This blog started four years before that trip did. That trip wasn't the first time I had written about travel, or even done some form of trip diary. The first time was in 2010 when I went to Spain - my first international trip fully alone. I did again to some degree chronicling my cousin's wedding and my trip to India in December 2010 - January 2011. But things all changed in 2013. Traveling got thrust so quick back to the forefront of my life, my interests, and writing about it became a trip occurrence.
It's funny looking back at that trip and thinking that while I still love traveling every bit as much if not more, the way I travel and what I do has changed so much. On that trip in 2013, I stayed primarily at youth hostels (though I would "splurge" to get my own room each time). I ate at good restaurants but nothing fancy at all. I saw a lot of sites, but took tuk-tuks and rikshaws and a few taxis (Uber basically wasn't a thing yet). I took maybe ~30 pictures a day, which while was a lot at the time, seems woefully short now. In every way, I travel way better, understandably so, as a 32-year old now than I did as a 22-year old, but that more "slummin' it" (heavy quotes here...), but the memories adn the connection with traveling around and writing about it is a memory that attached, rooted itself and consumed me in all the best ways.
**quick note - the one thing I hadn't really mentioned in a lot of these of how lucky I was to do all of this. I earned a part of it, working hard to graduate early from college (granted a lot of that was due to AP courses I took in high school). But other than that, I had parents who provided for me financially. Who gave their miles for my use on the trip. Who paid for my hostels and internal flights. I made sure to pay for meals, and wanted to pay for the main tours, but even there they stepped in a bit. I'm so lucky to have them; not only because of that support but even the love of travel is something I share so innately with them**
I look back at this trips and there is a lot I'm nostalgic about in teh trip itself. Obviously I'm nostalgic of a time ten years ago, with so much of life aehad of me and all that. But really, I'm nostalgic about being able to enjoy aspects of that trip I probably wouldn't today. Fearing I'm leaning a bit too much into a "back in my day it was a simpler time...", I do long for the days of that shit Samsung Netbook, which somehow I rigged to play torrented tv shows. I long for being able to go to a very normal, but well rated, restaurant that just serves an a-la-carte menu. I even long, slightly, for the hostels and finding the little hidden gems, be it the pool and restaurant of The Lotus Lodge in Siem Reap, or meeting a bunch of cool people in Phnom Penh, or even Skype-ing (back when that was all the thing) my sister at like 3am in a college-dorm-room sized hostel room in Sydney.
I do like the fact that I was able to enjoy that style of travel when that is the price range I had, and enjoy it equally - and very specifically not "more" - now that I can travel in a more higher end way. But so much of this 2013 trip was just small little moments, slices of beauty. There's so much on it I probably won't do again. Maybe some of that has to do with me doing say one of the places over and over and over and over and over again... But so glad I did the one time.
There's a litany of experiences I had on that trip that I never will again. Be it like coaster shopping in the stalls of Jaipur (an obsession that has stayed with me) or visiting the Chowki Dhani. Whether it was the motorcycle ride in Dalat. Maybe it is going to the night markets in Batu Ferringhi and having an Asahi and a roti canai. Maybe it was wading into my first Japanese BBQ, a weird spot named Gyu-Kaku, in Osaka, combing through images and broken English to order neck and achilles and a bunch of weird shit that I would love.
So many small moments of beauty across 110 days, ones burned in my memory. Yes, I'm happy that I've carried forward not only the love of traveling, but the lvoe of painstakingly chronicling it. Granted, I still don't think I'm any better writing about traveling in 2023 than I was in 2013 (potentially worse, definitely more long winded). But I still love doing it as much. I still love planning trips, something that was never really a concern until that 2013 trip made me create a way of structuring a trip itinerary in Excel that was so fit for purpose my whole friend group over the years started using it. I still love the joy of taking off and landing. I still love all of it.
But I also love that I left part of it behind, but can find beauty in those moments. To close this retrospective, I'll list six weird ones and then wrap up.
First let's start with the first real memory of the trip, walking from my hostel of The Altona Lodge, to the V&A Waterfront, going through the Green Point Park and Soccer Stadium, with Nicki Minaj's "Starships" blaring, having heard it on Pitch Perfect on the flight over. It might be the single most seared memory of the entire trip. I still maintain my love affair with Cape Town started that very second - a cloudless, beautiful evening in the most beautiful city on earth. I didn't know where the next 106 days would take me, but I know they started somehwere special.
