04/18/2023: Los Angeles, CA, U.S.A.
It’s been nearly 10 years since the start of our Round-The-World trip. In many ways, taking so long to write about our journey has been a blessing. It’s kept it alive and well in our minds far longer than we could’ve hoped for. For this reason, I’m grateful for my procrastination.
Every time I’ve approached a blog entry, I’ve had to crack open my journal and remind myself where we were, what we saw, how we felt. The memories would flow back like a rising tide. I’d recall sights, sounds, and smells - all the joys and setbacks of life on the road. I’d start typing away, refreshing my memory further with research, photos, and videos. And for a few days, while sitting alongside Katie as she edited our videos, we’d both be back in that country again enjoying an encore performance. I think journals are the closest thing we have to time travel. Thank goodness for pen and paper.
It was a risk, going on this trip. We left good jobs behind, put other dreams on hold, and agreed to a hefty price tag (one that grew beyond our budget as the weeks rolled on). Looking back, we have no regrets. It has been one of the greatest choices we’ve ever made. We learned more about the world in 10 months than we had our entire lives. And those lessons left an invisible mark we always carry with us.
We learned that water drains clockwise north of the equator, counterclockwise south of the equator, and straight down on the equator. We learned you will need to ask for the check if you ever want to leave a restaurant in Peru, Argentina, Cambodia, India, etc. (go back in the kitchen if you need to). We learned the mating call of koalas and how dangerous caimons can be when you mimic the sound of their young in distress. We learned we’ll never find bánh xèo as good as in Hoi An and that durian smells so bad it’s not allowed on Singapore subways. We learned Jains won’t hurt a fly (literally) and Balinese Hindus adore babies because they are newly reincarnated souls. We learned the gentle nature of elephants and to never, ever ride on one. We learned to be cautious of scammers but that most people are hardworking, curious, and kind.
We learned Cambodia has been forever scarred by U.S. carpet bombs and that most foreigners think all Americans own guns. We learned that, despite a history of war, the Vietnamese people welcome Americans with open arms. We learned how lucky we are to be American, with its protected shores that allow us to sleep soundly at night; with its social safety nets that help citizens who lose their jobs to keep their lights on; with its precious yet delicate democracy that should be honored and safeguarded every day. We learned that we live like kings compared to many on this earth, and we should never take it for granted.
Our eyes were opened to the hardships and triumphs of every man and the common destinies we all share in our pursuit of happiness. Because underneath every color of skin we are all humans yearning for the same basic needs: food, shelter, safety, love. This trip provided these needs to us and so much more. We are thankful for what this world has given us.
I could go on and on about lessons learned, but I think the best way to end this decade-long journey is to let you peer into the mind of my 36 year-old self at the conclusion of our trip. It’s shockingly apt considering my sleep deprivation. Here are the last words in my handwritten journal, written during our final flight between Chicago and Seattle. Thank you so much for taking this journey with us. Until next time…
I’ve already experienced some strange moments where I have to remind myself I’m in the U.S. Like questioning the safety of food at first bite, or thinking I have to get small bills because no one has change. One thing I’m having no problem getting used to is looking out the plane window and seeing rural landscape, blue sky, and thick fluffy white clouds. God, I love how beautiful this country is. This trip has really made me understand how lucky I am to have been born in America. The opportunities I’ve had aren’t possible for most of the world - the big and the little things. I’m lucky enough to drink clean water from the faucet, not worry about disease when I eat a salad, place toilet paper in the toilet, know that road rules will be generally followed, and not worry for my life when crossing a road or walking on a sidewalk. My life is generally peaceful and pleasant. America has its issues, but it does do a lot of things right. But then again, this is coming from a white American.
One hour before arrival and our reserves are dwindling. We’ve been awake for nearly 39 hours. Not healthy. I’ve been drinking insane amounts of caffeine to stay awake so I’ll sleep tonight. Katie’s leg is giving her issues since we’ve been back. It’s these chairs. Her legs dangle. I think that’s one reason we both liked South East Asia so much - our height was normal there. Short people = short chairs. Ah, the little things. Like sleeping when you want to, eating Mexican food, hanging out with family and friends, playing cards and watching sports, speaking your mind about life and not worrying who hears, holding your love’s hand and not being afraid, breathing fresh air. These are the things I’m looking forward to while never forgetting the past and all the lessons I’ve learned. Hopefully, next week, next year, in the next 10 years, we’ll both be able to close our eyes and remember these last 10 months crisply, as if it were yesterday. This journal will help, and it will keep me honest since it takes the good and bad, binds them together, and tells the story of how we went from fear to excitement, to joy, to shock, to exhaustion. And as I write these final pages, swaying in a stupor of sleep deprivation, I wonder if anything I’m saying makes sense. Are these the ramblings of a mad woman or a sage? Neither. Just the chicken scratch of a very tired world traveler.