Chasing the Travel Dragon
They say that once addicts are hooked, they “chase the dragon” and are always pursuing the elusive high of their first time. Because I consider myself a travel junkie, I guess you could say that I, too, am “chasing the dragon” — the travel dragon. 195/195 UN countries. 317/330 TCC destinations. Decades on the road. And yet, I’m still on the chase. The nreasons for it have shifted over the years, but the thrill? That part never goes away.
The Travel Dragon’s Egg Hatches
I grew up in New Orleans, a city bursting with festivals, food, and music—but not travel. None of my friends or family traveled. Besides a one-off family trip to the Canadian Rockies when I was 7 years old, the most exotic it got was a miserable couple of weeks at a sleepaway camp in central Mississippi, which I very quickly determined wasn’t for me.
Fast forward to high school, 1992. I was facing yet another horrible summer at sleepaway camp (this time in Indiana), when a friend mentioned that her family was taking a cruise to see the fjords of Norway. A tiny egg appeared to nest in the depths of my soul — the egg of the travel dragon that I would thereafter forever chase. I wanted to see fjords. I wanted to buy Troll dolls, marvel at clapboard houses, and try reindeer jerky.
It wasn’t until December 1997 that the travel dragon egg officially hatched. My university offered a two-week class in London to study theater, and I leapt. The very moment that I emerged from the London tube onto Russell Square was life changing: as clichéd as it sounds, it was like being in a movie where everything seemed to be in freeze-frame and then suddenly sprang to life: iconic black taxis zoomed around, charmingly well-preserved Victorian row houses surrounded me, and every voice seemed lifted from Masterpiece Theatre.
I still vividly recall the intense, euphoric high that I experienced. There was no mistaking it—the travel dragon was on the loose. Even London’s chilly drizzle couldn’t dampen the high. The Cotswolds were fairy-tale charming, the plays riveting, and that New Year’s Eve at the Lord John Russell Pub? Magical. Both because it was there that I met my first English boyfriend, and because I swear that I saw a leprechaun dance (and no, I wasn’t drunk!).
The Dragon is Stirred from its Slumber
Those two weeks unknowingly set the stage (pun intended!) for what would become my life’s journey. However, life happened, and travel was still fun, but scarce and sporadic. The dragon went into a semihibernation. My twin sister Michelle and I studied jewelry design in Italy, traipsed through Eastern Europe, Central America, and China, where we had incredible moments. However, it wasn’t until 2007 that the dragon fully awakened.
The year before, our beloved tabby cat Samby died. He was no ordinary cat: full of personality, he gobbled McDonald’s fries, enjoyed 1980s easy-listening tunes, and gave high-fives on command.
After Samby passed, life without him felt pointless. So, Michelle and I did what any sane, grieving people would do over a cat: we sold our townhouse, quit our jobs, and bought one-way tickets to Istanbul. We needed a change. While the previous trips were exhilarating and novel, they felt more like vacations. This time, travel functioned more as an escape.
On a tour in Turkmenistan, we met Henry, a cheerful elderly Swede and our first encounter with a Travelers’ Century Club (TCC) member. As I thumbed through his passport, I was befuddled and in awe at the exotic place names that I had never even heard of, like Brunei, Azerbaijan, and Djibouti. Henry proudly exclaimed, “Some people collect postage stamps. I collect countries.”
It was like lightbulbs went off in Michelle’s and my heads. That’s what we wanted to do! The travel dragon had been officially unleashed, and there was no putting it back. Joining the TCC was our new goal, far-flung places of the world, and eaten food that I never thought in a million years would grace my plate (a jumbo fried worm in Zimbabwe and silkworm pupae in South Korea are a couple of mouthwatering examples).
I’ve learned firsthand that while cultures and customs vary, kindness and generosity are universal. I’m often asked what my favorite countries are; while I have an ever-volving list, my favorite memories aren’t just countries, but of the beauty that I have experienced in them: joining a wedding in Chad, walking around the entire country of Nauru, and being gifted a special voodoo doll in Haiti are just a few.
I Chase the Dragon, but the Dragon Chases Souvenirs
I am the self-proclaimed Queen of Souvenirs, and my shopping proclivity is what I’m famous for among my friends. As an artist and designer, I relish the hunt for special items: the more unique, antique, and eclectic, the better.
While I have over a hundred “favorites,” a few of my prized possessions are authentic, impossibly teeny lotus shoes from China, a rug straight out of a nomad’s yurt in Central Asia (which now graces my living room), a puppet from Papua New Guinea that flaps its arms when you pull a string, a dancer’s mask from Sierra Leone, an Eritrean desert nomad girl’s face covering; a cartoon-looking carved coconut “termite” from Cocos-Keeling, and a large painted wooden penis from Bhutan. I also have an impressive collection of kitschy tourist souvenirs. Each item tells a story.
Still on the Chase — Will I Ever Catch the Dragon?
This February, I completed my UN country list with North Korea — #195 — becoming the first non-Russian tourist to enter after COVID. My TCC destinations now stand at 317/330.
The chase is far from over. Travel is no longer a novelty, a vacation, or an escape, but instead my life’s purpose. I look forward to more journeys, festivals, and adventures with my TCC friends.
Starting the day that my cat passed away, I saw butterflies every day for two years. I know that he is forever with me, and one of my life goals is to experience the butterfly migration in Mexico, where I know that I will feel him all around.
As for the travel dragon, I may never succeed in capturing it, but I’m having a heck of a wonderful time on the pursuit. It also doesn’t hurt to have a cool passport stamp to remember it, either. Here’s looking at you, Djibouti!
