Notes from Las Vegas

Nothing gets you to appreciate the mass of humanity in this country like Las Vegas. People come from all around the United States, and the world, to discard their inhibitions and indulge. Most hold drinks in their hands while walking around; there’s certainly a collective social lubrication in this town. Flashing lights and alluring images plaster every surface. Bells and whistles and the sound of money echo throughout casino floors. And the air is rife with smoke—of course you can smoke inside in Vegas, you can do anything you want here.

I once watched a friend shoot a Tommy Gun at an Osama bin Laden target in Vegas, but that was a different lifetime ago. It’s all here: Indoor skydiving and the circus and gambling and raging pool parties; clubs and dance halls and fine dining; waterparks and shows and concerts and marvelous people watching. It’s all possible in the desert.

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My first time to Fremont Street was definitely an (unexpected) experience. I pictured a somewhat dingy street dotted with saloon-like casinos, rundown but reminiscent of the charm from a bygone era. It was instead an infusion of pure energy, firmly in the present. One long video screen rotated different dazzling images above us. There was so much light it felt like two o’clock in the afternoon, despite it being midnight. Multiple stages peppered this huge outdoor atrium, flanked by casinos on either side. Vegas girls and muscly men and huge gorillas suits beckoned every ten yards. People were smiling, yelling, drinking and taking photos of all the debauchery. Everyone there was simply looking to enjoy a good time. 

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Creepy clown sign outside Circus Circus

The National Rodeo Finals might have altered our timeline here. Cowboy hats dot the sea of heads. Belt buckles and cowboy boots and plaid shirts are everywhere. And the energy of the crowd is shifted with all these cowboys. There’s an excitement permeating from the big event, but there’s also an honestness. Cowboys and their support teams are here to compete, and to simply enjoy once the competition is over. One cowboy near us pointed at my wife’s belly and asked, “what is that?” “A baby,” I replied. He congratulated us and asked if it was a boy or girl, commenting about his own children. He was shocked to learn how old we were, but kept rewarding us with high fives for each additional bit of information. He was from Utah, with the number 5 rodeo team in the country he told me, and was surprised to hear we were from California. I’m not sure there’s a point to this story, just like there wasn’t to our conversation per se, just that it was friendly and happy.

Maybe it’s being here pregnant and sober that makes this experience different. We’ll see how the week progresses. It seems to afford a unique opportunity as observers, somewhat independent of the fevered effervescence that swirls in the air.

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There’s also the grimy part of Las Vegas that most people never see. The Strip is a food desert within a desert: you have to work to get out of it. We walked to a grocery store about 2.5 miles off Las Vegas Boulevard, traveling over railroad tracks and underneath freeways, sharing the windswept streets with vagrants and trash. It was sobering to see such poverty juxtaposed against the casino backdrop of obscene wealth. It made you feel there’s something wrong in this world. We were successful in our grocery run, getting a good walk in as well as a little adventure, but it made me think about the bigger picture. We chase status as individuals, but it’s a zero sum game. There has to be some way we can rectify the inequality. 

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George Strait concert at Allegiant Stadium on Saturday

From our hotel room at the end of The Strip you can see the mountains at the edge of the valley. It’s a jarring reminder that you’re still on Earth, that you’re still not that far from nature and the elements. It’s so easy to forget when there are no clocks or darkness everywhere you go in this town. But the mountains are there, and they are beautiful. I find them calling to me as I sit inside writing.

Because as I’ve gotten older, the fleeting party pleasures pull less strongly. I still enjoy having a good time with the people I love, but I don’t feel the urge to be in the thick of it, surrounded by thousands of other strangers. People come to Las Vegas seeking physical pleasures, sensations and entertainment. There’s nothing wrong with it; the city holds up and functions well, despite the gnarly traffic.

But it’s the solitary connection with nature I seek. I want to commune with my wife in the primal environment of our species, experiencing the elements and the purity of our planet. It’s the simple communion and presence I crave, not the flashy, fleeting pleasures. Is this what getting old means?

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Whether it’s your first or fiftieth time to Las Vegas, there’s always something to experience. This was a unique place for us to baby moon. It sure is a wild town. I learn something every time.

The Windy City Experience

And then there’s Chicago. We squeezed as much as we could into a day and a half in the Windy City after driving down from Appleton. Compared to the small-town rural feel of northern Wisconsin, the 3rd largest city in the United States was definitely a big change. Chicago's skyline trails only New York's, and you feel it walking around.