Next let's go to my tuk-tuk ride to and from Dalat airport. Why you ask? Because that was the first moment I ever thought to myself "How cool is it that I'm in this middle of nowhere place. Like where the hell is this!?" This is a thought I've since had say throughout my trip in Patagonia, or more recently in Luang Prabang, but the random hills of Dalat was the first time. Cape Town was at least a city - as was my aborted first trip to Ho Chi Minh. Dalat was something new.
Next was the first time meeting my Aunt and Uncle in Melbourne (weirdly worded, I had met them before, just not in Australia). This was the start of Phase 2 of the trip - leaving family in India for a newer, more foreign family. The back half (Australia, Japan) was the more mysterious, the later planned, and what if I didn't get along with them. What if it was weird. What if I didn't like Australia. None of that turned out to be true - we had a great 10 days together in Melbourne. I got closer than ever with that family, including their son Gavan who is more or less my age. My related memory was my last day with them, instead of going somewhere I'm sure we had planned to, I sat in their family room playing FIFA with him.
Next, let's circle back to India and talk about the Mangalore smell in the air and the grounds of our resort in Goa. If anything, the only real disappointment of the trip was Goa. I was picturing a haven of beach shacks and music and stuff, and our resort had none of that. I complained early, and we did venture a bit towards more of what I was expecting. But that said, for much of the time there we were confied to a resort, but there was this one time of day when the air blew in to the open verandah just right, or this one particular spot on the walk from the head house to our bungalow, that reminded me of Goa. So distinct, but impossible to describe. That itself, given I've never been to Mangalore since, and our family will hopefully close a deal to sell my ancestral home property (a good thing, all things considered), this was a lasting sensory experience.
Next is a combination memory of two nights with cousins, that in isolation may have been two of the most fun, wildest nights of the trip. First was in India at the very tail end of the trip, taking the night bus from Bangalore to my cousin's friend's coffee estate in Hareibel. We snuck some godforsaken alcohol onto the bus and drank our night away just shooting the shit. I will almost certainly never take a nigth bus again, but to have that be my last time was great. Tied with that is my cousin Vikram and my time in Sydney. It was a pure coincidence he was in Australia at the time. We were able to organize one night out which was wild, fun, incredible. I hope one day to return to The Oxford Art Factory in Sydney, but I;m sure it won't be the same without him.
Finally, let's go to Japan, and meeting Moto in Tokyo. Moto was a friend of mine, someone who moved to the US for just high school (this apparently is like "a thing"). We became super close through a shared love of soccer - he a big Arsenal fan. He was one of three of us that got together to watch Champions League knockout games. He returned to Japan for college and while the first two summers I think he came back (his parents + younger brother were still ehre till he graduated), I had gone two years or so without meeting him. Back then there was no real way to contact except for Facebook. He was super sporadic in getting back to me. I arrived in Japan not really knowing if I would meet him. Somehow we did. Somehow we enjpoyed a couple great days and nights chilling around Tokyo, partying at night. I've not seen him since (will probably attempt a reachout when I go to Japan later this year). I may never will. It was so special to get to meet him in Japan.
That 2013 trip will never leave me. That is almost entirely a very good thing. So many memories, so many experiences, so many priceless moments. It taught me a lot, in terms of budgeting, in terms of planning (things I do far more closely in travel than in general life...). It taught me a lot about family - not included in my moments was nearly tearing up, honestly, when I saw my Mom in Bangkok a month in. It taught me a lot about different parts of the world, and while I travel in more "luxury" ten years later, I still turn down no opportunity to visit the 3rd world. It taught me about life in many ways. Maybe one day I'll get a chance to travel for four months again. People taking sabbaticals has become like all the thing in my company. But even if I do again, it won';t be the same. It won't be this perfect little combination of right time, right places, right person ready to experience. When I returned, I did that A to Z piece and chose "Zero Regrets" as my Z, something that seemed corny at the time, but was so fitting. Truly zero regrets, in the moment, and if anything somehow less regrets ten years on.
