Contemplating the return

Travel is death and rebirth. I opened the door and walked outside - the sky is blue and the trees are green, just as they always have been. Myriad suns have come up and gone down, but for me there is only one, rising and falling, just as breath causes my chest to rise and fall.

What began in Hungary all those months ago is drawing to a close. For the past 9 months, I’ve been trekking across the world, living the life I’ve always dreamed and tasting cultures rich and strange. In the first few weeks of our trip, it began to sink in... this was not a short term holiday, a sneaky 2 weeks of respite received for slavery to the corporate ideal. This was the genuine article.

We left London full of excitement, the promise of an amazing journey mapping out before us. Since landing in Hungary, we’ve travelled through 15 countries, learnt strange languages, and ridden camels, motorbikes, cars, buses, trains, planes and boats. We’ve tasted freezing snows and monsoon rains, and roasted in boiling desert sands.

But the physical locations are merely a part of my journey – I’ve been searching for something deeper, a deeper sense of meaning in my life. In fairy tales, they call this ‘seeking your fortune’. So while travelling around rich and strange countries, I’ve been deliberating: What is in stall for me? What do I want to do with my life? I guess you’d call it a near life experience, and I realised I don’t want to waste time doing things I don’t like - one of my “new” personal goals is to squeeze every last drop out of this life. When I'm behind a computer in an office, I don't feel alive or free, and I'm constantly looking for that precious "thing" - that thing that pushes me to the edge and makes me feel alive and free. There's no one thing that takes me there - I've found 'pieces of gold' in different physical, emotional and mental landscapes around the world. But the thing which most consistently wakes me up is travel.

Altering surroundings, languages and cultures demands my presence, immediately and absolutely. Even the mundane becomes interesting, and the most intense feeling of aliveness results. I catch myself, in an altered moment, awakened, stimulated - just ALIVE. A wise man once said: 'When you feel most alive, find out why, This is one guest you won't greet twice'.

Travel pushes me to consider what's important, what I REALLY want abstracted from the mirage of daily necessity. With a change of culture, society, social norms and the usual parameters of work-eat-sleep, I'm challenged to find meaning without my usual routines, surroundings and demands. In the absence of daily routine, I see what's important to me. Travel inspires me to live.

So what have I learnt? Although the big bright yellow sun beating down appears to be the same as yesterday, it has changed irrevocably as have I. I am older today than I was yesterday, and like all life, I am aware that I will die one day. During my travels, I have attempted to deliberate on this fact - not a morbid contemplation but a practical comparative contemplation. When I view values, thoughts or a particular course of action through the lens of my death, the ultimate umpire, I get a precise sense of value, and understand with clarity what is important and what is not. I ask a question that will define my life, for better or worse: When I inevitably get to the end, what will allow me to look back with satisfaction rather than regret, happiness and fulfilment rather than disappointment?

Tonight, the game shifts for once more time, and we board the big bird bound once more for the land of my birth. It’s been almost three years since the departure, and ‘home’ may have changed though not nearly as much as I have. Old friends and new challenges await, and I’m looking forward to plugging in the new me and answering the questions I posed above with actions. Some big changes are on the horizon...

Jakarta

Considering the melee of other cities in Asia, Jakarta is tame. Sure, there a motorbikes a plenty and pollution, but not on the scale Kuala Lumpur or Bangkok. The travellers ghetto is a quaint little area set around Jalan Jaksa. There’s a smattering of Western food, internet cafe joints and travel agents, but there’s an overwhelming feeling of chill... and the place is so clean. No sweaty puddles of filth or piles of garbage – I’m very impressed. We’ve come to Jakarta on the way to other places – it kind of makes sense to hang out here for a couple of days and see the sights before pushing east.

Since being in Indonesia, I’ve been inundated by curious schoolchildren looking for autographs and photos – anything to prove to their mates that they saw a westerner. Jakarta is no exception. On a visit to the Sukarno Tower, I’m bombed by hundreds of the little buggers and with no escape, I kick up my heels, pull out a few Indonesian words and get photographed, much to our mutual delight. Thankfully one of the teachers ‘saves’ me, and I scamper into the lift to make my escape.

Lake Toba

I’m amazed how BIG this lake is – it takes the boat almost 45 minutes to traverse the lake to Pulau Samosir, the island in the middle. And after the noise of Banda Aceh and Medan, my ears are ringing because this place is so quiet.

Once a popular party island, it now hosts families, groups of schoolchildren and the odd backpacker. Whilst on a Sunday run, I was swamped by a bevy of schoolgirls all intent on practicing their English. I literally had to run away – after 15 minutes, there was an orderly queue with at least 40 youngsters waiting for their turn to ask me my name and where I was from. And this was only the beginning of the fun – after breakfast, marauding tribes of schoolchildren outnumber travellers by at least 100 to 1, and both Steph and I are surrounded by a swarm of children attempting to complete a school project. In hindsight, it’s inspirational to see people so young with such a passion for life, and a cheeky exuberance to go along with it. At the time though, I'd had enough of their crushing enthusiasm.

