Jeffrey’s Journey

I originally wrote the blog with one goal in mind: to have it somehow encourage others to travel.

I wrote the blog because I have always loved traveling and what it does to people. It opens eyes and as Mark Twain says, “travel is fatal to prejudice.” Those are some of the many effects of travel and what it does. It takes away the fear of the unknown and replaces it with respect, understanding, and an insatiable curiosity for the world. We don’t just live in a city, or state, or in a box, we all live on the planet Earth, and we, especially young Americans, have an obligation to it as Citizens of the World.

Hopefully, my blog has contributed the push. It’s fine if my blog was only a

form reality show like the Truman Show for you; if it provided laughs I’m

happy. Maybe you sat in your cubicle sipping your coffee while reading my blog when there was downtime at work. That’s great. But my hope, and my reason for writing in the first place, is to bring the fruits of travel to others and inspire those who want to travel to take the plunge. Whether directly or indirectly, I hope my traveling has inspired someone to go on their own travels, on trips further and grander than my own, or maybe just a one week trip to somewhere you normally wouldn’t take a vacation to. And maybe to those who are undecided about taking a trip, my blog will add that little push to help you take off. Maybe 20 years from now, someone’s child will want to go on a long trip and because his or her parent followed along with my blog the request won’t seem so crazy and they’ll understand a little more. It could be that one night someone will be surfing the web and stumbles upon this website and it inspired them to go on a trip of their own. Whatever the reason for reading, if my blog inspires someone to travel now or 20 years from now, it has served it’s purpose. I truly believe this world will be a better place if everyone spent a little more time outside their own borders. This journey has truly been one of the best decisions I’ve ever made in my life.

“Coming home meant coming down. It was easier to stay up. I’d return home to piles of bills and an empty refrigerator. Buying groceries, I’d get lost- too many aisles, too many choices; cool mist blowing over fresh fruit; paper or plastic; cash back in return? I’d wanted emotion but couldn’t find it here, so I settled for motion.

Out at night, weaving through traffic, looking for trouble, I’d lose myself in crowds. Gaggles of girls with fruit-colored drinks talked about face products and film production. I’d see their lips move, look at their snapshot smiles and highlighted hair. I didn’t know what to say.

The more I was away, the worse it got. I’d come back and couldn’t speak the language. Out there the pain was palpable, you breathed it in the air. Back here, no one talked about life and death. No one seemed to understand. I’d go to movies, see friends, but after a couple days I’d catch myself reading plane schedules, looking for something, someplace to go…”

-Anderson Cooper

I had been meaning to buy his book for a while now, but today the book found me at the right time with the right passage. The passage above speaks to me so loud and clear I can feel every emotion the author feels and I’m sure he has felt the raw struggle I am going through now. And it’s funny how I still do a double take every time they ask, “Cash Back?” It’s so fucking bizarre.

Today I was scanning the web and reading about travel as I usually do. I find myself going back to travel sites because reading about travel budgeting, guesthouses, airline companies and the daily ins and outs of travel generates this half-smiling nostalgia that in some sick way acts like a support group during this transitional (euphemism for “extremely unproductive”) time in my life. Then I started reading about the upcoming travels of others and thinking about what my next step should be (going to school/getting a job/etc.) and that’s when it happened. I had some sort of attack, a panic attack maybe. At first it just felt extremely hot, so I took off my sweater, not thinking anything of it except it was just really hot, but soon I felt like I was overheating and had to drench my face in the icy water from the sink, over and over. Then my breathing became irregular and it felt as if the air had thinned because I was having trouble getting enough air into my lungs yet I instinctively cupped my hands together like it was a brown bag, trying to breathe the same air I was exhaling. It was a fucking anxiety attack. If you threw that song from Kill Bill’s soundtrack on, it would have been perfect. In the middle of this irregular breathing, I got into my car and drove off, tunnel visioned and without my full-functioning senses, ending up at the place I usually go to when I’m somewhere other than at home, the bookstore. I don’t know why I headed to the bookstore but I think I treat it as an oracle when I’m in need of answers because it seems my answer has to lie within the mountains of text somewhere.

