Just A Thought: The Final Trip

I had a dinner gathering the other night with some beautiful people I had not seen in twenty years.

It was only natural that we would, within the first few minutes, try to catch up and clear up as much as possible. It was then that I learned the reason why an ex-colleague had passed away a few years back. She had succumbed to cancer. She was so young. As the saying goes, she went too soon.

They say Death is a great leveler. It happens to everyone regardless of creed or color, status or wealth, or whether you are young or old (er). You never really know when your time will come. But even before it does, perhaps a question to ask is:

"When it is your time, can you cross over without regrets?"

I have always thought about that. Avoiding regret seems to be the key motivator to make the 'right' choices in life. Even then, there really isn't a guarantee that those choices would ever be enough to say you've lived a life free of regret. Still, as a traveler, you are sometimes forced to have that thought at the back of your head. You always have to be prepared for the worst.

Sure, air travel is supposed to be safer than even driving. Yet there are families who consciously choose to travel on separate carriers during family vacays to have a greater chance of lineage survival should one airplane go down. When you read the human stories of disasters like MH370 and AF447, that preparedness suddenly becomes almost all too necessary.

I never get on a plane thinking that someday the NTSB will find my body still strapped to my fully flat seat, in a field somewhere in the middle of Eastern Europe. For those on that ill fated flight, I am sure they didn't think that either. I have had some scares inflight before but they have never been enough to deter me from packing my bags. I take the view that if it is my time, then I might as well go doing what I love:

Travel.

However, there is a flip side to such a great activity. Frequent flyers can lose their sense of foundation since they tend to be everywhere yet nowhere. Relationship building becomes a challenge and everything goes on a punctuated speed mode. So sometimes, people get an approximation of 'you'. But do they really get 'you'?

So I asked myself: Do people really know me, what I stand for, who I love and loved, what I hoped for myself and for others? Will there be nothing of me afterwards that would be a memorial to a life once lived? Do I have a legacy, even if not in living form like children, that can show that I have done enough?

Over lunch today, deep in thought, I had an epiphany.

I looked around my home. And it spoke back to me. From every corner, floor to ceiling, there was a story to be told.

The beautiful gold leaf artwork on the wall that I got from Jatujak market in Bangkok. The little hand carved doll of a traditional pottery maker in Budapest. The Iznik plates that I got from a boy in Istanbul. The 1:400 scale model airplanes of the various airlines I flew over the years. And of course the entire wall of city magnets from virtually every place I have visited on the side of my refrigerator.

Oprah used to say your home should rise up to meet you. And almost subconsciously, that was how I set mine up. Through many years of exploring this globe, I have been able to place a nugget, a gem of  a memory in every open corner.

Each memory is a chapter. Every chapter is set in some wonderful place in the world. The chapters are part of a book. The book tells the story of my life and features characters from around the globe.

The artwork was by a female artist, the only one in the market that day. I believe in female empowerment so supporting her was important to me. I learned a lot about her creative process though talking with her. I was enriched beyond just appreciating a beautiful painting.

I bought the doll when the young shop assistant told me that there were only two design stores in Budapest, and that they were the only point of sales for young up and coming artists (read: struggling art graduates). I always buy from young talent to help give them a chance, especially in non developed economies. I never forget the generosity I received from strangers when I started out, so wherever I can I pay it forward.

I got the plates after I had my life threatened in Istanbul by thugs in the dead of winter. The boy listened to my story, and told me his own story of coming in from the surrounding rural mountainous areas to find a better life in the capital city, only to discover first hand the dangers of living there. We found safety in our human connection. And now I see him in my home every time I see the plates.

I now have more planes than I have space to display them. But when I look at my collection, I realize how lucky I am to have been able to fly these carriers, in some aircrafts that are not even flying anymore today.

These are just some of the stories that reveal facets of my life. But my story involves many many other lives. Altogether though, I realize my home is my living memorial. And when my time comes, one would just need to come by, look around, and see how blessed my life had been.

They may not be able to hear the details of why each of these items found a spot in my apartment, but if they listen real close, they might be able to hear the whispers of different voices and languages, and perhaps even imagine what it might have been like to have been there when these items were still in their home countries.

So they would not need to mourn me with tears. They should celebrate the fact that for the short while I walked this planet, I had the good fortune, through my travels, to walk with many others on their own journeys.

The life of a traveler is a never ending journey full of gratitude not regret.

Crossing over? It is just another journey.

Tales from a Trip: The Les Miserables Lessons for Travel

The new Les Miz movie is about to debut on Christmas Day with previews already making their rounds.

So for the past few days, I've been getting panda eyes from lack of sleep and lots of crying, pouring over anything Les Miz on the web.

The story stands the test of time because of its universal themes.  Hope, redemption, love, forgiveness, starting fresh, paying it forward.

Now how is Les Miz relevant to a travel blog?

I've always wondered why people travel.

For some it is work driven.  You get put on a plane, then into a hotel, sent to offices for meetings, forced into bits of over indulgent evening entertainment, maybe get an hour to yourself, then put back on the plane home.

For others, it is pleasure driven.  It a respite from the day to day of your life. Perhaps a sort of escape. Or even a way to validate the goodness of your existence and reality when you visit countries that aren't as prosperous as yours.

There are many reasons of course.  But the most pressing question would be: What do you truly see and hear when you travel?  Or is it just a geographical difference for you?

Not too long ago, I visited a friend in London.  We were planning to spend a Sunday together.  However, he got tired out after staying out at the clubs the night before.

It was not a big deal.  This was London.  Lots to do.