We joked that the lower levels felt like Gotham, where all the dumpsters were clustered, litter blowing in the wind. The back-alleys and areas under the L train made me wonder if Batman was lurking somewhere hidden up above, waiting to spring upon any nefarious persons. The L train is extremely loud and rickety, giving the city an old-time feel, much different than San Francisco. Water is engrained within the city’s consciousness, with the Chicago River winding around the Loop and vast Lake Michigan dominating the entire eastern side. There are also many water towers dotting the surrounding countryside, as if the infrastructure of the city itself remembers the Great Fire and is unwilling to be too far from water.

Loop skyline from atop Sears Tower

The architecture varies on every corner. The birthplace of the skyscraper happened here, and decades of architectural style are visible no matter where you look. You can find Chicago School, Art Deco, Modernism, Beaux-Arts, Gothic, and Postmodernism on display throughout the Loop. Many bridges span the Chicago River, which also creates fun street configurations instead of a simple grid. It's an absolute wonderland for street photography, although I was confined to just my phone.

We saw several major tourist sites for which the city is famous, including the Field Museum, the Magnificent Mile, the Bean and Millennium Park, the Lakefront Trail along Lake Michigan and Ohio Street Beach, the Chicago River and all the Loop's architecture aboard a Wendella cruise, the Sears Tower, the downtown Christkindlmarket, the Chicago Theatre, and 3 awesome Chicago-style restaurants. All in 36 hours! It was nice because there weren't many people around the day before Thanksgiving, so we actually got to enjoy and experience these sights.

The facade of the Chicago Theatre

All in all, my first foray into the Midwest was kind of what I expected. The people are friendly, the weather unforgiving and cold. The food has direct European roots and yet is distinctly American. Sports are passionately followed, the local teams beloved. There was a congruent feel between small-town suburban Wisconsin and the big cities of Milwaukee and Chicago, as if the region is sure of itself and its identify of being located in the Midwest. It's a different, older, simpler vibe than California, and I very much enjoyed experiencing it.

I'm continually surprised by America's diversity, despite living in a heterogeneous place. People live differently in different states, and yet we're all American. We all want the same thing: a fun, prosperous, safe and healthy life for ourselves and our families. Any contrast in our way of life is miniscule and irrelevant compared to that resounding similarity. From California or Chicago, we can all recognize that.

The Power of Travel

It took months to get a Chinese visa as an American citizen living in South Africa. This was back in 2011. I didn’t have internet or a smartphone. I was living illegally on a tourist visa, working under the table as a teacher at a language school in the heart of town, about twenty minutes away. My bicycle was my only reliable means of transportation. I was barely making it.

The cycling community in Cape Town was focused on raising awareness in the early 2010’s

The Chinese visa office was around the other side of Table Mountain, and I cycled there often to repeatedly bring mounds of paperwork as it was increasingly requested (read: demanded). Processing took weeks. I had trouble buying an airline ticket—once cycling all the way to CPT, about 2 hours each way. There was nowhere in the entire airport to buy plane tickets, and I had to turn back empty handed. I got lost in a township on the way home. As the sun set, I became more and more concerned for my safety; it was not the right place for me to be alone with wads of cash. So just getting the necessary documents was a journey.

But it was all worth it. I’d even argue this: travel might be the most important thing almost everyone can do. I understand not everybody “gets” to travel. But it’s easier than people think. Anyone living above the poverty line can go somewhere. Catching an 18 hour bus can bring you to a completely different place, and that’s attainable for most people.

Once you start traveling, you get “bitten by the bug”—you can’t easily stop. There’s something intoxicating about visiting new places and experiencing the foreign. It stimulates you mentally, emotionally, and physically. It can be the altitude in Denver or Bolivia; the spirituality in Bali or Tibet; the political system of Egypt or Russia. Traveling changes you, and once you’ve felt that change, you seek it out.

Exploring the streets of Doha - March 2012

When I was moving from South Africa to China back in 2011, people always asked me, “why do you want to go to China?” The honest answer was that I didn’t really have an answer. I didn’t really know. China was the unknown, something new and mysterious, something wildly different than anything else I had experienced up to that point. I remember having these fleeting images of Big Bad Communist China: gargantuan, imposing, Soviet-style buildings under gray skies, millions of faceless Chinese citizens stoically crisscrossing a cold, calculating land. But I also understood that I didn’t actually know at all what China was like—I didn’t know what to expect, and that’s part of what drove me there. 