I entered and naturally headed for the corner of the bookstore where the travel section was. I got a stool and planted myself in front of the travel writing section and I just stared while taking long hard breaths… the title of one book would come into focus and then another one, and then another one, and I just sat there until I probably read all the titles of the books in the travel section before I finally opened one and read the short story that I flipped to. Ironically, the story was about coming home from a long journey and feeling the emotions that brought me to the bookstore in the first place, except I don’t think the author had a panic attack or anything so dramatic, but I still felt his words.

Reading words by other travelers is therapy. It’s always been a type of therapy when I’m lost or unsure of things. Many times I feel like having the vagabonding mindset or a traveler’s soul means you feel like there’s a disconnect between your own values and goals and that of everyone else around you, and sometimes that’s a lonely place to be. Reading the words of others who ‘gets it’ during those lost or unsure moments helps me reaffirm that I’m not alone in this and I’m not crazy. There have been others before me and there will always be others who ‘gets it.’

Some of the other questions commonly being asked since I’ve been back are… What have you learned? What’s the one thing that took away from the trip? And once in a while, there’s a playful question of asking if I’ve achieved enlightenment in my journey. Sorry, no enlightenment, sad to say, not even close. However, now that the dust has settled from my final landing, the answers to those questions are beginning to appear, questions I don’t think I would have been capable of answering while on my trip.

Some of the most memorable things I’ve leaned range from the cultural, to the philosophical, to the interpersonal and I couldn’t list every lesson in one entry, but I’ll run through the one’s that are standing out in my mind now. It’s funny, one of the most important lessons I’ve learned is so simple it gets taught to kindergartners and yet a lesson so neglected throughout our lives, it seems that it is often forgotten among our most educated. That lesson came at the beginning of my trip from a monk during a meditation class in Thailand. I was terrible in meditation but I vividly remember the moment he said those words of wisdom, and I’ve taken those words with me till’ this day. Those words were:

“Everyone is the same. We all have one mind and one heart.”

At first, I didn’t realize just how important and wise those words were. They seemed obvious and redundant and undeserving of much thought. But later, again and again throughout my trip, there were instances that brought me back to that afternoon, sitting in front of the monk in the Thai temple when he uttered those words. With each flashback, I slowly realized just how much substance those simple words had. It doesn’t matter what religion you are or where you live, what color you are or how much money you have, there are some things all of us have in common, and those things are always the most important of things, matters that really count. I had the flashback of the monk when I saw a father lovingly hold his infant daughter in Vietnam, and seeing the very same sight in the streets of Nepal, Taiwan, and India months later. I sometimes have the flashback when I see smiles because smiles and laughter have no language. They’ll always be uplifting and contagious, no matter how different people seem to be and where they come from because it’s the language of the heart, and it’s the reason why we will always be able to communicate with each other, especially when that’s all you’ve got. And smiles and laughter will always be enough. The thing is, we all respond to kindness and want to be treated with kindness. Throughout the world, there will always be men who are seemingly different as can be, men who will never meet, but they will hold their daughters and love their daughters identically, and this happens throughout the world, every day and every night. All parents love their children and that’s not cultural, it’s because we all have one mind and one heart.

I’ve learned that it’s okay to be scared. What’s not okay is to let the fear dictate and make decisions for you and stop you from doing what you need to do, want to do, or what you were meant to do. The only real failure is the failure to try.

I’m convinced that there are some bad people in the world, but the vast majority of the people are good. Too often we think a place is “dangerous” or “bad” because we fear the unknown or we judge the whole population by the few bad apples that make our evening propaganda news. Literally every country I’ve been to, with the exception of Singapore, someone has given me a warning on how evil, how vile, how dishonest, how low-class and dangerous the place is but it was never the case when I went for myself to see. And when someone gives you that kind of warning, if you ask whether they themselves have actually been to the country of topic, I mean truly have experienced the country, and the most likely answer is that they haven’t. Keep in mind, along with the bad people, there is crime everywhere, and often, from a statistical standpoint, the countries some of us think of as dangerous or backwards have even lower crime rates than the place we call home. I would encourage anyone who’s not completely mindless and witless to go and see for yourself. I can recall experiences in every country where the warm hearts of the locals have overwhelmed me with such acts of kindness and generously, and often these locals have next to nothing, which make those acts even more precious and touching.