I went to Greenwich.   It is a World Heritage Site and I make it a point to visit these locations during my travels.  There was a weekend market where I had a wonderful traditional beef dish that was coated in melted cheese.  The air was a little nippy and the hot meal was superb even if you had to stand on the streets to finish it off.

I wasn't sure of where else to go and ventured into a nearby area that had wonderful architecture.  Didn't seem very busy so I walked around.  Then I heard something amazing.

It was coming from one of the buildings.  I zeroed in on the music and peered through a window but could not see much. I made out the shapes of a few people around a piano.  They must have seen me, this Asian gawking though the glass. They must have thought I was weird.

Truth is I love musical theater.  And the quick realization that I had stumbled upon a class of sorts of musical theater students rehearsing something was like a gift. Their voices were resplendent.  And through their singing, I could make out parts of a story, and imagined how it might be staged.

I stood next to the window for about an hour, trying to be discreet, and hoping security would not be called on me.  I admired the sense of dedication and passion that was communicated through their voices.  I felt re-energized somehow.

I realized that some of my best travel experiences have been unexpected.  And largely due to just exploring without expectations. If one can draw parallels, it is like Marius only seeing Eponine as this concept of a person, rather than seeing her as someone who loved him enough to sacrifice her own happiness for him.  If we travel with fixed ideas about people and destinations, we lose the benefit of what they can truly provide.

Travel without really opening up your eyes and ears to what is around you, rather than what you project to your environment, limits the beauty and the lessons from your experience.

I was in Istanbul in winter.  It was dead cold.  Snow up to the knees.  My day tours were semi-disasters.  And my life was threatened at one point by a bunch of thugs.

Still I wanted to make the best of it.

I made the Grand Bazaar my comfort zone.  At least it was warmer than the outside, central, and had lot of things to do and see that could keep me busy for hours.

Being winter, customers were pretty thin, and Asian faces even lesser.  I was an immediate target.  Eventually I made contact with a few shop keepers.  Some of them were young and it became easy to start chats with them.

They started out trying to scam me to buy their stuff at inflated prices.  I was a little too savvy to be tricked.  And eventually the barriers came down and we began to communicate well.

The more we talked the more we realized that we may have had pre-conceptions about each other that were not true.  Many of the shop keepers were not from Istanbul.  They came from neighboring cities and towns and were lured by the promise of a better life in the capital.  Most came to the consensus, for those that lived there, that Istanbul was not the gilded city.  It was a dangerous one where they would not even venture out at night if they could help it.

It was something I learned the hard way.  And I experienced something that I never thought I would. I faced a crisis.  And it forced me to be creative in how to get out of it. I did, but it rattled me.

I turned to the shop keepers as an outlet to vent and to get some kind of support. They gave that to me. I received kindness and sympathy.  I remember a blue eyed Turk saying he would leave the shop early to have dinner with me, because being alone in the dead of winter in Istanbul truly was not a good idea.

I realized how important it is to render help when you can.  Even a kind word may be helpful.  The shop keepers gave a little bit of security back to me at a time when, as a lone traveler, I felt violated.  They did not have to, they just did.  Just as Jean Valjean in Les Miz paid it forward after he was saved, it is important to extend the blessings that has been given to you.

It is extraordinary that I have received remarkable kindness from others. When you travel without your name cards and histories, nobody knows who you are, and you have a clean slate. People relate to you as a human being.

Jean Valjean stole a load of bread and was jailed for 19 years.  Inspector Javert refused to see that a man could be more than just one act, that the breadth of life was not determined by something done in a few minutes, that every person was capable of more.  If everyone was like the priest who bought Valjean's soul for God with silver, and assumed that everyone was innately good, imagine the possibilities.

Everyone deserves a clean slate, a fresh start, to gain hope and to receive love.

When I travel, I am exactly how I want to be, and who I am when I look at my own spiritual mirror.  I don't have to play a role for the benefit of others.  I don't have to live it up or live it down.  I am happiest when I meet people from those living on the streets to those managing empires.  They only have to deal with the person I am now, not the complications of past lives.

Again, it is rather like Les Miz isn't it?  If Valjean had not broken parole to start a new life in the small town, he would not have been allowed to prove his worth and eventually to begin a new chapter as mayor.

So, I carry with me the importance of the lessons from Les Miz everywhere I go. Hope, redemption, love, forgiveness, starting fresh, paying it forward.  Travel isn't just about stepping on different soil or being in my comfort zone for me.  It really is microcosmic of Life itself, where you must connect on a human level and experience differences to grow and to renew.  Every place I go, every face I see, is a renewed opportunity to write a new positive chapter with someone else in some other place.

And that is truly why I travel.

I take pictures of my foot on the ground to remind me that I am but a guest of the land
and for that one moment I was there.

Travel IQ: Is the water safe to drink in Thailand?

A friend asked me this question.

Speaking from my own experience, traveling from Bangkok to Chiangmai, Pattaya to Hua Hin, Khao Lak and Khao Yai and beyond, I have found the tap water safe to drink.

Of course, this is anecdotal evidence and any traveler must keep his wits about him. And there are other factors to consider such as the disposition of the traveler and whether the place he is visiting is a remote location or a major city.

What IS known is that as of 1999, the Mahidol University confirms that the water in the metropolitan Bangkok area is potable.  In fact the water of most of the big cities in Thailand do meet WHO standards.

Naturally, to err on the side of caution, you may be advised to buy bottled water, especially since it is cheap in Thailand.  But think about the delicious green curry you want to experience in restaurants across Thailand.  Do you think that those restaurants would be cooking with bottled water?

Have you heard of tourists dying from eating green curry?

Just a thought.