I vividly remember my first “oh shit” moment: it was during my layover. I flew from Cape Town to Doha on the first leg, with 24 hours before my flight to Beijing. Naturally, like the carefree 23 year old I was, I checked my two bags, which was all I owned, and left the airport to go explore the city. I visited museums, mosques, and bazars. It was my first time to the Middle East and I soaked it all in. I also passed out on the grass in a public park for a few hours. Upon returning to the airport, I went through security and found my terminal. Exhausted, I sat down in the waiting area and sighed, dreading the long flight ahead. After a couple moments I noticed something. All around me, people were chattering away in Chinese. It was an alien language to me. I think I was the only non-Chinese person on my flight, and I realized that I didn’t speak a lick of Mandarin other than “knee how.”  I was about to move to a country in which I wouldn’t be able to communicate, one in which I knew no one. It hit me right then that I was completely unprepared for what was to come.

My first day in Beijing: March 15, 2012. Being driven to the Wangjing neighborhood from the airport.

I didn’t quite panic, but I was definitely terrified. And somehow that was exciting. I was leaving my second home, the relative comfort of Cape Town, for the complete unknown. I had no idea what my life would be like in 8 hours. But I knew it was going to be different, and an adventure. I shuffled in line with everyone else when our flight began boarding, found my seat on the plane, and promptly passed out again, extremely low on sleep. Many hours later, as I smelt the sour air as we descended through the pollution to Beijing Capital Airport, I looked out the window at the early morning sunshine and awaited my fate.

The rest is history: I am the person I am today because of the 3 1/2 years I spent living in Beijing. It completely changed my life. I didn’t leave “the Motherland,” as I still call it, until I returned home in October of 2015. To this day I’ve seen more of China than I have of the US. I grew up in Beijing, developed my vision of a life dedicated to education, and learned the importance of family. This is how poignant travel can be. And shorter trips can be meaningful too. The point is you push yourself, you immerse yourself, you challenge your conception of the world. Travel unlocks the power of experience and the spirit of adventure. It can be a great teacher. And it’s always worth it.

Homecoming Feelings

No matter how often you travel or for how long, it’s always good to be home. Earth is such a diverse planet, and the differences are sharply illuminated when traveling. I’ve lived on 3 different continents, but I don’t foresee anywhere ever taking California’s place. Home is where the heart is, and there is always much to be grateful for. 

Experiencing Traveling

Is it worth it when you have to get up at 4am? Traveling isn’t a constant state of fun the whole time, especially the getting there part. But that’s part of the journey as well, to truly understand how vast this world is. We’ve streamlined the experience pretty well as a species; there’s never been a better time to explore and expand horizons. It’s worth it. 

Departure Day Reflections

Until next time, Sedona. And there will be a next time: I won’t pass up another opportunity to immerse in your red rock beauty. 

Travel challenges you and travel teaches you, even when only visiting a neighboring state. I feel this short journey revealed different perspectives about the coronavirus, different ways of living a good life. 

Stunning scenery inspires and provokes thought. But it’s the experiences we must take with us. When we cumulatively build those over the course of our lives, we build a better world for all. 

Scenery Learning

Then there’s a different kind of education. Today was my first time flying in a hot air balloon. To say it was beautifully peaceful would be an understatement—you float along the wind streams like a sailboat gliding through sea currents, experiencing the environment from a completely unique perspective.

A change of scenery can engender a change in mind. The red rocks of Sedona and in a greater sense the overall feeling of the American Southwest has reinvigorated me. Seeing how a different state operates makes plain the simple multitude of different ways to do things. This even so for a place within a (long) day’s driving distance.

Americans are as diverse as their country’s varied landscapes. There are deserts and forests and plains and mountains and coasts. We are urbanites and rural folk. Just as we must change our attire and way of life in different habitats, we must understand how those changes affect the minds of those who live there. Arizona is not California or Maine or Minnesota. But we are united in our dreams for a good life, for bright futures for our children. Let’s rally around that, and progress forward with purpose. 

Planetary Span

Going off of yesterday’s thoughts, there are times when you are simply wowed by nature. The Grand Canyon is one such site—that makes you wonder... back to when the indigenous Americans lived and farmed and hunted and gathered there... to the Spanish party that first “discovered” it and were incredulous... to me today, on the lip of the crater... we all experienced a similar sensation, upon first sight. The canyon formed over millions of years, this brief span of history, only a few thousand. We live on one planet, and when we start recognizing that fact, when we start understanding our history has played out over the same land, we will realize we must come together as one. 

