What is the value of travel?

There’s something about travel that is mysterious yet low-key terrifying. I’m sitting on a flight from Dallas, Texas, to Hong Kong, sixteen hours in length. It’s two in the morning, and the lights have dimmed. I’m not sure If we are over the ocean yet. My daughter, Lucy, is sitting next to me with a blanket over her head. There is a cocooned whum of the jet, and a few small children calling out as if protesting the absurdity of floating above the Earth. 

My father was career military, and we moved at least once a year until I was in high school. When I was two, we moved to Augsburg, Germany. I’m not sure that I remember much, but I’m sure that I knew something was new, the air, the sounds. There’s an old 8 mm movie of me playing in a sandbox with another kid. I stalk him and throw sand into his eyes with quite a curious grin. 

When I was six, we moved back to Germany to an Army base near Stuttgart. This time, the difference between what was and what is made a greater impression on me. An avid reader, I could not read the signs. I could not understand German. What the hell was going on? It would have helped if my parents had explained to me that we were moving from one country to another and that milk was milch and meat fleisch. I was so confused, but took the changes in stride after the shock had worn off. Ultimately, I learned that there were similarities between there and home and some pretty big differences, which I processed as a child will, earning early travel stripes.

We are headed to Cambodia, a place I have never visited. Lucy has decided to spend two months in Southeast Asia, and I’m along for the first week of the adventure, providing imaginary moral support. Basically, I’m worried about her traveling alone, some scammer, some heartless trash. They exist at home, I know, but can be far more formidable when you can’t understand the language and have only a slight grasp on cultural differences. I’m thrilled that she has welcomed me on the trip, but will wince long and hard when I leave in a week or so.

The further you travel from home, the more focused and clear home becomes. The bullshit becomes obvious and those things that make us happy, perhaps the hot summers or the joy of smoking a pipe on a back porch, stand out like glow worms.

I think travel rewires your brain to be more accepting and patient with others. To successfully travel across borders, you have to take risks. It’s good to do some research ahead of time, but often well-laid plans go out the door when reality rears its head. When I traveled to Ethiopia in 1986 to work as a nurse during the Great Famine, I was twenty-two and about as mature as a day-old squirrel. Ethiopia chewed me up and spit me out. It was, I think, my suffering there (oh yes, I suffered) that compelled me to become a writer. I write to understand my life, and even after eight novels that hinge on my time in Ethiopia, I still have questions as to what happened, why I gave up God, leaving a huge hole in my existence.

Lucy is snoring softly, and the plane’s lights have dimmed. A man is coughing. The plane hums softly like an expensive sewing machine. As usual, I’m worried about the language barrier, the possibility of diarrhea, and managing my mental health. I’m worried that Lucy will learn hard lessons, but hope that she will better for it. 

*

Have arrived to Hong Kong after a 16-hour flight from Dallas. I felt like I was in a whispering tunnel during the long flight, except for the token screaming child right behind me. She was about eight and screamed at the top of her lungs as if she were being murdered. The parents did nothing to calm her down. I think something was wrong with her. The terminal is very long and narrow, like a warehouse with very large hills visible through the large windows. I am very glad to be on the ground. Will depart for Phnom Penh in two hours. Feeling like I am in a dream.

Vaping is illegal in the countries Lucy will visit, including Cambodia. She is already in withdrawal and wants to buy cigarettes but there are none for sale currently (duty-free shop is closed). I also could use a session with my tobacco pipe but will forgo that to suffer in alliance with Lucy. I am getting some minor writing in, but have yet to really produce. I had thought I would have a story idea by now, but am blank and gasping for words. It will come, I hope.

I’ve taken my crazy pills and feel somewhat better. It’s easy to become unhinged when I travel due to the stress and strangeness. I know that for the entire trip I will be on the edge of unraveling so have to stay vigilant and remain calm. We can smoke at the hotel in a few hours, so am looking forward to that. Tomorrow we have a full day with a tour group. We will visit a killing field, temples, and other sights. The temperature outside is about 90 degrees, and it is the rainy season with rain predicted every day in Cambodia. That’s what my umbrella is for, but I hope that the rain is not perpetual.