Firsts are later accompanied by a peculiar melancholy;
After the initial thrill of discovering new lands, subsequent ventures still hold a hint of challenge yet lack the unbridled excitement of discovering uncharted territories
Our first experience, even if replicated countless times before us, remains uniquely personal. It’s a touch so intimate, so unique, that we recount it tirelessly, bewildered by the lack of due admiration. After all, others have experienced it firsthand, read about it (rendering personal exploration redundant), or simply lack interest. They view our enthusiasm with a mix of amusement and concern, wondering if an exorcism might be necessary.
Life, undeniably, is a tapestry woven with first experiences and the well-worn threads of routine
Even today, a vivid memory come back to me when a dream from my distant youth suddenly stood before me. It materialized within reach on a dreary November day, with a drizzle that seeps into your bones, yet is so gentle you resist the urge to open your umbrella.
The change of the millennium made no impression on us. Time and its human reckoning are relative, a necessary ritual to close something or open something. But they do not have to be sanctified by social acquiescence.
my the 21st century truly began on that November evening in 2003, on a way home from work
The travel agency’s window displayed a constant allure: exotic getaways to South America, Africa, and Asia. My gaze was always drawn to the one in red—Tibet. Since my teenage years I had been tempted by the Tibetan highlands and sighed in vain for the Himalayas.And this thorn of the unattainable stuck under my skin all the time.
That day, as I trudged home, despair overwhelmed me. I was drowning, on the verge of collapse. I imagined myself trapped in a dark tunnel, with the distant light resembling an approaching train… an escape from the pain.
It had been six months since my father’s death. In denial that, I buried myself in work, believing it to be the antidote to grief. It wasn’t. Grief needs to be acknowledged, lest it consume us. Now, I understand. Back then, I refused.
Lost in our own dark thoughts, my friend and I walked. Out of habit, I glanced at the travel agency’s window again, muttering, ‘Oh, how I’d love to go there. Just once, that one trip of a lifetime…’
Then, my friend uttered one of the most significant sentences of my life, ‘After all, we could go.’
We could. The possibility had existed for a long time, but I had been oblivious. Times had changed, and the world was at my fingertips. I was blind to it. We had savings and could earn the rest and adjust our priorities. So why not go?
The sorrow and grief didn’t vanish on the street that day. I can’t even claim I felt a little better. What followed were the darkest two months of my life, a freefall into the abyss and… hitting rock bottom…
But the glimmer of possibility and a thought of the journey became a splinter, which turned into a sturdy beam from a wrecked ship.
With it, I was able to reach the shore
Less than two years later, we boarded a plane to fly via Delhi to Nepal and then to Tibet. And then there was that first time, which will not happen again…