Flying Reflections

Flying is a little different now. The most noticeable thing is the lack of people. Airports are big places, and especially apparent now, there’s a lot of space. It’s interesting how indoctrinated we become with our routines. I’m only now observing the typical airport routines, and the Covid differences. At the end of the day, even for a short domestic flight to Phoenix, it’s amazing that a group of people, with completely different agendas, gets on a vehicle and is transported somewhere completely different. We live in one big beautiful amazing world. While working to improve it, we should notice its beauty too. 

Unity Amidst Differences

I came across some scraps of started writing from when I was traveling around the world:

10.17.2019

In Nairobi marabou storks sit on the lampposts, you can see them as you drive by. Where I’m from, you might see a pigeon or potentially a seagull on such a perch. But this is Africa. Nairobi is a sprawling, congested metropolis, one of the biggest, most modern, and industrial cities on the continent… yet there are marabou storks everywhere.

02.08.2020

Climate change will have the biggest impact on our lives, of every single person on this planet. It‘a easy for me to become distracted from this issue here in Bali, with all the stunning scenery…except that some of it is ruined by trash. Much of this litter comes from Java, not the island itself. It’s a reminder that our choices have an impact on our world, sometimes much further away than we realize.

11.26.2019

It’s been 14 days since my Hong Kong post, and the violence persists. Political unrest exists on another previously visited continent as well—former Bolivian president Evo Morales resigned from office. He claims a coup, while the other side claims corruption, sedition, and treason. It was only April that I was in Bolivia. The people in La Paz were definitely outspoken in their dislike for their president, but it didn’t feel anywhere close to a removal from office. It’s hard for people to understand foreign government systems, so it’s difficult to know what to believe. How can we help? As global citizens we can be aware.

10.05.2019

How do we alleviate the poverty in Africa? How can we prevent littering in Kenya? Driving down the road from Masai Mara to Nairobi, you see trash everywhere. How can we change that?

I share these snippets to show how much traveling can literally broaden one’s horizons. Was I aware of trash in Kenya or Bali before embarking on my journey? Certainly not. Was I up on South American or Asian politics? Negative. But traveling opens your mind to the true nature of the rest of the planet, outside wherever you’re from. It promotes a global consciousness. 

As we fight through this pandemic together, let’s remember how diverse our species can be, how specific our circumstances can be. In recognizing our differences, we can appreciate that we really are more similar than we are different. Just look at right now—every country around the world is fighting the coronavirus. Almost all of humanity is consumed by this pandemic. It has become almost every community’s top priority.

We will get through this, like we have other catastrophes in the past. And perhaps, just perhaps, it will unite us as one.

Gratitude by the Numbers

Yesterday I was looking over some photos from my time in Arusha last year and it reinforced how lucky I am. Chances are, if you’re reading this you’re probably within the same socioeconomic stratum as me—somewhere around average American middle-class. Compared to the rest of the world, that’s a pretty privileged place.

By sheer luck, I happened to be born into these circumstances. I could have easily been born in Arusha and be struggling to get by. My education, my career options, my current prospects for getting through this global pandemic—a lot of it was determined at birth, by chance. A quick thought experiment to illustrate this:

The 5 most populous countries in the world are China, India, the United States, Indonesia, and Pakistan. If you total their combined population you get 3,644,746,767, or 46.9% of the world’s population. What percentage of the 3.5 billion people living in these countries enjoy a standard of living equal to or greater than an average American middle-class household?

Well, the United States' total population of roughly 330 million people makes up less than 10 percent of the combined top 5 countries population total. So let’s pretend that half of the US population is in the middle class, and that there are some Chinese, Indian, Indonesian, and Pakistani citizens enjoying a similar standard of living (which there are, but not very many). This means we can very conservatively estimate that 7% of all the people living in the 5 most populous countries enjoy an American middle-class standard of living.

So I hit the jackpot! Of all the 3.5 billion people living in the 5 most populous countries on Earth, which makes up almost half of the world’s population, I’m one of the 7% who enjoys immediate privilege.