Another lesson I’ve learned and relearned is to trust your own instincts. Sometimes, all you’ve got is a smile and your instincts in a foreign land and I can’t express enough how important both of these were to my own travels. For me, personally, my instincts have always told the truth. This isn’t to say I’ve always followed them because there have been times I went against them and paid the price but my instinct was still right at the end. And this isn’t to say that you should only listen to your instincts when it’s telling you something isn’t right, you should also listen to your instincts wholeheartedly when it’s telling you that everything is right about a certain decision or a certain person. I can’t begin to tell you the rewards I’ve reaped from the people I’ve decided to trust based on instinct. I’m convinced everyone has a Spidey sense in them, whether we allow ourselves to hear it or not, that’s up to us.

When I first returned, one of my very best friends asked me, if you’ve learned one lesson or one thing, what would it be? I’ve never thought about that question, and it’s a hard question, but the answer came surprisingly easy to me. Without much thought I said if there was one thing I learned, it would be that there’s hope in the world and I’m convinced of it. I’m convinced of it because over and over again, I’ve seen acts of love, selflessness, and the kindness of strangers in all of the different places I’ve been. I’ve seen it enough to believe that humans are not inherently evil (at least I refuse to believe that) and there is so much potential to do better. I have a renewed faith in humanity that the future will be better than the past for the human race because people still care. But I’m also aware that we have huge problems in this world, including an over abundance of idiot-heads-of-state, a threatening apathetic attitude towards pollution and destroying our environment, prejudice, destitute levels of the poor and homeless, civil strife and inequalities, but I believe things can slowly change. Of course, I don’t have the solution to the above problems but I’m sure the answer partly lies in information and education, everyone doing their part to minimize harmful effects to our world (like using less plastics), and good people standing up for the people who aren’t able to stand up for themselves. I know this isn’t much, but for the first time I have reason to have faith in the form of countless good people I met across international borders that things can and will be better.

Now, after being home for a while, the questions on how my travels were are slowly dying down and the novelty that first surrounded me when I got back has thinned to a point where it has almost completely vanished.

The way I’ve been spending my time has been low-key and unproductive, partly due to the fact that it took me two and a half weeks to get over my jet lag (the first 2 weeks I probably witnessed no more than 10 hours of combined daylight), and the other reason for my unproductiveness is my denial that I will actually stay at home now. For instance, I lost my driver’s license but haven’t bothered to get another because in some way, getting another license would mean I was planning on staying here. And truthfully, I think I had so much trouble getting over my jet lag because I really didn’t want to. In retrospect, I believe subconsciously I wanted to be on Asia time because it was my way of holding on to an amazing experience and denying that it’s now over, and even waking up when Asia did and sleeping when Asia slept gave me a small piece of comfort, made me feel like I was still connected to that beautiful continent, still somewhere that wasn’t… here. I love Asia for all it’s beguiling grit and enchanting idiosyncrasies, and I know that I’ll be back in the lands that I’ve fallen in love with many times more in the future.

