After a relatively painless Airberlin flight, I arrived in Bangkok about 12 hours travel time. As we exited the aircraft, a young airline hostess gave me a courteous wai, welcoming me to Asia. I had read a book about Thai culture before my trip and learned that the wai was the traditional form of greeting, thanking, or a sign of respect for the Thai people. There are different types of the wai depending on the relationship of the two people greeting or thanking each other. The wai is essentially two hands placed together finger to finger and palm to palm placed in front of the body as if in prayer followed by a short bow. The height of the hands in relation to the face and the depth of the bow reflect the status difference and the relationship between the two involved parties. If I, a commoner for example, were to wai a monk, my hands should be raised high in front of my lips and my bow should be low so that my head is lower than that of the monk as a sign of respect. I am still not sure what kind of wai I received from the airline hostess, but it is definitely a form of greeting I could get used to.
After picking up my backpack carefully weighed in at 15 Kg so as not to incur the excess weight charges air asia (the cheap airline) likes to impose, I decided to wait for my mom who was arriving an hour later on a flight from Hanoi. She had been traveling through Asia for a month already and we were going to meet some friends in Ayuthaya together. In fact the whole trip originally began with the 30th birthday celebration of some dear friends of ours from Berlin. Anja and Lutz are both avid rock climbers and on what I am sure was a drunken birthday celebration about ten years ago, cajoled their friends to commit to coming to Asia to celebrate their 40th birthday with a rock climbing adventure in Rai Ley, in Southern Thailand. They were presumably arriving three days later and we were going to meet them in Ayuthaya. My mom and I were going to spend two days exploring Bangkok before heading north to the old Royal city.
As I waited at the baggage claim carrousel number 12, I was surprised at the easy going to nature of the people around me. It did not resemble the hectic and aggressive nature I had experienced in Turkey only days before. People here were constantly smiling, kind and helpful, and I did not feel the slightest bit anxious. After about an hour I finally saw my mother waiting for her bags and snuck up on her. We had agreed to meet at the hotel, and she was surprised to see me. We got her bags and headed out the door.
We walked through the security gates and were immediately hounded by numerous taxi and shuttle drivers. Maybe my first impression of Thailand was misled. We avoided the masses and headed for the nearest cash machine. I extracted 2,000 Bhat and quickly realized that it would not last me very long (2,000 Bhat is only about 40 Euro). I decided to get a little bit more just in case. As we made our way through the aiport looking for the city bus into town, an older Thai man approached us and inquired where we were headed and if we needed help. After my Istanbul adventures I was skeptical but decided to give the guy a chance. He announced that the best and cheapest way to get into town would be by the airport express bus. True enough it only cost about 100 Bhat a person (aprox. 2 Euro) and took us within a block of our hotel. I threw my luggage onto the luggage rack and promptly passed out. About an hour later we pulled up to our stop.
The heat/humidity combination outside was stifling, as we marched down the street, bags in hand. A few minutes later, with beads of sweat collecting on my forehead, we arrived at the Navalai hotel. To make my transition easier, my mom generously invited me to stay at a nicer hotel for the first few nights in the heart of the Bangkok backpackers haven Khao San Road. The hotel at a whopping $30 US a night had all the amenities one could ask for. We had free wifi, air conditioning comfortable twin beds, a pool, and a great location. These are all things that would prove rare and unaffordable for me in the near future. The day was hot and the airplane food proved unsatisfying at keeping my appetite in check, so we decided to go get some local Thai cusine. We caught a ferry from our hotel and headed down the river. The boat was full of smiling locals. I enjoyed the cool breeze and admired the beautiful golden wats glittering along the shore of the curving river. As we turned to exit the boat I noticed a few monks dressed in bright orange robes standing at the back of the boat. Above their heads a sign read: Space for Monks. I later learned that monks are a very important part of Thai society and the influence of Buddhism is an integral factor in creating the compassion so apparent in the Thai people. A large majority of Thai men will partake in monk hood as young adults. We happened to be there during a transitional period that takes place every year around mid October. During this time men finish their 1-3 year monkship and immerse themselves back into mainstream society and new men sign up. Even the revered Thai king was a monk for ten years! Unlike in western society, religion is apparent everywhere here. You cannot go ten minutes without seeing a monk somewhere, be he riding on a ferry, cruising down the street in a tuk tuk, or simply strolling along the sidewalk.
