What else can you do at a place where a million people died? What else can you do but leave something, anything, behind that says we were here, and that we remember?
The many little details of Josh’s life bounce around in my head for long after we say goodbye, reminding me that we never know who we’ll meet, and where. As always, inspiration had been worth waiting for.
Behind my decision to bike to Angkor Wat was a desire to feel a sense of exploration; to try and channel the sublime sense of discovery French explorer Henri Mouhot must have felt in 1860.
For days we have been moving the puzzle pieces of our trip back to Bangkok around. It may have taken a while for our plan to come together, but here on a Vientiane sidewalk, I’m glad it left room to meet Nam.
On a balmy Sunday afternoon in Luang Prabang, Laos, while sketching the sleepy town at a sidewalk desk, I realize there’s only one stamp of approval we need to do what we love. Our own.
Here in Vang Vieng, I am reminded of what it means to go beyond your initial encounter with a place. If you’re patient, and persistent, sometimes there is hidden beauty to be found – beauty hidden in the hills.
The passing group of monks never actually stop walking, but when they see what I’m up to, they crane their necks, ooh and aah over my sketch, and wish me ganbatte a hundred times as they pass.
Most of all, what I want to remember from Temple 58 is its classic tiered roof. While it means my first day on the circuit will be longer than it should, I can’t help but drop everything and sketch the temple.
Before arriving on Shodoshima, I’d been wondering if there would be any connections between this pilgrimage and the one I did last year. Here in a souvenir shop on the island, it seems I’ve found my answer.
As I sketch, I keep looking out over the city spinning and swirling below me, feeling like I’m not only in the center of Tokyo, but in the center of the world itself. I found the Wakō after all – and so much more.