I arrived to my final destination, Porto Alegre, Brasil, several hours ago, after nearly 24 hours of travel. There’s nothing like spending an entire day to make a journey. How many days have I spent not even getting out of bed until half of it is over, just to let the other half pass by seemingly unnoticed? The answer is: at least as many as I’ve spent making my way somewhere across the globe in that same amount of time.
Every emotion is pulled out of you through stimulation and exhaustion when you travel. Not to say that we don’t experience every synapse firing during an otherwise “mundane” set of 24 hours, but securing yourself in a tube and hurling across a hemisphere or allowing time to pass while sitting at a busy airport gate or staring out of the window of a van at a South American ghetto are all definite recipes for self-reflection on the “What does it all mean” notion. At least to me…I’m sure when Asian nomads spent a day on the Pacific heading east or when early American settlers spent the same amount of time going the opposite direction that they let the same question ‘brown and serve’ in their mind ovens as well.
So it’s fitting that when I arrived, after reaching out to those I love, like my girlfriend and family back home, that I would be in a mode of reflective discovery. And alone in a Hotel room. Armed with substantial-at-best Wi-Fi. It happens every tour. That’s how, ahem, Rock and Roll Go, to us sensitive types.
And just then, like a mystical gift in my inbox, my enlightened friend David Stokes sends me this…