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I
know
this
because
I
’
ve
traveled
a
lot
and
I
’
ve
met
people
who
are
great
at
it
.
Real
naturals
.
I
’
ve
met
travelers
who
are
so
physically
sturdy
they
could
drink
a
shoebox
of
water
from
a
Calcutta
gutter
and
never
get
sick
.
People
who
can
pick
up
new
languages
where
others
of
us
might
only
pick
up
infectious
diseases
.
People
who
know
how
to
stand
down
a
threatening
border
guard
or
cajole
an
uncooperative
bureaucrat
at
the
visa
office
.
People
who
are
the
right
height
and
complexion
that
they
kind
of
look
halfway
normal
wherever
they
go
-
in
Turkey
they
just
might
be
Turks
,
in
Mexico
they
are
suddenly
Mexican
,
in
Spain
they
could
be
mistaken
for
a
Basque
,
in
Northern
Africa
they
can
sometimes
pass
for
Arab
…
I
don
’
t
have
these
qualities
.
First
off
,
I
don
’
t
blend
.
Tall
and
blond
and
pink
-
complexioned
,
I
am
less
a
chameleon
than
a
flamingo
.
Everywhere
I
go
but
Dusseldorf
,
I
stand
out
garishly
.
When
I
was
in
China
,
women
used
to
come
up
to
me
on
the
street
and
point
me
out
to
their
children
as
though
I
were
some
escaped
zoo
animal
.
And
their
children
-
who
had
never
seen
anything
quite
like
this
pink
-
faced
yellow
-
headed
phantom
person
-
would
often
burst
into
tears
at
the
sight
of
me
.
I
really
hated
that
about
China
.
I
’
m
bad
(
or
,
rather
,
lazy
)
at
researching
a
place
before
I
travel
,
tending
just
to
show
up
and
see
what
happens
.
When
you
travel
this
way
,
what
typically
"
happens
"
is
that
you
end
up
spending
a
lot
of
time
standing
in
the
middle
of
the
train
station
feeling
confused
,
or
dropping
way
too
much
money
on
hotels
because
you
don
’
t
know
better
.
My
shaky
sense
of
direction
and
geography
means
I
have
explored
six
continents
in
my
life
with
only
the
vaguest
idea
of
where
I
am
at
any
given
time
.
Aside
from
my
cockeyed
internal
compass
,
I
also
have
a
shortage
of
personal
coolness
,
which
can
be
a
liability
in
travel
.
I
have
never
learned
how
to
arrange
my
face
into
that
blank
expression
of
competent
invisibility
that
is
so
useful
when
traveling
in
dangerous
,
foreign
places
.
You
know
-
that
super
-
relaxed
,
totally
-
in
-
charge
expression
which
makes
you
look
like
you
belong
there
,
anywhere
,
everywhere
,
even
in
the
middle
of
a
riot
in
Jakarta
.
Oh
,
no
.
When
I
don
’
t
know
what
I
’
m
doing
,
I
look
like
I
don
’
t
know
what
I
’
m
doing
.
When
I
’
m
excited
or
nervous
,
I
look
excited
or
nervous
.
And
when
I
am
lost
,
which
is
frequently
,
I
look
lost
.
My
face
is
a
transparent
transmitter
of
my
every
thought
.
As
David
once
put
it
,
"
You
have
the
opposite
of
poker
face
.
You
have
,
like
…
miniature
golf
face
.
"
And
,
oh
,
the
woes
that
traveling
has
inflicted
on
my
digestive
tract
!
I
don
’
t
really
want
to
open
that
(
forgive
the
expression
)
can
of
worms
,
but
suffice
it
to
say
I
’
ve
experienced
every
extreme
of
digestive
emergency
.
In
Lebanon
I
became
so
explosively
ill
one
night
that
I
could
only
imagine
I
’
d
somehow
contracted
a
Middle
Eastern
version
of
the
Ebola
virus
.
In
Hungary
,
I
suffered
from
an
entirely
different
kind
of
bowel
affliction
,
which
changed
forever
the
way
I
feel
about
the
term
"
Soviet
Bloc
.
"
But
I
have
other
bodily
weaknesses
,
too
.
My
back
gave
out
on
my
first
day
traveling
in
Africa
,
I
was
the
only
member
of
my
party
to
emerge
from
the
jungles
of
Venezuela
with
infected
spider
bites
,
and
I
ask
you
-
I
beg
of
you
!
-
who
gets
sunburned
in
Stockholm
?
Still
,
despite
all
this
,
traveling
is
the
great
true
love
of
my
life
.
I
have
always
felt
,
ever
since
I
was
sixteen
years
old
and
first
went
to
Russia
with
my
saved
-
up
babysitting
money
,
that
to
travel
is
worth
any
cost
or
sacrifice
.
I
am
loyal
and
constant
in
my
love
for
travel
,
as
I
have
not
always
been
loyal
and
constant
in
my
other
loves
.
I
feel
about
travel
the
way
a
happy
new
mother
feels
about
her
impossible
,
colicky
,
restless
newborn
baby
-
I
just
don
’
t
care
what
it
puts
me
through
.
Because
I
adore
it
.
Because
it
’
s
mine
.
Because
it
looks
exactly
like
me
.
It
can
barf
all
over
me
if
it
wants
to
-
I
just
don
’
t
care
.
Anyway
,
for
a
flamingo
,
I
’
m
not
completely
helpless
out
there
in
the
world
.
I
have
my
own
set
of
survival
techniques
.
I
am
patient
.
I
know
how
to
pack
light
.
I
’
m
a
fearless
eater
.
But
my
one
mighty
travel
talent
is
that
I
can
make
friends
with
anybody
.
I
can
make
friends
with
the
dead
.
I
once
made
friends
with
a
war
criminal
in
Serbia
,
and
he
invited
me
to
go
on
a
mountain
holiday
with
his
family
.
Not
that
I
’
m
proud
to
list
Serbian
mass
murderers
amongst
my
nearest
and
dearest
(
I
had
to
befriend
him
for
a
story
,
and
also
so
he
wouldn
’
t
punch
me
)
,
but
I
’
m
just
saying
-
I
can
do
it
.
If
there
isn
’
t
anyone
else
around
to
talk
to
,
I
could
probably
make
friends
with
a
four
-
foot
-
tall
pile
of
Sheetrock
This
is
why
I
’
m
not
afraid
to
travel
to
the
most
remote
places
in
the
world
,
not
if
there
are
human
beings
there
to
meet
.
People
asked
me
before
I
left
for
Italy
,
"
Do
you
have
friends
in
Rome
?
"
and
I
would
just
shake
my
head
no
,
thinking
to
myself
,
But
I
will
.
Mostly
,
you
meet
your
friends
when
traveling
by
accident
,
like
by
sitting
next
to
them
on
a
train
,
or
in
a
restaurant
,
or
in
a
holding
cell
.
But
these
are
chance
encounters
,
and
you
should
never
rely
entirely
on
chance
.
For
a
more
systematic
approach
,
there
is
still
the
grand
old
system
of
the
"
letter
of
introduction
"
(
today
more
likely
to
be
an
e
-
mail
)
,
presenting
you
formally
to
the
acquaintance
of
an
acquaintance
.
This
is
a
terrific
way
to
meet
people
,
if
you
’
re
shameless
enough
to
make
the
cold
call
and
invite
yourself
over
for
dinner
.
So
before
I
left
for
Italy
,
I
asked
everyone
I
knew
in
America
if
they
had
any
friends
in
Rome
,
and
I
’
m
happy
to
report
that
I
have
been
sent
abroad
with
a
substantial
list
of
Italian
contacts
.
