why i travel

singapore

less than a week ago, i'm walking through little india in penang. from one of the video store's speakers comes gayatri mantra, a hindi chant that i recognized from my time in india a few years ago. i'm not sure exactly where i heard it, maybe the rooftop in jodhpur or one of the ganga aarti ceremonies in rishikesh or just after sunset in delhi. i am certain that it was a poignant moment. that song. it was one of those moments when the world seems to pause for you alone. it's like everything is conspiring to tell you that there's something intangibly real all around you, and it's all good. i heard it then and wanted to know its name. the other day, i walked into the video store and found out.

what i remember most vividly about that moment in india is that it was one that i wanted to put into my pocket. i wanted to saran wrap that baby and stow it away for a rainy day. it was one of those break-glass-in-case-of-emergency-need-for-inspiration memories that get us out of the emotional tunnels of the daily grind.

and then i got home and that momentum seemed to vanish a la sonny bono on a ski slope. to be honest, i started writing a novel, so much of that was self-inflicted and worthwhile in the long run. but hearing that mantra the other day was a poignant reminder. i could call it something like serendipity or destiny, but i like to keep it a bit more plausible. after all, the odds are not exactly astronomical that indian music would be playing in a part of town called little india. i think it best contextualized as a reminder of how good i feel and how great i've been to myself; how i don't have to let it slip away.

this is not a three month trip. departure to arrival, sure. but it really goes back to about one year ago, when i decided that i would travel. it goes back to every time i bit my tongue at a shitty job that allowed me to save; every time i denied myself a short-term diversion so i could be gone for a longer spell. it reaches back to every time i heard the mosquito buzz in my life that told me that something had to be swatted, something had to be itched, something had to be done.

mostly, though, it goes forward. it will be there in the spring in my step and lightness of being. it will be there in my ability to separate what matters from what is just noise. i've made some decisions about my path going forward and at least one of them involves major change. i would not have the strength to do so without these past few months.

if you want the cold, hard facts to support my reasoning for travel, i'm afraid that's as you're gonna get outta me. that may prove unsatisfactory for many out there, those that believe in tangibles and weighing them out like justice. but, dear, there ain't evidence and this is no courtroom. it's a far more important venue that i refer to as life.

if you still need the evidence, still need the play-by-play, then consider this an adumbrated attempt at appeasement. i present my reasons for why i travel:

to be bicycling in angkor wat and have to debate whether to overtake the elephant in front of me

to have to ask what day it is

to learn that it's also called the american war

to be stumbling and sweating after climbing liang biang and receive an introduction to lat barbecue and muoi ot chanh

for the only item on the daily agenda to be sunset

to see conical hats in the rice paddies

because i hear what you have to say about careers, but i remain thoroughly unconvinced

to be here, now

to be now, here

how can i be entirely sure it exists if i don't see it for myself?

to make new friends, on facebook and otherwise

for fan mail

to grab a little khe sanh soil to sprinkle in d.c.

to read matterhorn in vietnam

to feel proud to be out of my 20s

to stare at palm trees for a half-hour and think about life; to continue staring at them for another ten minutes thinking about palm trees

to spot the irrawaddy dolphin

to make solid friendships stronger

to learn the translation for 'no problem' in four languages

because i know why the caged bird sings

to watch an australian open final between a serb and a spaniard while smoking filipino hash with a german in vietnam

to go from exploring my options to optioning to explore

so that when someone asks if i'm canadian, i can reply, "hell no"

to make peace

for the slow boat

to leave it cleaner than i found it

to respect the ladyboy

for thai smiles

because for this bus ride/trek/sunset/walk/coffee/meal/beer/railway ticket queue/swim/dive/song/spectacle, we can be friends

to give myself a little credit for once

because my generation will not be able to retire

for cheap massages

to take life seriously

for strawberry shakes

for ringside seats to muay thai fights

to swim with the barracudas

to pursue that thing called happiness

for street food

to take 1400 pictures and then put the camera away for a little bit

for those 1400 pictures

for endearingly terrible lao karaoke

to follow through on that promise with the eight ball and the corner pocket

to put a face to the name

for reggae bars

to empty my life's spam folder

to arrive in tokyo and kuala lumpur at night

to be the guy riding my motobike through the hoi an pedestrian market

to say chul muouy with the fellas

to be the generation that forgives

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


if you followed along on my journey: thank you. i appreciated the company. i'm already looking forward to having more to share in the (hopefully) not too distant future.

and to the great people of these great lands: i simply don't have the words. in their stead, i'll simply say arigato gozaimasu, khawp khun khrap, aw kohn, cam on, khawp jai lai lai, terima kasih, and thank you with perfect pronunciation and my head bowed, palms fused in front of my chest until i'm blue in the face and these tears dry up. i will very soon be gone, and you will never be forgotten.