Travel moves people. No pun intended.
But the lasting impressions of our serendipitous wanderings affect us all in different ways.
I have friends who only go overseas so they can sit on a beach and sip cocktails. And while there’s absolutely nothing wrong with that, it’s not for me.
I’m not interested in theme parks or overly-sanitized attractions designed for generic, fridge-magnet-collecting tourists.
The last time I was in Asia I travelled down the Mekong River to Tonlé Sap lake to see the floating villages.
And if I had to sum up the experience, to quantify the abject poverty I witnessed that day, I would say nothing; write nothing, because they are feelings best captured by a photo of a little boy rowing who-knows-where in his little tub.