We exited the boat and jumped onto a monorail, which provides fast and cheap and air-conditioned transport across the city. The shyness and quiet nature of the Thai people struck me immediately as I examined my surroundings. Most of their eyes were glued to tv screens scattered throughout the train. I looked to see what was so captivating. The TV monitors showed a constant stream of commercials. During our ten minute journey I saw advertisements for sun glasses, cell phone companies, and my favorite…the essence of chicken. It showed a guy at a bowling alley tired as hell sitting on a chair. Two girls come up to him and try to get him to have fun and he resists. Finally they pull out a bottle of essence of chicken and he drinks it and goes nuts. He bowls with one ball and then two and looks like he is on speed. I tried finding a link for the commercial but no luck.
From there we exited back into the heat and decided for the air-conditioned lunch option... the enormous Paragon mall. It was clean, cold, and the food was cheap and amazing. We walked through a few more malls, admired the culture of consumerism which seemed almost more intense than back home, and decided to finish off the night with a walk down Khao San road. Khao San road is the backpackers area or Bangkok. It is lined with hostels, restaurants, travel agents, bars, roadside food, people selling fake IDs, people advertising Thai Ping Pong shows, massage parlors, T-shirt stands, etc. The goods by the way are all cheap as hell. Before I left I was told not to bring any clothes and just buy my clothes upon arrival. T-shirts cost around 2 Euro a piece. After a great meal and a cold beer we headed back to our hotel for a good night of much needed sleep. I was exhausted.
Sunday, November 2, 2008
Thursday, October 30, 2008
The departure
Leaving the comfort of a home for a new unknown destination can be unnerving. For most of the people I know, home is that one place they know better than any other. I have many friends from college who will still refer to their childhood house as home, although they have been living elsewhere for the past 8 years. Their “home” is a place where they have memories spanning their lifetime, families, the room they grew up in, etc.. They understand the history of that place, the cultures, traditions, hangouts, colloquialisms of their hometown and nothing will replace it until they found a new home for themselves and even then that original home will still remain. Unlike the large majority of my friends, I did not grow up in the same town all my life, nor have the people or the culture and language stayed consistent, and I was never in one place long enough to truly know its streets, neighborhoods, restaurants etc. until Berlin. Since I was born I have never, without exception, lived in one place longer than 4 years in succession. The idea of home for me is like the temptations song Papa was a Rolling Stone: “Where I put my hat is my home”. Or better yet the quote from Garden State comes to mind:
“You know that point in your life when you realize that the house you grew up in isn’t really your home anymore…all of the sudden even though you have some place to put your shit, that idea of home is gone…or maybe it's like this rite of passage…you will never have that feeling again until you create a new idea of home for yourself, for your kids, for the family you start. It’s like a cycle or something. Maybe that’s all family really is: a group of people that miss the same imaginary place.”
