Traveling Lite

I HAVE A FRIEND of nearly fifty years who started a small business more than forty years ago, kept at it, and succeeded. Thought somewhat reluctant to travel when he was y oung, in fact he suffered early on in life with a comprehensive "socisl phobia", he eventually overcame his inner demons and busted out, hit the road, so to speak. since he is the sort who decides what he prefers and sticks with it, he developed a pattern of traveling to Equador, India, and Viet Nam, not necessarily in that order. he also threw in a few new Mexico visits, along with a few others. But Equador, India, and Viet Nam were his main stays. Never, as far as I could tell, Europe. Over the years I noticed that his trevels indeed took place in predictable patterns. As he described his journeys, it became evident that in fact within each fo these countries he had settled on certian towns, cities, and tourist destinations as his stopping points, every trip. I began tow onder about the reason for his seeming aversion to spontaneous variety. What I didn't realize was that these towns and tourist sites were in fact points of departure for impromptu, spontaneous excersions into the back country, into the areas of foreign countries off the beaten track, where not only most foreign tourists did not go, but neither did the locals. In this way he racked up a considerable body of culturally exploratory experiences. Far ranging quests into the unknown, with safe, solid bases of operation always fairly near at hand. What intrigued me was that he spent more time, much more time, teling about the towns and bases of operation than the unique, spontaneous adventures, which I had begin to suspect were actually far more interesting. One emboldened day I brached it. So what exactly do you do on these uplanned, exploratory sidetrips, I said, timidly? I soon learned precisely why he had never talked much about this aspect of his travels. Walked into a quaint village which had a quaint craft store. bought a beautiful, hand made prayer rug. Sampled local cuisine in anoutdoor cafe down the street. Had never had anything like it. Got a ride on an ox cart with a poor farming family, ended up spending the night in their hut, traded descriptions of America for explanations of rural Indian culture. Some things are too beautiful, and too elusive, to describe in words. My friend, obviously, somewho got the attitude that cities and famous tourist sites would be more interetsing to listeners than his personal, quirky, adventures. How wrong he was. Next I might summon the courage to ask him about Europe, and his seeming aversion to it.