Tuesday evening, I returned to Bangkok after a twelve-day trip to the United States to renew my Thai visa. This trip, like ever other trip I make by myself, always finds me a bit awash in melancholy. This time, the waves came while eating noodles in the lounge at Narita Airport in Tokyo.
I have been traveling by air since I was a month old. Over the years, I have come to associate air travel with so many things: adventure, family, friends, romance, and escape. On each trip, the moment comes when I feel like I am in transit, literally suspended between points in my life. The idea that I am part of a larger network, knowing friends and family around the globe, excites me. At the same time, I feel disconnected and not at home anywhere in particular.
It is an interesting sensation and one that, the more I experience it, the more inviting it becomes. Maybe there is a point where I cease to be grounded at all and am forever flitting about the globe.