Going Places

For years, I had a major hangup about not being as well-travelled as my peers—a hangup which I unscrewed shortly before my graduation by making a mother of a trip to New York City. Since then, I’ve scraped the remains of that hangup with trips of various natures to China, Thailand, Hong Kong and Indonesia, all in the space of a year.

You would think I’m content, but there’s been a nagging itch. Beyond merely travelling, I’ve longed for the quintessential travel buddy experience—the kind of travel experience which is amplified because of the presence of a friend to take all those shameless photos you want of yourself, to watch your back, to collectively savour everything the destination has to offer and recount the adventure with fondness many years on. All my post-New York travels were made in large, organised groups, and the one in which I tried to force a travel buddy situation turned out to be a disaster.

Which is why this morning, as I punched in the last digits of my credit card number into airasia.com, sealing an impulsive deal I made with two close friends just a week before, I felt an inexorable sense of personal triumph.