Let’s compare this to likelihood of being born in an extremely poor place like Arusha. Using any country listed in the top 10 on these 3 sites, here’s a quick and dirty list of 20 poverty-stricken countries and their population totals, in which you could safely say that if you’re among this group, you would suffer similar living conditions as those in Arusha:

Afghanistan - 38,928,346

Burundi - 11,890,784

Central African Republic - 4,829,767

Democratic Republic of the Congo - 89,561,403

Ethiopia - 114,963,588

Gambia - 2,416,668

Haiti - 11,402,528

Kyrgyzstan - 6,524,195

Madagascar - 27,691,018

Malawi - 19,129,952

Mozambique - 31,255,435

Niger - 24,206,644

Sierra Leone - 7,976,983

Somalia - 15,893,222

South Sudan - 11,193,725

Tajikistan - 9,537,645

Tanzania - 59,734,218

Uganda - 45,741,007

Uzbekistan - 33,469,203

Yemen - 29,825,964

Population total: 596,172,295

These 20 countries account for 7.6% of the world’s population. So I had a 7% chance of being born into a “middle-class” family compared to a 7.6% chance of inheriting extreme poverty. Most of the other 85 percentage points are places in the world that heavily skew toward poverty.

Yea, I got lucky. I think I can handle shelter-in-place here in sunny California. This is a very simplistic thought experiment with some methodological limitations, but you get the picture.

We can always be grateful. The world is so vast and so diverse, sometimes we don’t know how fortunate we can be. Maybe if we realize it, we’ll work to make it better for everyone.

Return Reaction

Well, I’m back. It’s been a crazy 36 hours. I’m discouraged by how the US government is handling the current global situation and how the subsequent repercussions are affecting citizens, but that’s for future posts. The point is I’m home.

No more FaceTime, only actual face time. Our loved ones are part of who we are. It’s easy to see this clearly when you’ve been away for so long. At once we are lost and experiential and worldly and alone, as well as together and unified and apart of the greater.

I guess the overall feeling is gratitude. There and Back Again. What new normal will we create?

Processing the Planet

All of a sudden, I’m coming home. It’s kind of surreal—the trip was originally supposed to end in late April. Now I’ll be back in the US tomorrow, for the first time in 7 months.

In every way, this journey has been a once-in-a-lifetime experience. It’s difficult for me to process right now as the end has come so soon and unexpectedly, but looking back on almost a year’s worth of travel to all 7 continents, there’s been an overarching constant.

The world is big. With modern travel we are able to cover vast distances, but it’s still possible to appreciate the Earth’s scale. I’ve taken 10 hour flights that only get you to the next continent, and crossed an ocean and back on a ship for 2 weeks. There’s a lot of Earth out there.

The world is beautiful. The falls of Iguazu are literally awesome. The art and architecture in Europe spawns existential epiphanies. And you can’t picture a more serene beach than the innumerable ones dotting Asia. We could not ask for a more beautiful planet. 

The world is amazing. It’s impossible to describe the diversity of both flora and fauna across the globe, from blue-footed boobies and red lakes to limitless savannas and serval cats to gigantic coral reefs and kangaroos. Our world is so unique we’re not even capable of fathoming it.

Most of all, the world is one. No matter where you visit, you see all life adapting to their environment, thriving with the will to survive. You see that humans are one species of millions on this planet, and that we have a place within the global ecosystem.

Our petty self-perceived differences equate to nothing when seeing the whole world. We share so many more similarities than differences. We all need food and shelter and love. We all laugh and cry and smile the same. 

It is clear: huge key issues of vital importance affect all of us together, regardless of nationality, age, gender, or culture. Weather and disease do not discriminate between us. 

To keep our world big and beautiful and amazing and one, we must change. We must focus on how we live, how we interact with the rest of the planet, and how we view the world and ourselves. Climate Change and Education and Equality and Openness and Global Consciousness will only be achieved if we unite together. We must inspire each other to change.

This is what I’ve found while traveling around the world. It has been the most meaningful journey of my life. Now that I’m coming home, it’s time for a new journey to start. Will you join me?

Laotian Fairytale

Only 20 hours later and you enter a new world. Laos encourages you to contemplate the state of the world. Luang Prabang makes you wonder, “where am I?” WiFi passwords printed on receipts confounded with seasonal bamboo bridges rebuilt every year will cause you to ask that question. The world is vast. Exploring it gives us some sense of its scale, and its beauty. What a fairytale we live. 

Two Worlds, One Country

It’s amazing how different two places within one country can be. Koh Lanta and Krabi, down on the narrow Kra Isthmus in the southern part of Thailand, are chill beach paradises. The pace of life is slow and leisurely, and many locals appear relaxed even at work. Life is simple in these areas. 

