The Boy and the World
A few minutes later, having been hailed twice by strangers on the way to lunch ("Thank you!" "Thank you, Anderson!"), Cooper settles into a restaurant booth. He talks a bit about his interest in Buddhism, which led him, early in his career, to spend a semester studying in Vietnam. Since then, he's reported from 58 countries, including some of the world's most hard-bitten war zones.
Don't you ever get scared?
I find it exhilarating, terrifying at times, depressing, fascinating. But I have a great desire to see it and to go back.
Did your own travel experience prepare you for that?
I had my eyes opened when I first went to Africa, when I was 17. It was my senior year of high school. My college applications were in, and I didn't see much point in being there.
The senior slump.
Right. So I decided to get out of town. And I used to read the travel ads in the back of Outside. A lot. And I remember finding an ad for this company called Encounter Overland, which ran trips in a British Army lorry through Africa. I went from Jo'burg to London overland, in three or four months. In that way, I say Outside changed my life, because that trip opened my eyes to a lot of possibilities and different experiences.
You had some tragedies in your family.
Yeah. My dad died when I was ten. My brother committed suicide. And all those were things that propelled me away, more than I would have gone otherwise. I got a job when I was 11 so I could start earning money. And when I was 14 I started doing these courses with NOLS. Mountaineering in the Wind River Range, kayaking in the Sea of Cortez. So by the time I went to Africa I was pretty independent, but it was the first time I'd been through a roadblock and had someone point a gun at me.
Did it change you? Your perception of the world?
It certainly opened it up. I mean, New York had been my universe, and none of that seemed real to me. Africa seemed real. I felt comfortable, which is hard to explain. I don't know why. There wasn't a lot of chitchat. You get down to the core very quickly, and you see people as they are. It's less confusing.
Did you feel at home with yourself while there?
I liked myself more there than I did here. I wanted to be that person. I grew up in a privileged environment [his mother is fashion designer Gloria Vanderbilt], but to me the greatest privilege was at a very early age realizing that what a lot of people think they want, what a lot of people are aiming for—ultimately, they will be just as miserable as everybody else. Once you realize that, it's sort of freeing.
You weren't necessarily happy on that truck in Africa. But there is something deeply happy about those difficult experiences. People routinely say, "That was the greatest experience of my life." It's a strange alchemy, the way miserable things are turned into good memories.
When you are hospitalized with malaria, it's not so great, but in retrospect, yeah, it was the greatest thing ever.
But if people haven't had those experiences, they're afraid. They think, This is going to suck.
It's OK if it sucks. Of course it's going to suck at times. But it's also going to be exhilarating and invigorating, and it's going to quicken your pulse in a way it's never been quickened. And you know what? Not everything has to feel good. That's sort of a revelation—at least it was for me. You should go through it. It should suck. It's not all about enjoyment.
You bring me to my cynical view that America is the comfort nation, that we want to be cocooned.
I don't buy that. A lot of people are seriously interested in this stuff. More so than ever. Look at TV: There are tons of travel shows. Maybe it's armchair travelers, but that's OK. We all have our limitations.
You are convinced TV can do more good than harm.
Smart TV can. I'm a big believer in the power of television to bring you to a spot in a very visceral and real way. Whether it's Katrina or the DRC, it can have a quicker and bigger impact than anything.