Wide Open Spaces

Time’s a funny thing when you’re on the road.

The anticipation lasts an age, actual journey feels but a few hours, and sometimes the world seems to stop on its axis, a moment expands and you loose yourself.

The four of us sat, bare-chested and happy, legs dangling, as the current lapped at our ankles. Around us locals bantered in their tonal Laotian dialect, cleaning up from the busy day on the Nam Song River. ‘Be home before nightfall’, our gracious hostel host had warned in broken English, ‘river bad after dark’.

As the sun raced across the sky and night drew closer, we stayed on the river, our attention captured, comforting each other with classic Australian phrases, ‘we’ll be right’ or ‘don’t worry about it’.

The day had seen revelers laughing, drinking and splashing their way from dilapidated hut, to shanty bar, many going via the questionably rigged rope swings. These tourists were different to others, more somber, people of the world, keen to have a drink and trade a travel story or two.

I had grown to enjoy the smell of Southeast Asia, the potent blend of poor sewerage systems, roadside barbeques and incense. But here I realised that for the first time since leaving the arrival lounge in Bangkok, I could not smell it. The river smelt much like the Brisbane River during summers at home, yet not entirely the same. This semi-familiar smell was a potent catalyst for happiness. In that moment, as the sun hung just above the furthest mountain peak, my senses reeled.

There we sat, four friends, alone in a place far from home, intoxicated by the spirit of adventure, bond of mateship and embrace of local whiskey. The wood grain, prone to giving splinters, felt exotic beneath my hands. The stubby of BeerLao, warm from the sun, tasted delicious. The fears that gripped me at home, mostly concerned with the future and “growing up” were gone, not pushed to the back of the mind, but in that moment they simply no longer existed.

However, as it goes with time, the moment inevitably passed and the sun sank from view, dyeing the sparse clouds unfathomable shades of pink and purple. A shiver ran through the group, sometimes no words are needed. With slaps on the back, we trudged towards the road. I was gripped by sadness as the warmth of the sun faded from my skin. Then an idea dawned on me.

It’s moments like this why I travel. Why I spend long hours behind the coffee machine and clearing other peoples plates. This is “it”, and it won’t be the last.