Home was always something transient and the friends and memories I acquired in those places were either temporary or proved strong enough to withstand the challenge of distance and the confines of a physical location. With every time I left a home for a new one it gets easier and easier. I block out emotion and prepare myself for whatever new home awaits me. But this time it was harder than usual. In the hours before my flight I kept myself busy packing, saying good byes, and preparing for my departure. But as I zipped the last zipper on my backpack and looked around the apartment I had called home for the last three years, I felt a wave of anxiety. Maybe it is because I was heading for a region where I am unfamiliar with the languages, customs, religions, and laws, and maybe it is because I have no defined target and I am heading out to open sea in small boat cushioned only by what little money I could save up during the last season of bike tours, but without doubt a lot of it had to do with my love for Berlin. Berlin is the only place I have ever lived for more than 4 years, and more than any place, as long as I can remember, has become a home. I had lived in Berlin as a child and like many other places I formed memories there, but over the last 3 years I got to know Berlin in a way I had never managed to know any other place I had ever lived. On the one hand it was the first time in my life where there was no end date insight. The structure of school was over and the harsh reality of real life and survival followed and in that search for survival I found a job working as a bike tour guide for Fat Tire Bike Tours. The job surrounded me with fascinating people which like myself were transients, and it allowed me to explore Berlin and get to know the city in a way you can only do if its your job. I learned about Berlin’s unique history, its nightlife, streets, weather, and most importantly its unique spirit for life. I love Berlin. I was surprised to find that after leaving my apartment for the airport I did not look back once.
“You know that point in your life when you realize that the house you grew up in isn’t really your home anymore…all of the sudden even though you have some place to put your shit, that idea of home is gone…or maybe it's like this rite of passage…you will never have that feeling again until you create a new idea of home for yourself, for your kids, for the family you start. It’s like a cycle or something. Maybe that’s all family really is: a group of people that miss the same imaginary place.”
Home was always something transient and the friends and memories I acquired in those places were either temporary or proved strong enough to withstand the challenge of distance and the confines of a physical location. With every time I left a home for a new one it gets easier and easier. I block out emotion and prepare myself for whatever new home awaits me. But this time it was harder than usual. In the hours before my flight I kept myself busy packing, saying good byes, and preparing for my departure. But as I zipped the last zipper on my backpack and looked around the apartment I had called home for the last three years, I felt a wave of anxiety. Maybe it is because I was heading for a region where I am unfamiliar with the languages, customs, religions, and laws, and maybe it is because I have no defined target and I am heading out to open sea in small boat cushioned only by what little money I could save up during the last season of bike tours, but without doubt a lot of it had to do with my love for Berlin. Berlin is the only place I have ever lived for more than 4 years, and more than any place, as long as I can remember, has become a home. I had lived in Berlin as a child and like many other places I formed memories there, but over the last 3 years I got to know Berlin in a way I had never managed to know any other place I had ever lived. On the one hand it was the first time in my life where there was no end date insight. The structure of school was over and the harsh reality of real life and survival followed and in that search for survival I found a job working as a bike tour guide for Fat Tire Bike Tours. The job surrounded me with fascinating people which like myself were transients, and it allowed me to explore Berlin and get to know the city in a way you can only do if its your job. I learned about Berlin’s unique history, its nightlife, streets, weather, and most importantly its unique spirit for life. I love Berlin. I was surprised to find that after leaving my apartment for the airport I did not look back once.
Friday, October 17, 2008
Istanbul
The city of Istanbul is split between Europe and Asia by the beautiful Bosphorus River, making it the only city in the world to span two continents and a perfect transitional place to begin my Asian adventures.
I was in Istanbul for the first time about 10 years ago and admittedly forgot pretty much everything about the city except the magnitude of it’s mosques and the aggressive nature of it’s crowded bazaars. I was happy to find those two aspects of the city had not changed, but in adulthood I hope the impressions of the city will last longer and encompass the complexity and diversity of the city more completely than my first childhood experience of Constantinople.
Istanbul is a city of incredible beauty and culture. Anybody from the western world who sees Istanbul for the first time, will immediately be struck with aw by the multitude of beautiful mosques and their minarets rising towards the heavens across the city. Among the mosques you will find some of the most beautiful architectural treasures of the Muslim world including the New Mosque, the Blue Mosque (aka the Sultan Ahmed Mosque), and the renowned Hagia Sophia, which was the largest cathedral in the world for nearly 1000 years! Standing underneath the beautiful dome I couldn’t help but wonder how it is possible that such a marvel of engineering, built so long ago, could still be standing. Five times a day the minarets of Istanbul’s mosques come to life and call it’s muslim citizens (the large majority) to prayer, once just before sunrise, at noon, in the afternoon, at sunset, and at night. The singing was a constant reminder to take a moment, look around, and realize I was no longer in Europe as I knew it. I was on the road again.
