Everywhere

As-Salaam Alaikum.

Had the day off yesterday. I have the day off tomorrow. It's a Christmas Miracle. On our days off we go to Doha, to which you may be thinking "aren't you in Doha?" Nope. I'm in America right now. On a small sliver of land on a Qatari military installation. We have an American mall, complete with BX, Taco Bell, Pizza Hut, Arby's, and a spa (a real spa, not sitting alert). We have the American postal service. We have Wi-Fi with American Football. Everybody speaks English, making my attempts to learn Arabic irrelevant. So yes, I'm in Doha, but not really. When we get days off, we get to go to the real Doha. We get to travel.

I have now been to 27 countries. When I tell people that a lot of them are surprised, "Only 27? I thought you've been everywhere..." Everywhere gets a lot bigger when you actually try to go everywhere. (Plus how many countries have you been to? Four? And Puerto Rico doesn't count, you've been to three.) My 27 is also not counting the dozens of countries I've flown over but never landed; people get too mad when I count flying over the Grand Canyon as having been to the Grand Canyon (people literally drive there, and then pay money to get in a helicopter and fly over it, if that's the best part of the attraction then I'm counting it). I'm rambling.

So 27 countries. I counted Qatar when we finally left the installation. I was driving, I always seem to be at the helm when interesting shit happens. But then again most people who can fly a 300,000lb airplane can also drive a stick shift in a country with slightly different traffic laws than our own, so who drives is usually decided by who either does or doesn't want to do it; I usually do because I think it's exciting and brings about that feeling of wonder and something new that no one's had at the wheel of a car since they were 16 and driving for the first time. And I think it's precisely that feeling which guides the urge in us to travel: something new.

We went to some Arabic restaurant for lunch in Doha. It was actually Yemeni, but that's like comparing Mexican food to Texan food: if you don't have the proximity to tell the difference then it's the same fucking thing. This restaurant was packed and the guy at the door told us we could sit anywhere we could find a seat, this included the floor. There wasn't a single table left available, so we had to decide between finding a different restaurant, or taking off our shoes and sitting on the floor.

This is why I think I've found my niche among travelers and pilots and people who are of the world, but don't even really seem to care because we do it all the time. We spend so much time crawling the globe that we become just as comfortable completely immersed abroad as we do with the comforts of home. When faced with the decision to sit on the floor to eat lunch, there was no "are we allowed to?"..."let's wait for a table"...or..."I'm not doing that." It was a simple agreement among the three of us: "Fuck it. I'm hungry"...and..."don't forget, it's rude to show the bottoms of your feet."

I asked Traver if he'd ever had a meal like this, while I used my hands and lack of silverware to tear off another piece of pita bread to dip into my mutton stew. "Nope, there's always been an open table." I think that pretty well summarizes my point. No matter how long you spend traveling, there is always something new, unintended or otherwise, and it is impossible to do it all. You may be able to try anything or go anywhere, but you can't experience everything, and you can't go Everywhere.

Everywhere is a concept tantamount to infinity. It's a kindle to the imagination, but in reality it's impossible. Everywhere is a coastline paradox: while finite in area, it's endless in measurement. As you zoom out, Everywhere gets very small, very confined, doable; but the closer you look, the bigger a task Everywhere becomes. Every continent is seven. Every country is 194. Every city is... well, you see the problem?

What about every language? Every road? Every nightclub? Every tiny family-run cafe? Including the one at the end of an alley in a neighborhood off the main road in a suburb of a city in Cambodia? Have you been there? That's a part of Everywhere.

I used to say "I want to go Everywhere twice." It was intentionally absurdist. Actually I still say it. Looking at my mental whiteboard of travels, I'm not doing half-bad upon first glance. I've been to Los Angeles twice, New York City twice, Miami twice (nine times actually). I've been to Cambodia twice, the Seoul Incheon Airport twice, Sevilla twice... the list goes on. But I've never been to the Staple's Center. I've never been to JFK. I've never been to Star Island. I've never been to Mondulkiri, I've never seen the Rosetta Stone and the Pyramids in the same day twice. I've never been to a mental institution. Again... the list goes on. The more you zoom in, the more you realize how astonishingly little you've managed to chip away at Everywhere.

That's why we travel. The world is an endless pot of new things, entirely new experiences. We can grow accustomed to and bored by the act of finding and exploring new places, but that's just physically being acclimated to movement. Still, you can never avoid the surreal feeling of a first encounter while on a quest for Everywhere. Everywhere is so boundless, so grand and everlasting by nature, it will never run dry.

You can go pretty much anywhere, outside of your hometown, and call it travel. It may not be far or particularly interesting, but it makes no difference in the eye of Everywhere. As you get further and further from home and the exotic smells and sounds flare and attack your sense of solace, Everywhere begins to grow. When it becomes addiction, and the countries and continents are getting checked off and you know how to say "cheers" in eight languages, Everywhere is still out there.

While you salsa dance in Spain with your wife or have a picnic on a sand dune, while you teach English to a class of orphans in South East Asia or hike through the jungle, while you're at the top of a Burj watching the sunset over an island shaped like a palm tree or while you fly over it five years later, it's growing. While you're climbing the Akropolis or trying to surf in Waikiki or eating with your hands on the floor of a Yemeni restaurant, you aren't getting any closer. Everywhere will grow and grow as you gain perception of simply how much there is.

Eventually every traveler will realize that Everywhere is not to be conquered; there's no end to it. And that is very good news! We can keep going, forever, traveling and finding things for the first time. And while Everywhere will seem like it gets bigger and bigger the more we see, it is as it always was: infinite.

Daunting infinity doesn't stop the urge to journey, it only promises the adventure will never cease. For some it's one of the best promises in life, elevated to a religious level making neighbors with the concepts of love or humanity. It's one of the few wonders in life that's sustainable. It's why I'm so grateful to have the job and life I've found myself in, because the world will always be out there. It's why my answer is always the same when people ask me, "where do you want to go the most?"

Everywhere.