The Striking Similarities of Mountaintops and the Millennium Falcon

As we entered the bamboo tunnel of the longhouse awe dripped audibly from the group for the umpteenth time. Oh to live in such rustic simplicity! To wake every morning in a cloud of mosquito net! To glance out the window at mountains straight from the set of Jurassic Park!

It begins to seem like the entire knowable universe has been curated for the tourist's experiential pleasure. Much like store bought icing: a spoonful is great, too much makes you hurl. I love flush toilets as much as the next girl, but we had walked into a hotel not a cultural experience.

On a desperate quest for a moment of spontaneity I found a dirt road (shining brighter than its yellow brick brother in that moment) to sneak me away up the hill. Scaling a solitary boulder, I all at once found myself the unworthy queen of a timeless mountain encrusted in ineffable growth.

I'll own up fully to a slight flair for the dramatic. But really, sometimes the only thing is to embrace it: arms outstretched, eyes closed, soul to the wind. A glorious mountain queen can be dramatic.

I took a moment to embrace the rich cinematic legacy of my cliche posture. Briefly, I was Rose on the prow of the Titanic, Ally being a bird in Noah’s arms and Pocahontas diving the impossible height of a waterfall. As this cloud of cultural history cleared the minutiae of my own climax scene came into focus.

Birds dive bombed the bushes around me in search of dinner. They beat, trilled and cooed my spectacular soundtrack.

The wind, a most perfectly complex nemesis, roared and whispered through treetops—a serpent growing from a distant hiss to a lung-crushing embrace.

A careful ear can distinguish what eyes would reduce to a havoc of green. Full-grown trees quaked patchily under the snakes belly; tufts of grass crunched brown below me; in the right breeze the banana grove thudded obtusely. They're diverse and lovable backup dancers.

Alone with foreign trees I breathed all the way to my edges.

I remember curling my bare toes into rock, anchoring my reality to another. I knew that I was only five minutes from civilization and the group, but civilization was obscured by conspiratorial jungle.

Travel is about more than history and breadth of experience. Learn about where you are, but let it also show you who you are.

A new scene and setting will test what you know about your character. Put your Hermione in Westeros or your Elizabeth Bennet on the Millennium Falcon. Then curl in your toes and see who she is.