26. Travellers.

I've never been a very good traveller, but I've learnt to embrace tourism in all its tacky glory:

Along the way, I've also been fortunate enough to meet some true travellers and hear their stories.

In Istanbul, I ran into a group of cyclists. They hadn't started their journey together; they'd all met in Turkey and hit it off so well they decided to continue together. They told me how different cycling was from travelling by any other means. A young Australian had cycled across South America, relying on people offering him a place to stay in remote areas. He'd been travelling for several years on several continents and made his living by running a website related to his travels. He had a daily budget of three Australian dollars, and kept a roster of all his expenses to enable him to keep travelling on no money. Another one in the group, a young girl, had travelled around Iran. She'd made friends with local youngsters and had seen how Iranian girls party it up inside the safety of their houses. When asked about the dangers of travelling as a lone woman, she always said, "The likelihood of me getting my ass grabbed is far greater in Canada than in Iran." She was hoping to become a writer for travel books and always carried a notebook with her.

In Rome, I met an American named Scott. He hadn' t been much of a traveller, either. He refused to travel to countries whose language he didn't know for fear of intruding on the locals. At university, he decided to start studying Italian and got an internship in Naples. I met him on his holiday in Rome and crushed on him like virgin girls abroad alone for the first time crush on gay guys. Five years later, I still remember him clear as day.

He was offered a career in Broadway musicals, but decided to study Biochemistry instead when he realized he could imagine a life without music and dance. He contemplated becoming a practising Buddhist, and had ten shots once a week with his unimates. He tanned easily and worried about his hair. He loved Michelangelo's Pieta (one of them, I suppose) and marvelled at Bernini with me. He was endlessly curious about other cultures and hated Americanization. He was robbed twice in three months in Naples, but still thought it a lovely city. He seemed like one of the kindest and genuinely present people I've ever met with an endless thirst for people's stories.

I hope he is well and out there, exploring the world.