And there are quite a few frequently asked questions about “the trip.” One of which is “So what country did you like the best?” I understand that it’s probably the most natural question to ask and I’d probably fire off that question to someone coming back from the same kind of trip, but I also cringe a little when asked that. I cringe because I don’t know. Within a country, there are many different areas and many sub-cultures. I know that Bangkok is different from a village in Northern Thailand is different from an island community in Southern Thailand. I know village life is different from the lifestyle in a mega city such as Kathmandu. Technically, I’ve been to India before, but I’m damn sure I haven’t seen the real India yet. I feel I haven’t seen enough of each country or stayed long enough to understand the country and it’s people in a level that I want; that takes months if not years and you have to be much more than a tourist passing through before a country completely reveals itself to you. You have to be a part of it’s societal web. It’s just like if someone says they love the US after being in New York for a week, you’d have to ask if they are talking about the East Coast or the West Coast, or are they talking about New Orleans and the culture of the South, or have they been to Hicksville and found it amazing. With Alaska and Hawaii, the dirty south, the bible belt, and even the different vibes of Northern and Southern California, the US could very well be a bunch of different countries with different cultures if it wasn’t for the border that defines all those subcultures as one country. It’s just the same with other countries, and I feel that I haven’t seen enough of a certain country or been able to dig deep enough fairly answer that question. And if I did have that opportunity with each country, I’m sure I might be further from having an answer.

Also, when someone asks which country I liked best, I want to ask, “Well, best what?” I’ve had different wonderful experiences in each country: I was left in awe at the natural beauty of Laos, in Taiwan I experienced the satisfaction of discovering my roots, still I can’t describe why I felt so entranced by the vibe of Vietnam and how much I respect the resilience of it’s residents, how Cambodia was the most educational experience on my journey and where my heart broke for the children there, how I’ve never experienced such hospitality as that of the Nepal people, how impressively easy the transportation system was in Hong Kong, how India was disturbingly rich and enchanting and frustrating, how I love the food in Thailand and Taiwan (and the girls equally as much). As trite as this may seem, every country is unique. In the few times where I made the mistake of actually trying to answer this question without the disclaimer above, in the end I found myself listing out the majority of the countries I’ve seen and realizing how futile it is to try to pick one favorite country. However, I may be able to tell you my where I had the tastiest meals, where I’ve seen the most majestic mountains, where the most breathtaking beaches were, where I experienced the most touching moments, who was the cleanest, who was the cheapest, who’s temples were the grandest, and maybe, maybe who’s beer was the best. My point is, most places I’ve been to was memorable in it’s way and comparing one country to another with one sweeping general question is just unfair and impossible.

I’ve been back home for about a week and a half now.

One of the inquiries that naturally come up with friends and family is wanting to know how it’s like to be at home again after having been away for a while. While it’s definitely the same place that I spent 14 of my adolescent years growing up, and while it’s all so familiar, it’s also unexplainably uncomfortable. That’s it…It’s familiar yet uncomfortable. It’s as if something is a bit off and when I scan my surroundings trying to understand why I feel this way, I see everything was just how I left it and just how I remembered it, but something is still different. Then a light bulb of realization comes on and I begin to understand that that something is obviously… me. This feeling is provoked by the most subtle of events in everyday life here: looking at the people walking their dogs in my neighborhood, watching people buy 4 dollar cups of lattes at the mall, listening to the pre-rehearsed orientation of the day’s special through the strained smile of waitress at BJ’s, the feeling of guilt I had when I bought my laptop, the kosherness of an aisle in a supermarket. The most banal aspects of life just turned into the bizarre and I react by laughing or staring in incomprehension. I’ve seen all this before, but never from this perspective.

Some people will probably say it’s reverse culture shock and there’s probably some accuracy in that diagnosis. It should be natural, right? The last half year of my life were in different parts of Asia and in environments that were completely different from home, so coming home should be somewhat of a shock. But I don’t think it’s the complete reason for this feeling. When you travel, you learn. You meet different customs and perspectives while refining your own. Being away, you’re also able to have a healthy perspective on the place you call home, and that includes seeing the faults as well as the virtues for what they are. While I’ve never been more critical of the American way of life, my way of life, I’ve never felt more fortunate and appreciative that I am an American. I can acknowledge the faults while realizing our potential not yet realized and how fortunate I am to be living the lifestyle I live. It’s possible to be critical yet feel fortunate for my country and everything that is right. I believe it’s also the healthiest form of patriotism.

Ok, so that was a tangent, but I’ll write more later.