Beginning at the Istanbul airport I was confronted with the natural state of traveling: the fear and awareness that somebody is trying to screw you. It is unfortunate but true that we live in a dog eat dog world and nowhere is that more true than in Istanbul. Within minutes after picking up our luggage, my father and I were confronted by a man wearing an official airport help badge who asked us where we were headed. We named our destination to which he replied the best way to reach it would be by shuttle. We stated that we preferred the bus and he said the bus would not stop at our desired destination and that a taxi would be too expensive. Although skeptical and hesitant we paid the aprox. 60 Euro for the two of us to take the shuttle to our hotel. Once we arrived we asked the hotel concierge how much a taxi would have cost from the airport. The total for both of us in a private taxi would have cost 40 Euro. Those bastards! So we realized our mistake and decided that we would go through our Turkey experience with more caution. We checked our bags and made our way through the city. We took a short funicular ride across the gorge and made our way towards the Taxim Square. As we walked down the street a little boy with a shoe shining kit passed by us and dropped a brush. I called after him but he did not respond so I picked up the brush and ran after him. Upon handing back the ‘clumsily’ fallen item the boy thanked me profusely and offered me a shoeshine, which I could hardly have refused looking down at my scuffed up and dusty pair of worn docs. As he was shining my shoes he asked politely where we were from but quickly proceeded into a well rehearsed talk about his poor sister who was sitting in the hospital with some kind of eye disease. He asked for 20 lira (15 Euro) so that he could support her. No no no we said. He asked how about 10? Not this time. It was a clearly thought our scam. The kid must have been 12! That bastard! This was apparently something that we would have to get used to.
Similar things happened over the next few days with Taxi drivers “forgetting to turn on the meter”, restaurant owners that forgot the price of the items they have been selling for 20 years, carpet salesmen, and bazaar handlers trying to charge us 3 times the market value for their goods. It got me in the true mindset of the traveler: Always be on your guard.
Despite the constant anxiety and fear of being cheated out of my last dime, I did enjoy other aspects of the culture. A very important part of my father and I’s daily ritual was the daily dose of caffeine in the form of Turkish coffee and/or the Turkish Tea. Throughout Istanbul you will see cafes full of men drinking their tea and coffee. Sexism is still rampant in that part of the world and you will find generally only men sitting at some of these cafes. We even encountered a restaurant where women had to eat upstairs and the downstairs was reserved for men.
We also indulged ourselves in the age old tradition of the Turkish bath. Although pleasant the experience could be likened to being put through a relaxation factory. You entered into the main hall where you decided upon the type of bath: self wash, massage, employee wash, scrub, etc., paid, and got assigned to a cabin number. You entered into the cabin where you stripped down and wrapped yourself in a red cloth. (By the way there was a color system. Red was for customers, blue for workers, yellow for the photographer, and white for the finished customers. White flip flops were for the self bathing customers and wooden sandals for the employee bathed customers.) From there you were ushered into the main bath hall where you were given a moment to sweat and then laid on the hot central stone for a pummeling massage. From there you were sent on for a rinse, a lather, and then another rinse. Then you were scrubbed thoroughly by an employee that was sure to ask for a tip at the end. After this you were rinsed again and allowed to stay as you wished to soak up the steam and again reminded that a tip would be desired as you left. Although it was a bit rushed and the constant asking for tips was a bit of an annoyance and a contradiction to the mission of such a venue, it is something I strongly recommend doing at least once in a lifetime.
