins and the country’s great treasures, such as ancient Palmyra, destroyed.. 
            The ruined buildings and rebuilt areas we saw in Lebanon in 2010 revealed the horror that rained down on that little country not long before.  Now, Lebanon is struggling with masses of exiles seeking safety and is wondering if more violence is heading their way.  Militants are trying to push their brand of change onto Turkey and Egypt and threatening even Paris and London.  We’re glad that we’ve visited these countries and got to know, at least a little, the people there, but fear for them.  Doors opening and closing, but for whom and in what direction?  

              I remember hiking through Queen Zenobia’s golden capital of Palmyra, probably the grandest of the more than 3,000 historic sites scattered across Syria’s dry earth.  Everywhere I looked, I was dazzled by the strange beauty of the buildings, part Roman, part Asian in style.  No wonder it’s a UNESCO World Heritage Site.  We could imagine Zenobia in her marble bath, her courtiers, the people of this city.  In their tombs, we saw their portrait sculptures.  This was a city in which people lived and died—and constructed beautiful buildings in which to do it.  Now, I wonder: will this once proud desert city be completely leveled when the ISIS militants finish with it? 
             People don’t live forever, but their streets and buildings lasted thousands of years.  Now, it’s one more victim of the barbarians looting antiquities throughout the Middle East to pay for their wars and smashing pre-Islamic artifacts as symbols of idolatry, even destroying treasures such as Palmyra’s Temples of Bel and Baalshamin.  They showed their scorn for world opinion when they publically beheaded 81 year-old Khaled al-Asaad, the archeologist who oversaw the vast Palmyra site for 40 years.  They continue to attract young recruits who admire brutal strength and have no sense of cultural history, mostly young men who can find no other way in their impoverished homelands to use their energy and ambition. 
            So many places that we’ve visited and admired over the years have become war zones.  We loved our time in Egypt, even though we missed the massacre of tourists at Hatshepsut’s temple by only one day.  Egypt’s economy has been destroyed because tourists are afraid to visit, so the country has become a breeding ground for poor, angry youths who see no hope except in religious fanaticism and violence.  Even Turkey, one of our favorite countries, is torn between its traditional open society and the angry, closed society the fanatics want to create.  Why are fanatics so afraid of diversity—of people and of ideas?
            We visited Lebanon after it had recovered from a terrible conflict, but was beginning to face a flood of refugees from other countries.  Now, they’re overwhelmed with growing numbers of desperate men, women, and children.  Jordan, home of some of the world’s greatest archeological treasures, is struggling to cope with endless streams of refugees.  Will Jerash and Petra someday face the plight of Palmyra, Aleppo, and the other great sites of Syria?  Are the wonders of Egypt and the Nile valley at risk?  
            A while back, I published in an online magazine a story mostly set in Palmyra.  Many of the places described in the story have been destroyed, but I’ll never forget that once elegant city, the heart of an empire ruled by a queen who defied the emperor of Rome.  The link for the story, “Whither Zenobia?” is below.  
           Some of our most memorable moments while wandering the world were the times when we discovered the glories of past cultures, large and small, the places and things that reminded us of the astonishing varieties of human belief and creativity.  What can we do to help preserve the cultural heritage that belongs to all humanity?  At least, we must remember this vast, rich history and pass it on to later generations.  Thugs can destroy, but we can make sure that the messages of history aren’t lost forever.  
           

             “Sorry, no room,” the host at the B and B in Cremona told me, “but I have friend at small hotel near here.  Okay I call him for you?”
            Of course it was and he did call and the friend did have a room for us.  We strolled over there, a ten minute walk still in the old town, and it was fine and reasonably priced.  That was back in the days when we didn’t bother with hotel reservations when traveling in Europe, or train reservations either, and somehow everything always worked out.
            Throw a few things in a bag, catch a plane, and several hours later end up on another continent ready for unexpected adventures: a dream that often came true.  Sometimes, we took a boat or a train, other times we rode a bus or drove.  We didn’t need a lot of money and often we didn’t know exactly where we were going or what we’d see along the way or even where we’d rest our heads each night.  We could walk right up to the great rocks that were Stonehenge and the Roman Forum and give them hugs—no kidding, we did (gently).  We could stroll into the great museums for free or for a few cents and never have to wait in line—not even to ascend the Eiffel Tower or to wind our way up the famous Leaning Tower.  We always could find a room and a meal without too much trouble and usually a cheap bottle of good wine.  Or beer.  Or ouzo.  Or grappa.  Our lives were casual and so was travel. 
            Travel has changed, whether we like it or not.  It’s great that more people than ever are exploring the world, despite the ordeal of flying these days, but there is a fallout.  Hotels large and small are becoming pricier and pricier, catering to tour groups more than independent travelers.  It’s great that new destinations in developing countries are opening to visitors.  They may not have much tourist infrastructure, but they need the cash tourists spend.  And it’s great that adventure travel has become popular—and not only for the young, since many older people today aren’t afraid to climb a mountain or raft a river or go birding in an island jungle.  
            All this has made it hard, however, to avoid swarms of other tourists when we travel, even in formerly remote areas.  As the most prosperous developing countries such as China acquire their own large middle class, they too are sending tourists around the globe.  Growing crowds already are a problem in traditional tourist destinations.  If you don’t buy tickets online far in advance of your trip, you’ll end up standing in long lines of mobile phone-wielding tourists to get into the Louvre, Uffizi, and Vatican and up the Eiffel Tower.  Even in once remote areas, you’re likely to find yourself among tourists from around the globe.  I’ve encountered tall, blond Scandinavians in isolated jungle villages of Eastern India, Japanese in the Sahara Desert, Chinese in Puglia, German teenagers with their electronic devices shuffling through Southeast Asian temples, and Mexican newlyweds in a remote corner of Burma.  If you crave a reasonable flight schedule and convenient shelter at affordable prices you’ll find it’s not so easy today to be a spontaneous adventurer. 
              The impact of these growing crowds rushing around “seeing” the world is changing the world, itself, from the physical environment to societies and cultures that had survived until recently almost untouched for generations and even centuries.  Will the once pristine landscapes and ancient traditional societies, however remote, survive this invasion?
To be continued….