And off we go . . .
I am a seasoned traveler. I have hitchhiked around Mexico. I have slept in a park in Amsterdam. I have been all over Western Europe. I do not get nervous before I travel. And yet, I find that I have a touch of apprehension about this particular journey.
I have never been to Asia, even as an unknowing baby. I do not speak the language; not even after ten classes of "Chinese for Travel." I do not know the food. (Oh, I have certainly been to more than my share of "Chinese" restaurants, but those don't count according to my friends from China.) I have heard about the air pollution that is sure to make me sick. I have heard about the food that is sure to make me nauseated. I have heard about the repressive government. I have heard about the poverty. I have even heard about the mind-numbingly long flight that is sure to be unkind to my frequently ailing lower back. And yet, there is no clear source for my apprehension. It is merely a general unease, yet it is there, in the background, more often than not of late.
Of course, I will not back out of this trip. Too many people are counting on my presents. Presence. And the unease will pass. Of course it will.
