I take their sketch with me when I leave – as a token of gratitude that something as simple as a sketch could open the door to our encounter. Here in Southeast Asia, as on every journey, it is the people who have made each place.
Posts tagged ‘friendship’
Meeting Ksyucha, a fellow sketch artist, in the Saigon Central Post Office reminds me that it is such sketching serendipities I have come to live for – no matter how long the actual sketch itself may take to complete.
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.
I fell in love with this city last year; back on the streets of Bombay for a second time, I’m just as in awe of the possibilities they hold. Mumbai, as it always seems to, has worked its magic yet again.
It was an unlikely connection on Christmas night in Bangkok, a connection that bridged four countries, and as I showed Boo’s picture to the men in Delhi, telling them about the pin he was wearing, I felt grateful I could say: “All of the world is with her.”
On a recent trip, I realized train travel is about slipping into a world that could only happen here – not on a plane – where strangers buy each other tea and hold their children and by the end of the journey, can call themselves friends.
Every now and then you meet someone whose friendship not only proves the test of time, but of distance, too. Today I want you to meet Micaela, one such friend whose questions before her first solo trip inspired this new blog series.
Just like air blowing into a hot air balloon, maybe inspiration’s the thing that takes a deflated mess of fabric – no matter how colorful or pretty – and fills it with life, into something that’s actually going somewhere.
Lately, I’ve started to laugh at myself more–finding the humility to admit I won’t always have it together or nail a new activity the first time I try it. I couldn’t have done so soon enough.
Suddenly, we’re chasing the sun, re-tracing our steps through the old town, taking photos of the same scenes we’d captured hours earlier—only this time, it’s like someone said, “Let there be light.”