I was a reluctant international traveler, never venturing beyond the U.S. in my youth and through young adulthood. Then several years into my work career, in my late 20’s and on assignment, I flew through Jakarta Indonesia to the island of Sumatra. It was in all respects a foreign experience. I felt so high up and far away from home, anxious and observant. I traveled through some areas that could be described as “third world,” and remember remarking it was so much more real life than anything one could see in a documentary or a film. The experience opened my eyes to a wider world, though my most steadfast memory was relief upon returning safely. Fast forward through many years of domestic work assignments until work demands from a corporate level position in 2006 required remote site visits, eventually across the world. All my subsequent overseas international travel was work related.
Some of my early trips were with my then manager, and although he chaperoned me, in a sense I was looking after him, as he was prone to excessive drinking and occasional misadventures. My on my first flight into Kazakhstan I lost track of him on the final leg from Amsterdam to Atyrau, entering a Soviet era airport through muddy pathways, in a cold pouring rain. It was all indecipherable to me, foreign language signs and instructions. Through experience, I adapted and learned to appreciate new customs, accommodations, and foods, though I stuck to the basics. Rice, bread, chicken, and peanut butter were safe bets.
On subsequent trips we returned to Sumatra, on to Bangkok, and eventually to Nigeria. The airport scene in Lagos Nigeria cannot be properly described; handlers, incoming expats, departing travelers, money changers, drivers, heavily armed police, and hangers on. Rich smells of food cooking on kettles in the warm night air. Travel by car across town, a scene out of a post-apocalyptic movie, late night crowds, beat up vehicles moving sideways (and occasionally in reverse) through heavy traffic, accompanied by the unending honking of horns. Eventually we would arrive at the relative quiet of the company camp, VIPs in a real sense and well taken care of. We live a sheltered and privileged life. After a while I got the hang of passports and customs and transfers and much waiting in lines. In most places I felt like an outside observer or prospective book writer. Travel is like being contained in a bubble, moving with the flow, until eventually you are deposited back at your home airport and return to normalcy, though always altered in spirit from the experience.
satanoid from Austin, TX, USA, via Wikimedia
I traveled with other team members in the following years, back to some of the same places, and in the process, I became somewhat more knowledgeable. We spent a week in Cabinda, Angola, waking up early to tree bats and howling monkeys to run the camp roads. Sitting on the edge of the Atlantic Ocean I found time to “attempt” sea kayaking, only to be dumped in the surf and losing my eyeglasses in the process. I also witnessed the emergence of sea turtle hatchlings, following them along on their trip down to the sea. Have a safe and long life, little guys.
With new assignments and project deployments additional rounds of travel commenced, and eventually I partnered up with my colleague and great friend Tracey within the HSE organization. Compatible and close in temperament, thick as thieves. Though surely different in style and approach, in a good way, the dreamer and the planner.
Some of the international travel highlights, accentuated by city runs far and wide, great food and friendly hosts. These stay with me forever:
Spending the fourth of July week in Edmonton Alberta, the daylight lasted for 17 hours. Remembering long solitary morning runs along the North Saskatchewan River, summer grasses long and flowers everywhere along the roads. Back time and again to Calgary Alberta, in the twilight of shortened fall afternoons and the dead cold of winter, everything covered it white. We walked along the Bow River under a cold dark sky and a full moon, snowshoe rabbits stared at us as we ambled along.
Riding in a jeep caravan up a mountainside road west of Caracas Venezuela, a joyful dinner safe and away from the chaos of the city below, a brief respite. Running the streets of Bogota Colombia and Buenos Aries in the dark early mornings. Espresso cafés on every corner. These are late night cities. One evening we attended a tango dinner that began at 10:00 PM and lasted forever.
Returning to Kazakhstan, we crossed the bridge separating the continents of Europe and Asia, then down along the Ural River and past the President’s residence, guard dogs chased us away, frightened and laughing we scampered off. Frozen nights, warm and friendly residents. Shanyrak Village at the Tengiz oil complex.