Northern Sumatra

This is the first place I have travelled to where I have considered not telling people about it. Thus I will not post photos. My guidebook says that this is what everyone is scrambling around Thailand looking for, and I can’t agree more. Mountains rise from the sea, covered in a thick mat of jungle and coconut trees - I’m awed by sweeping bays of deep blue and black basalt outcrops set against deep jungle green. Creaky old bungalows scattered along the thickly wooded slopes overlook a rocky channel of magical aqua-marine water. God was surely in a good mood when she made this place.

It really feels like we are away from civilisation here – there’s a delicious feeling of timelessness and isolation. Coconut trees sway lazily in warm sea breezes, suggesting that the hammock is good place to spend the afternoon, but for me, diving is the preferred pastime. Dangerous currents rip past as the tides change, and the local divers and marine life have adapted to the vicious currents. After a couple of excursions below the water, I’m beginning to get a handle on it. It’s clear that Indonesia’s reputation for world class diving is deserved – I for one will certainly be back.

Banda Aceh

The day dawns bright, the first rays of sunlight tainting the mountains a deep orange. A night bus trip is in its final stages, and I for one am glad – each trip like this weakens my resolve to take another. We’re heading north towards Banda Aceh and Pulau Weh, a small island off the northern tip of Sumatra. As we arrive at the bus station and take a taxi into town, I can’t see any remnants of the tsunami which hit Banda Aceh particularly hard in December of 2004. In the hotel we stay in, photos cover the walls which defy belief – mounds of rubble and bodies by the dozen. In the South East Asia this week, a tsunami decimated parts of Samoa and Tonga, a hurricane brought floodwaters to many areas in the Philippines, and an earthquake destroyed the city of Padang and many villages in North Sumatra, just a few hundred kilometres south from where we are right now.

I’m feeling really down about the whole situation. The news keeps playing the same stories and I’m conscious of the discrepancy of tourism in the midst of turmoil. In Banda Aceh, a lone mosque stood among the handful of buildings which survived the 2004 tsunami, standing in silent testament to the horrors which befell the area almost 5 years ago. The mosque gave inhabitants comfort in their time of tribulation, and now, seeing the mosque and the city of Banda Aceh 5 years on gives me comfort, knowing that human spirit in a million different manifestations rises to the challenges that life presents.

Bukit Lawang

Perched on the edge of a mountain range draped with thick jungle, Bukit Lawang is a sleepy little village three hours from Medan. Another indication that we have changed country – the roads are narrow with crater sized holes and way too much traffic. Although it looks manic, it brings a smile to my face as everything works almost too well - weaving through the cars, bikes, trucks and buses with horn constantly depressed is business as usual. In the jungle near Bukit Laweng there’s an orang-utan sanctuary, and I’m keen to catch a glimpse of these amazing creatures in the wild.

The sanctuary is a sort of half way house for orang-utans – there’s feeding times twice a day for rehabilitated animals. We scramble up the path and sit in silence, anticipation building, waiting for the orang-utans to swing in. The ranger bangs his bucket, and waits. I close my eyes and listen to the silence... just the sounds of nature - wind in the trees, small birds singing and crickets calling. Then there’s a crash, and a female orang-utan appears high in the canopy, along with her offspring. There’s a low murmur, and I watch with expectancy as she assesses the situation and gently swings in. It’s an absolutely amazing spectacle to see this magnificent wild animal approach. The swings are relaxed and precise, as she shifts her weight gently but decisively through the branches.

The ranger carries his bucket over to the crowd, and sits really close to me – before long the beautiful creature swings in to avail itself of a free feed. As I watch her at close range, I can see her eyes brim with knowledge and wisdom – so much like a human’s eyes – and its a powerful experience just to be sitting there in her presence. I think this is one of the moments I will remember for a lifetime, and one thing’s for sure - I have a smile on my face as wide than the Pacific Ocean that nothing can take off.

Medan

It’s a relatively quick trip across the Strait of Mellaca, but it feels like we have stepped back 30 years. We’re shunted through an archaic terminal to immigration, and then marched back to the boat to pick up our luggage.

Old clapped out buses ply the route between the port and the city of Medan, the capital of Sumatra, and we board the waiting machine and sit back as the weak air conditioner tries vainly to cool the damp, hot atmosphere. The bus keeps filling until it is standing room only, and more people pour into the aisle. Medan is hot and dusty, and all forms of car, truck, bus and bike battle for supremacy on the roads.

At dinner, I’m sitting at a travellers cafe and CNN is on the tube... and we see for the first time that a huge earthquake has decimated Pedang, a city a couple of hundred kilometres to the south. There’s an awful sinking feeling in my stomach as I think about the people being dragged from the rubble alive, and those not so fortunate. Our plan was to visit Pedang, but there’s no way I’m going anywhere near it – I feel almost guilty having leisure time in the country where a disaster has occurred.

I cast my mind back to the 2005 tsunami, where images circulated on the internet depicting sunbaking tourists living it up in Phuket while the island was in ruins. That sort of shit is heartless to say the least - my thoughts are with the people of Pedang and surrounding areas, but for this trip we’re adjusting our plans and avoiding the Pedang area altogether.