an idiot abroad — the show, the philosophy, the man

an idiot abroad is, technically, a tv show. spiritually, it is a documentary about me had i ever bought a passport. karl pilkington is, in my unsolicited estimation, the last accidental philosopher of our era. nobody put him there. he just sat down and refused to fake interest. i find that holy.

at the desk. carla is up in the all-hands rehearsal. forty minutes, give or take a coffee i won’t bother walking out for.

there is a moment, in season one, episode two — the india episode — where karl pilkington stands in front of the taj mahal and says, with the unbothered patience of a man who has seen sheds, “it’s alright”. that’s it. that’s the line. one of the more photographed structures on the planet, eight thousand miles from his couch, and karl gives it alright. people quote that line at me. i quote it at people. it has, in my private library, the status of scripture.

an idiot abroad — twenty-four episodes of british travel television in which a former radio producer named karl, born in manchester, is dispatched by gervais and merchant to a long list of places he did not ask to visit. three seasons. seven wonders, then a bucket list, then a road trip with warwick davis. aired on sky1 between 2010 and 2012. people watch it to laugh at karl. some of us watch it to learn from him.

IT’S. ALRIGHT. THAT’S. THE QUOTE.

what an idiot abroad refers to, the show

an idiot abroad — the show, not the philosophical category — is twenty-four episodes long, broadcast across three seasons, with one christmas special that exists, in my opinion, mainly to remind you that karl does not enjoy christmas in mexico either. season one: the seven wonders. season two: a bucket list. season three: with warwick davis, doing things from a bucket list that would, in better hands, be marketed as inspiration. karl turns each of these episodes into a quiet protest against the genre. the genre is travel television. the protest is karl himself.

the format is simple. ricky and stephen, in london, behind a console, send karl somewhere. karl arrives. karl is, on camera, mildly disappointed. karl complains about the bed, the food, the toilet, the heat, the locals, the language, the schedule, the structure, and on three separate occasions, the smell of his own shoes. ricky and stephen laugh at him from a studio. karl knows. karl says so. it’s the only travel show in which the host openly resents being on it. that’s the genius.

why karl pilkington is, secretly, a philosopher

let me argue this, which i’ve argued before, but i’d like it on the record properly.

this is why karl matters, in the small canon i keep in my head between meetings. the karl pilkington travel series, listed under “an idiot abroad”, is not a show about being abroad. it’s a show about being karl, in places that don’t suit him, while he reports, with disarming honesty, on the gap between the brochure and the breakfast. the gap is huge. the breakfast is usually worse.

the case for not traveling, mine, his

so here’s the section where you’d expect me to say something brave about my own travel philosophy. i’ll do my best. i don’t travel. i’ve said this elsewhere. i’m saying it again here because the show, more than any single piece of media i’ve watched, has made me feel vindicated. that’s a strong word. i don’t use it lightly. i used it once before, about cold pizza, and i’m using it now, about karl.

karl, on camera, in a peruvian guesthouse, says he prefers the apartment back home. he says it without irony. he means it. he is sitting on a bed with a view of a mountain, and he means it. the room is not cold. the bed is fine. but karl prefers his apartment. karl is right. the apartment back home — his, mine, possibly yours — is the only place in the world where you have configured the small physical inputs to your liking. the mug is where the mug goes. the pillow is the right one. the radiator clicks at the right moment. you cannot replicate that abroad. you can only approximate it. approximation is, technically, a worse version of being home.

related, and i’ve said it elsewhere but it bears repeating: mountain people are wrong about everything except cheese. i would cite this take here, gently, in support of karl’s general posture. the show goes to mountains. the show goes to deserts. the show goes to coastlines. and the conclusion, episode after episode, is that the people in those places are, mostly, nice, and the cheese, when there is cheese, is sometimes very good. that’s the data. the rest is filler.

what i learned without leaving the apartment

a small inventory of what i’ve learned about travel by not doing any of it. some of it i learned from karl. some of it i learned from my own apartment, which is, in its own way, a small unfunded research institution.

• most “experiences” are, in retrospect, photos. karl, on camera, looks at the photos he’s about to take and you can see him doing the math. the math says: it’s not worth the flight.
• the body has a strong opinion about its own bed. i learned this in 2018, on tom’s couch, the one weekend i agreed to attend his wedding. i did not sleep. tom slept like a man with a 401k he understood.
• i don’t need a foreign passport stamp to feel humble. i feel humble most mornings walking past the half-built ikea bookshelf in the corner of my apartment, the one waiting for two specific dowels and one missing hex key since october 2022. that bookshelf is, in its own way, a wonder of the world. it is unfinished. it is mostly upright.
• the third yoga mat is still under the couch. i bought it in late 2023, with the intention of becoming, abroad in spirit, a person who stretched. i used it once. it has been under the couch for approximately seventeen months. i did not need to fly anywhere to learn the truth about myself. the mat told me. for free. in the dark.

karl, in season two, is asked to do something physical involving balance. he refuses, gently, but with structure. he says he doesn’t see the point. i understand the moment in a way i didn’t before i bought the mat. karl is a man who has met his own body and accepted what it is. that’s not weakness. that’s accuracy.

verdict, required viewing

all-hands rehearsal is wrapping up — i can hear the corridor noise from the third floor, which means, in approximately four minutes, carla will be back at her desk. i am closing this tab. i will reopen it at lunch.

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