London was endlessly amazing. Paddington Station greeted us; narrow cobblestone streets and imposing building speak to the history of the city. The shopping and dining and financial districts, yes even the subway which put you close in contact, human energy all around. Trekking across the Hyde Park to Harrods on a cold May evening, sharing a jacket along the way. Running through Hyde and Kensington parks as the seasons changed, the Italian Gardens, parrots perched in the trees above. Regent street lit up for Christmas.
Flying to Australia, twenty-six hours of travel, landing on a Saturday morning and registered for a Sunday marathon starting in the heart of the city, up over the top of Kings Park and down to the sea (City to Surf). And then waking up the next morning with jet lag and dead legs and heading into the office. On a later trip we flew into Sydney for a stopover and ran around the Sydney Opera House on a glorious morning, and then up into the Royal Botanic Gardens. A short and memorable layover. After some office time in Perth, we flew over to the Barrow Island LNG plant; on our off time we toured the island and over to the deep blue western Indian Ocean. Back in Perth we ran along the Swan River in the bright sun and the pouring rain. A free day taking the train down the coast to Fremantle, a lost and found wallet, fate was with us once again.
China, it has always been a dream to travel to this country. We took a long flight into Narita airport in Japan, with a quick stopover for a two-mile airport run streak saver. Then on to Chengdu. With a free day we took a car to panda watch; who gets to do these things? Then a long train ride through the rolling countryside, a mix of rice fields and orchards and high-rise construction to the bustling city of Nanba. Amazed at the contrast between the high-tech urban avenues of Chengdu and the traditional rural economies surrounding Nanba. We ran the streets at 4:00 AM, deserted though watched closely except for a bank of government cameras at every intersection. Each night the townsfolk came out to sing and dance along the promenade aside the Min River, we joined in, it was an unforgettable experience, smiles all around.
Bangkok, such a big sprawling bustling place, wide roads and high buildings spread from the airport into the city, crawling with traffic by day, at dusk bright streets filled with nightlife. Twenty story shopping malls filled with vibrant sights and happy youth. The people of the city were unfailingly friendly and helpful. We ran through dense green urban parks, chasing tai chi groups and found many carrots along the way. One evening down into the subway, a mad trip to Jim Thompsons, lost for a long while and then finding the most amazing Italian restaurant, best meal ever. At night the city sparkles with a million lights.
Within the city of Aberdeen Scotland, Hazel Head Park sits at the top of a rising road and the park trail carries you up past playing fields, horse corrals, a golf course, up through the trees and eventually over to reveal a broad countryside of small villages. On a warm spring morning or a crisp fall day you can imagine that you are running through Sherwood Forest. We ran and walked the length of this historic city, through wind and rain and dark mornings and soft dusky evenings. Losing luggage, long city walks in search of a proper dinner and a change of clothes – finding the best fish and chips ever made, immersed in the age-old maritime architecture, like a book or a dream.
Exploring the city of Lisbon on foot, I stumbled into Bertrand, the oldest bookstore in the world, how can that be? We enjoyed drinks and music in a public square, eating another grand meal at a famous Fado restaurant, while listening to a family singing to us. One morning I awoke early to run toward the central city. On a whim I diverted from the main road up over hilly streets and emerged at the top of an incredible esplanade. At first light, I stared at this sublime sight and blessed to be there, that place, that time. A rave run for all time, some moments you never forget.
Milan! In all my life I had never traveled to the country of my ancestors. The place seemed foreign yet so familiar. The cathedral Duomo raised up withing a broad square like a beacon of civilization, and it was. Running through the early morning streets, quiet yet stirring to life. How often does one get the chance to run past a castle at first light. And then to return for a proper tour. The Last Supper awaited; a religious icon up close we toured. And then down the street a formal dinner in an age-old restaurant. Another dream came to life.
It takes time to process all these moments, to capture and hold them in your memory. What did I learn? That the world is a big broad amazing place, full of history and architecture, great food, surprising vistas, and wonderful people. All of them. And with us