Bangkok is a whole other animal. This city is dirty and smelly, but most of all, alive. People sell all kinds of street food throughout the metropolis. Buddhist temples cover the city, especially in the old town. Locals are still friendly, but they’re on a time crunch here. Ya gotta make money. But there’s a quiet charm to it all. Bangkok feels like an up-and-coming Hong Kong, but with more warmth. The surrounding skyscrapers in the distance allude to its continuing modernization and development—but you can still disappear into tiny alleys far removed from any tech. 

Two completely different places in one country, an hour’s flight apart. If such distinctions can exist within such a “small” area, as part of one national identity, how different can the various parts of the world get? Incredibly so. Diversity is one of our species’ most beautiful traits. Let’s experience it and celebrate it. It’s a crazy world and I absolutely love exploring it. 

Balinese Reflection

My time has come to an end in Bali. It’s been a great adventure here, and just as enjoyable to reflect back on the journey. Bali truly is an island of the gods. There are temples and shrines everywhere you look. No matter how many foreigners visit these religious sites, the locals revere their cultural and religious heritage. Tourism has pervaded the island to a degree, but underneath that gall, even in places like Kuta, kindness persists. The locals almost always greet you with a smile. And why not? In Bali, life is good. The weather is pristine, the scenery is gorgeous, the food is cheap and good, and people are happy. Denpasar and Kuta in the south are very different from Ubud in the center, as well as Lovina in the north. It seems the further up you go, the greater the ratio of locals to tourists. There’s something here. Life is not perfect in Bali (as a quick scooter ride in the traffic will show you), but it’s not supposed to be. The island is at ease with the way life is. That’s been perhaps my greatest lesson here. Sometimes we need to slow down, be still, and let peace flow through us. In this big beautiful amazing world, Bali is a wonderful place to learn such lessons. I’ll be back.

The Age of Instagram

It’s tough to watch people take 23 selfies (I counted) of themselves in front of a famous or beautiful sight, without actually turning around to appreciate where they are, or to insist that their friend takes their photo with a better angle for the 4th time (again, I counted—different person).

It’s the Age of Instagram. You haven’t been somewhere unless you have pictures (of yourself). Why even go if you don’t get likes and comments and shares out of it?

But then I think, more people than ever before can afford a plane ticket, and people are getting out there. They're traveling to different countries and continents, different cultures. Even if they travel differently than me, hopefully the experience opens their minds (it definitely helps open mine).

I believe the more we travel and immerse ourselves in different ways of life, the better we will understand each other. And understanding is the first step towards global consciousness, to peace, to harmony.

Share your experience online. It’s great to show people back home. But it helps to remember it’s not about you, or me, or anyone else, but about us. We all share the same rock. Let’s explore it, let's share it, and let’s unite it.

Pockets of Peace

Even in Kuta, the busiest and most touristy part of Bali, you can find pockets like these. Tourism has not eclipsed the core of the island—the base is still something more. It’s refreshing, because it’s all to easy for that to happen. In Bali, you can feel the balance. 

There’s a time for work and a time for rest. Being here helps me see the balance more clearly. Tropical places seem to make it easier: going to the beach, enjoying the water, and then just sitting there. Not reading or looking at your phone, but simply resting, relaxing. 

The scenery is stunning and the vibe is peaceful and spiritual. Bali is certainly a paradise on this amazing planet. 

To New Journeys

Once you get on the plane, only the anticipation remains. It’s on to a new journey.

Have you ever wanted to do what Jim Carrey does in Yes Man? He goes to the airport and books a flight to the next destination available. If you do that, all you can focus on is the adventure. You commit yourself to the unknown, so the fear can only lead to excitement.

That’s what it’s like when you get on a plane going to somewhere you’ve never been. Any of the bitterness from the bittersweet goes away as soon as you leave the ground. 

Getting on a plane is probably a good visualization technique when we’re faced with change. You’ve made your decision, and it’s only ahead to look forward to. Here’s to new journeys, what life is all about. 

Last Day Appreciation

Today was the last day on another continent. It always feels bittersweet to leave a place when you know you probably won’t be back for a long time, if ever. The world is just too big.

Sure, the world is getting smaller in that it’s more connected, but the diameter of the earth is still 12,756 km. That hasn’t changed. It doesn’t matter if you seek nature or wildlife, culture or food, art or architecture—all of it exists all over the entire planet. It’s fascinating, but you can’t see it all.

The sweet part is it’s on to another journey, another adventure, another unknown. And it’s kind of beautiful that we can’t see it all. We have to choose what we do with our time here. In the end, it’s our choices that tell us who we are.