We also ate incredibly well throughout the trip. The Turks tend to begin their meals with a mix of hot and cold appetizers (mezes) before heading into their meal. Without exception the food was amazing. The same cannot be said for the wine, but the local beer: Efes, is quite good. We also enjoyed an incredible scenic boat tour of the Bosphorus, where we road up to the opening of the Black Sea. The trip took about three hours each way and is a must do for the 15 Euro round trip, should you ever be in Istanbul.
After about 3 days in Istanbul we took a rental car to the city of Edirna near the Greek border. We visited some more impressive mosques, ate some more impressive food, and on the next day decided to take the car over to Greece for a quick lunch before heading back to Istanbul. After we crossed the Turkish side of the border, we headed through the no mans land towards Greece. We were stopped at a second checkpoint where we were mistaken for a father and son team of drug dealers from Germany that must have crossed earlier in the week and we were pulled to the side. Our car was emptied and put through a giant X-ray machine. When the mistake became clear about an hour later we were back on our way towards the Greek side of the no mans land. It turns out all rental cars are screened especially as they cross the border. As we approached the last Turkish checkpoint towards Greece we were asked for our “Triptee”. Our what? Our Triptee!...some kind of international car insurance, which we did not have. They sent us back to buy some in the practical no mans land insurance store. We decided that it was too much stress and that we would just head back to Turkey, but as we tried to cross the check point back into Turkey they asked us for …. Yes our “Triptee”. We replied that we had none so they sent us to buy some in the no mans land insurance store. We were in a catch 22 stuck in nomans land. We required a Triptee to go into either Greece or to go back to Turkey. Those bastards! As we lined up at the counter to buy this necessary paperwork I looked at the sign. It would cost us aprox. 200 Euro. But as they tried to process our insurance the computer would not allow the rental car designated for Turkey to get the needed insurance. We went back to the checkpoint and they sent us to a confinement area. Thank god the good people of Hertz rentals and the argumentative skills of my father got us out of this catch 22. We made it back to Turkey after 2 hours of this fiasco. And so We headed back to Istanbul for one last dinner, and the next day departed for Berlin with a slightly bitter taste of Turkey on our lips.
I was in Istanbul for the first time about 10 years ago and admittedly forgot pretty much everything about the city except the magnitude of it’s mosques and the aggressive nature of it’s crowded bazaars. I was happy to find those two aspects of the city had not changed, but in adulthood I hope the impressions of the city will last longer and encompass the complexity and diversity of the city more completely than my first childhood experience of Constantinople.
Istanbul is a city of incredible beauty and culture. Anybody from the western world who sees Istanbul for the first time, will immediately be struck with aw by the multitude of beautiful mosques and their minarets rising towards the heavens across the city. Among the mosques you will find some of the most beautiful architectural treasures of the Muslim world including the New Mosque, the Blue Mosque (aka the Sultan Ahmed Mosque), and the renowned Hagia Sophia, which was the largest cathedral in the world for nearly 1000 years! Standing underneath the beautiful dome I couldn’t help but wonder how it is possible that such a marvel of engineering, built so long ago, could still be standing. Five times a day the minarets of Istanbul’s mosques come to life and call it’s muslim citizens (the large majority) to prayer, once just before sunrise, at noon, in the afternoon, at sunset, and at night. The singing was a constant reminder to take a moment, look around, and realize I was no longer in Europe as I knew it. I was on the road again.
