"...as soon as we walk out of our front doors, the journey begins, and travel means mischance. It means misfortune. It means the safety and protection of home are gone. Home is where there are walls and doors and locks, and the people there mostly don't steal from us. Leaving home means taking risks, whether it's eight-tenths of a mile away or a thousand. Our homes are on streets and not far are other streets. They lead us to misfortunes....

... leaving home is risky. In the title of the book, it risks bewilderment, and bewilderment is not usually fun. Confusion is what we don't want. Knowledge, information, clarity, and good sense are what we cling to and seek, "and yet." That is a two word quote from Wallace Stevens that I have long loved and that I find myself repeating as I travel, "and yet." We believe that we have it right, and how could we possibly have it wrong? Knowledge, information, clarity, and good sense! And yet. And yet we leave home, we step into the street, street carries us to street, and within eight-tenths of a mile ... the intimidating assaults us, confusion confronts us, and we bend our heads down to shoulder the beating of our clarity and good sense. And this is the strangest part: we submit to it willingly. It is why we have left home. Not to be mugged, of course. Not to become the victims of crime, please don't misunderstand. But we go to where we are strangers, unable to make sense of what is going on, unable to understand the local language or customs adequately. We are stunned by sights and encounters. We lose our moorings. We get lost. It is difficult, very difficult. And yet. And yet, we are glad we went. It's not the only way to see travel, but it's what this book will urge: that what travel means is not just misfortune but seeking misfortune. In some sense, wanting it. And it is of such crucial importance to us, that we must call it religious. ... "