DISCOVERING WHY I TRAVEL

En route to Vienna, I remembered something that Pierre had said earlier today, over espressos and cigarettes, about their upcoming 8-month trip to Asia. I don’t remember the exact words but he had said something about not merely jumping into a plane and traveling senselessly. That there be a philosophy behind the journey is vital. I pondered on the thought during pockets of silence in the airport and asked myself, “What is my philosophy in traveling?”

I was pleased that, almost instantly, I had answers…

I travel not just to do what the privileged do or acquire what others have. Too shallow a reason for something so costly.

I don’t do this to add feathers to my hat or make scarp books to show off. Such impressions pass too quickly through people’s minds and sometimes even leave a bitter jealousy in their hearts.

I don’t need to be seen in the shi-shiest of places. Who will see me anyway? The one who feeds me? The one who will deem me worthy in the end? If so, Will it matter?

I don’t need to prove to be an expert in the routes of cities that are not my own. I can only be an expert on my hometown.

Rather, I journey to seek my own peace,

To feel the earth around me and realize that we all live under the same sun,

To watch the world go by with its joys and sorrows painted on faces that are stored in my mind, my library of emotions.
I allow my mind to wander and my spirit to soar beyond the confines of my own realm. Somehow, It fulfills my need to understand things, people, phenomena…my need to hear their stories in order that I may learn not to judge.

I see far off lands, listen to foreign tongues, and gaze at writings I cannot comprehend. I observe, I write, I capture, I sense, I try to relate. Not for mere vanity but rather to sharpen the blade of my identity and return home with a deeper understanding of who I am, where I come from, and who I owe this all to.

LEAVING PARIS

Paris' sense of humor talaga! After making me fall in love, he sees me off with something funny to remember.

From where the taxi took me down, I clumsily negotiated the cobblestone sidewalks beside the Opera Garniere not caring who passed me by or what I was walking on. With a "whew", I boarded the roissybus. I noticed that everyone was looking at me strangely as I loaded my heavy luggage. Not caring and thinking it may be some racist shit, I just picked my window seat and put on my head phones. As I settled into my seat, ready to start my moment (this is the part when one looks out the window of a bus and looks back at the old familiar places with one tear falling on the left cheek). Just when I had worked up a tear, a waft of stink disturbs my moment! My tear retreats! Upset, I look around and realize that the crowd in the bus is still looking at me strangely! One English woman gestures to cover her nose looking at me! I slowly sink, I examine my whole situation, I rewind my mind, and almost instinctively lifted my leg to look at the underside of my sneakers. Great...I stepped on dog shit! A really huge one! Indescribably embarrassed, I hid my sneakers and my dignity under my seat hoping they would just cover their noses. At that moment , the bus was about to leave the city into the suburbs that led to the airport. I could hear Paris' hearty laughter. I sat back and smiled as his voice echoed in my mind, " A revoir!...mon ami!"