Beginning at the Istanbul airport I was confronted with the natural state of traveling: the fear and awareness that somebody is trying to screw you. It is unfortunate but true that we live in a dog eat dog world and nowhere is that more true than in Istanbul. Within minutes after picking up our luggage, my father and I were confronted by a man wearing an official airport help badge who asked us where we were headed. We named our destination to which he replied the best way to reach it would be by shuttle. We stated that we preferred the bus and he said the bus would not stop at our desired destination and that a taxi would be too expensive. Although skeptical and hesitant we paid the aprox. 60 Euro for the two of us to take the shuttle to our hotel. Once we arrived we asked the hotel concierge how much a taxi would have cost from the airport. The total for both of us in a private taxi would have cost 40 Euro. Those bastards! So we realized our mistake and decided that we would go through our Turkey experience with more caution. We checked our bags and made our way through the city. We took a short funicular ride across the gorge and made our way towards the Taxim Square. As we walked down the street a little boy with a shoe shining kit passed by us and dropped a brush. I called after him but he did not respond so I picked up the brush and ran after him. Upon handing back the ‘clumsily’ fallen item the boy thanked me profusely and offered me a shoeshine, which I could hardly have refused looking down at my scuffed up and dusty pair of worn docs. As he was shining my shoes he asked politely where we were from but quickly proceeded into a well rehearsed talk about his poor sister who was sitting in the hospital with some kind of eye disease. He asked for 20 lira (15 Euro) so that he could support her. No no no we said. He asked how about 10? Not this time. It was a clearly thought our scam. The kid must have been 12! That bastard! This was apparently something that we would have to get used to.
Similar things happened over the next few days with Taxi drivers “forgetting to turn on the meter”, restaurant owners that forgot the price of the items they have been selling for 20 years, carpet salesmen, and bazaar handlers trying to charge us 3 times the market value for their goods. It got me in the true mindset of the traveler: Always be on your guard.
Despite the constant anxiety and fear of being cheated out of my last dime, I did enjoy other aspects of the culture. A very important part of my father and I’s daily ritual was the daily dose of caffeine in the form of Turkish coffee and/or the Turkish Tea. Throughout Istanbul you will see cafes full of men drinking their tea and coffee. Sexism is still rampant in that part of the world and you will find generally only men sitting at some of these cafes. We even encountered a restaurant where women had to eat upstairs and the downstairs was reserved for men.
We also indulged ourselves in the age old tradition of the Turkish bath. Although pleasant the experience could be likened to being put through a relaxation factory. You entered into the main hall where you decided upon the type of bath: self wash, massage, employee wash, scrub, etc., paid, and got assigned to a cabin number. You entered into the cabin where you stripped down and wrapped yourself in a red cloth. (By the way there was a color system. Red was for customers, blue for workers, yellow for the photographer, and white for the finished customers. White flip flops were for the self bathing customers and wooden sandals for the employee bathed customers.) From there you were ushered into the main bath hall where you were given a moment to sweat and then laid on the hot central stone for a pummeling massage. From there you were sent on for a rinse, a lather, and then another rinse. Then you were scrubbed thoroughly by an employee that was sure to ask for a tip at the end. After this you were rinsed again and allowed to stay as you wished to soak up the steam and again reminded that a tip would be desired as you left. Although it was a bit rushed and the constant asking for tips was a bit of an annoyance and a contradiction to the mission of such a venue, it is something I strongly recommend doing at least once in a lifetime.
We also ate incredibly well throughout the trip. The Turks tend to begin their meals with a mix of hot and cold appetizers (mezes) before heading into their meal. Without exception the food was amazing. The same cannot be said for the wine, but the local beer: Efes, is quite good. We also enjoyed an incredible scenic boat tour of the Bosphorus, where we road up to the opening of the Black Sea. The trip took about three hours each way and is a must do for the 15 Euro round trip, should you ever be in Istanbul.
