why i travel

delhi, india

eight countries, dozens of cities, hundreds of nights in foreign beds, thousands of kilometers, and the million magical moments that comprised my summer of 2009 will come to a close this evening. fifteen weeks of buses, boats, metros, zemi-johns, tro-tros, sept-places, rickshaws, bicycles, cars, trains, mopeds, and feet will be capped off with one more voyage, this time by plane. while this was not my first time to forsake the familiar for the foreign, there was enough from this trip alone to inspire subsequent adventures. just as no picture of the taj mahal, no wooden mask, no train ticket stub can approach an appropriate summary of my experience, neither can any talking point address why i do this. as the question is generally lingering if not asked, the following is a very adumbrated list of why i travel......

to hear 'inshallah' on two continents

to bathe in the ganga

the african night sky

to look totally out of place, but feel like i completely belong

so that next time i hear someone's horror story about delta airlines, i can offer my own about djibuka transport

to sign autographs on rail station platforms

for terre rouge roads

to improve my french

so that places i could once barely pronounce become the stage for some of my life's most sacred memories

to see for myself what all the fuss is about

to see a men in turbans ride motorcycles

for west malian thunderstorms that provide a re-introduction to near-pant wetting fear

to be pretty sure you're the only person on the indian subcontinent wearing sandles emblazoned with the burkina faso flag

because the examined life is worth living

because how else would i meet samba, souleymane, imran, sanjay, hilal, hamadou, or any of the hundreds of other people who touched my soul

for vistas of ubiquitous baobabs

for clarity

for a better understanding of the difference between 'have' and 'have not'

who are you and why are you asking? leave a happy man alone

for perspective

to pass through ouahigouya, ouagadougou, fada n'gourma, and natitingou consecutively

to (finally!) be well-received just for being a u.s. american, but to realize we still have a long way to go

to put on jeans in udaipur, realizing the sand in the pockets came from ghana

for gentle shoulder taps on buses and trains that transform ipod isolation into conversational kilometers

to hear 'the power of love' by celine dion in cape coast, ghana and be reminded of when you last heard it outside of sikasso, mali [blogger note: neither hearing by choice, of course]

so that when my maker asks me where i traveled, i can respond, 'got a minute?'

to look back and move beyond

to bypass the walkway and cross the tracks

for crepuscular moped rides through rural indian villages

to realize the value of a sunset

to find the fuel and ideas for my next destinations

to hear an indian casanova say the word 'cock'

to keep a promise and hope you'll get to make a million more

to witness a portuguese airport official look impressed while leafing through my passport

because trimming a beard (or {gasp!} shaving) is just plain unethical

to realize that i owe life far more than it owes me

for the next batch of questions

to find my inspiration

to realize the value of a sunrise

to stare down and ultimately conquer a plate of plain spaghetti noodles, knowing i hadn't kept any food down all day and had absolutely no hunger, but that it was the only way the malaria medicine would take

to learn how to tell between pure saffron and its imitators

for 5 rupee cups of chai on the train

to light a candle in a lotus leaf, make a wish, and set it free on the ganga. then to turn around minutes later and see the candle is still alit

because i am me and this is what i do

to impress travelers in africa by telling them i'm going to india; and impress travelers in india by telling them i'm coming from africa

to join the exclusive i-had-the-runs-on-a-long-distance-indian-train club

to accept the fact that this is not a phase, this is not one last hoorah before my 30s, this is not working through any sort of psychosocial matter, this is what i was born and meant to do.

for all these and a crore more.


but, again, if you have to ask, you'll never know.

namaste.