After about 3 days in Istanbul we took a rental car to the city of Edirna near the Greek border. We visited some more impressive mosques, ate some more impressive food, and on the next day decided to take the car over to Greece for a quick lunch before heading back to Istanbul. After we crossed the Turkish side of the border, we headed through the no mans land towards Greece. We were stopped at a second checkpoint where we were mistaken for a father and son team of drug dealers from Germany that must have crossed earlier in the week and we were pulled to the side. Our car was emptied and put through a giant X-ray machine. When the mistake became clear about an hour later we were back on our way towards the Greek side of the no mans land. It turns out all rental cars are screened especially as they cross the border. As we approached the last Turkish checkpoint towards Greece we were asked for our “Triptee”. Our what? Our Triptee!...some kind of international car insurance, which we did not have. They sent us back to buy some in the practical no mans land insurance store. We decided that it was too much stress and that we would just head back to Turkey, but as we tried to cross the check point back into Turkey they asked us for …. Yes our “Triptee”. We replied that we had none so they sent us to buy some in the no mans land insurance store. We were in a catch 22 stuck in nomans land. We required a Triptee to go into either Greece or to go back to Turkey. Those bastards! As we lined up at the counter to buy this necessary paperwork I looked at the sign. It would cost us aprox. 200 Euro. But as they tried to process our insurance the computer would not allow the rental car designated for Turkey to get the needed insurance. We went back to the checkpoint and they sent us to a confinement area. Thank god the good people of Hertz rentals and the argumentative skills of my father got us out of this catch 22. We made it back to Turkey after 2 hours of this fiasco. And so We headed back to Istanbul for one last dinner, and the next day departed for Berlin with a slightly bitter taste of Turkey on our lips.
Friday, September 26, 2008
Vorfreude ist die beste Freude
The German language is generally not considered a romantic language, but I would have to disagree. Sure when a German speaks, it is best to wear a raincoat when standing anywhere within a 5 foot radius, and the Frenchman may cringe at the sound of German poetry, but of the two languages I know (English and German), German has incredible romance in its ideas and expressions.
The expression "Vorfreude ist die beste Freude" means essentially that anticipation yields the greatest enjoyment. In anticipation, one can expect anything and so you get enjoyment out of an unlimited potential of possibilities. I find myself in anticipation of what may be the most exciting trip of my life. I am two weeks away from departing on a one way flight to South East Asia. All I have booked so far is a flight to Bangkok and a few flights around Thailand aber ich habe ganz Suedost Asien auf dem Gewissen. The unknown is exciting and a bit scary. I have no commitment as of now and so my trip is open ended. I figure I am but young once, and I do not want to go through life with any regrets. Most of my friends assume wrongly that I am well traveled. Yes, I have seen more countries than most, but many of those trips happened either very long ago, with somebody, or in the lap of atleast semi luxury. I want to take this rare opportunity to go see the world. I have never been to Asia, never really traveled on my own, and never travelled without an end date in sight. I am excited to discover something new and more importantly use this as a growth experience for myself. I invite you the reader to come along and share my joys, my trouble, my growth, and my pain. Perhaps you are stuck in a cubicle somewhere and need to live vicariously through somebody else until you get your chance to escape and see the world. Whatever the case my writing will be here for you or maybe only for myself, but it will be here.
"A good traveler has no fixed plans, and is not intent on arriving." ~ Lao Tzu
The expression "Vorfreude ist die beste Freude" means essentially that anticipation yields the greatest enjoyment. In anticipation, one can expect anything and so you get enjoyment out of an unlimited potential of possibilities. I find myself in anticipation of what may be the most exciting trip of my life. I am two weeks away from departing on a one way flight to South East Asia. All I have booked so far is a flight to Bangkok and a few flights around Thailand aber ich habe ganz Suedost Asien auf dem Gewissen. The unknown is exciting and a bit scary. I have no commitment as of now and so my trip is open ended. I figure I am but young once, and I do not want to go through life with any regrets. Most of my friends assume wrongly that I am well traveled. Yes, I have seen more countries than most, but many of those trips happened either very long ago, with somebody, or in the lap of atleast semi luxury. I want to take this rare opportunity to go see the world. I have never been to Asia, never really traveled on my own, and never travelled without an end date in sight. I am excited to discover something new and more importantly use this as a growth experience for myself. I invite you the reader to come along and share my joys, my trouble, my growth, and my pain. Perhaps you are stuck in a cubicle somewhere and need to live vicariously through somebody else until you get your chance to escape and see the world. Whatever the case my writing will be here for you or maybe only for myself, but it will be here.
"A good traveler has no fixed plans, and is not intent on arriving." ~ Lao Tzu
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
