By Aviv
For almost eight full months I traveled under the impression that there were not many young people traveling on a gap year before university. Then, I reached Southeast Asia.
Arriving after traveling for a little more than a month in Japan and Taiwan, the streets of Phnom Penh greeted me with a chaos and haphazardness that I had not witnessed since my time in India. Humidity extracting liters of sweat from my body, the unrelenting sun beating down my neck, tuk-tuks swerving around my body by the slightest of margins; it was nice to be back in a familiar environment. However, the biggest shock I had in Cambodia was walking into my hostel, ready to mingle with the same 20-something year old traveler from Europe who just finished their Masters or is in between jobs.
Instead, as if stepping out of Plato’s cave, it was very surprising to learn that a gap year at 18 years old is quite a banal undertaking in many parts of the world, especially in the United Kingdom, Netherlands, and Germany. My impression, through many conversations with other travelers, is that taking a few months off before beginning higher education is a socially accepted practice, and the most common place to visit for those travelers is Southeast Asia. In hindsight, I feel conflicted about the amount of credit that such a culture supportive of gap year traveling should receive, considering that most kids are solely caught up in partying while following a well worn path through the region. Still, I do believe that there are profound benefits from visiting foreign countries with different cultures, people, and lifestyles.
My time in Cambodia itself was brief, as I had only four days until I was to meet a friend from back home in Laos. My top priority was to visit one of the most noteworthy historical sites in the world: Angkor Wat. The Buddhist-Hindu temple, built in the 12th century, boasts complex architectural designs, ornate religious carvings, and all on an incredibly impressive scale that spans many acres. Managing to squeeze it in on a four day trip and on short notice was a logistical headache, but I can say it was the most well-worth headache of my life. Alongside my visit to Siem Reap, I also visited two museums dedicated to the Cambodian genocide perpetrated by the Khmer Republic. The S-21 Museum is the site of a former high school that was utilized as a detention and torturing center. The most gut-wrenching of features was the display of thousands of pictures of the victims, many of which were kids, lined up throughout every room. On my last night, I took a food tour (where I happened to meet a Duke alum), and my stomach must have been nervous as it endured a frog, cricket, and silkworm, but no harm, other than that of poor taste, came from them. All in all, Cambodia is a country that deserves far more than the time I had for it, yet the expression “short and sweet” is one that I am finally able to use to describe a country I visited during my gap year.
My next visit in Laos and Thailand was a trip arranged rather spontaneously with my good friend, Adam, less than two weeks beforehand. Only a few days after finishing his first year at university, he flew more than thirty hours across the world to get to Vientiane where we would set off on our 19 day journey. To meet a friend from home thousands of miles away in a country unknown to both of us was a surreal moment, one that fused my world from home with my year of traveling.
Initially, I did not have much of a desire to visit Laos. It is a small country with a population the size of New York City, it proffers few if any internationally famed sites, and is overshadowed in popularity by its neighboring countries. In other words, it is one of the best countries to go to for observing authentic culture. This fact becomes even more evident if you happen to be Lao with extended family living in the country eager to receive you and show you around. I do not happen to be Lao, but Adam is and had dozens of family members that he has never met excitedly awaiting his arrival. Therefore, I had the fortunate opportunity to tag along Adam as he was showered with hospitalities, gifts, and tours. After a total of five days spent in the capital city and a small Northern town called Vang Vieng, we took the most popular and efficient mode of travel in Laos, the Boten-Vientiane Railway (financed and run by China), to Luang Prabang. In both times riding them, it was striking to arrive at the stations, as they were massive terminals with large-scale modern architectural designs sitting on the outskirts of towns with poor infrastructure and modest means. The contrast was stark.
Luang Prabang is the fourth largest city in Laos, with a population of 47,000, and a thirty-minute, unpaved drive away lies a small village where Adam’s family resides. Over the course of the next four days, we were guided by Adam’s uncle, Khong, who had an English proficiency limited to only a few words but an expert’s knowledge of the local area. Always pleased to see us taking in and observing Lao sites and tradition, Khong was a tour guide unlike any other I have had, purely motivated by affection and pride of his childhood town. The most unique and memorable experience that Adam and I were able to relish was the traditional Baci ceremony that his family held for us at their household. The ceremony is a Laotian ritual that involves the tying of white strings around a person’s wrist to symbolize blessings as well as protection from inimical spirits. After being given a scarf to wrap around our torso, we sat on a rug-covered floor close to a carefully assorted basket of symbolic flowers, fruits, and plants. Around us, about twenty of his family members, ranging from young kids to elders, formed a circle gazing smilingly at us. Adam and I were surprised by the extent to which we received so much attention, especially once they began chanting Lao mantras we could not understand, nevertheless intended for us. Afterwards, the most intimate part of the ceremony came where each family member would take turns tying strings to each of our wrists whilst staring intensely into our eyes blessing us in Lao. I could not understand anything that any of his family members wished me, but the sincerity and care that each of them afforded was extraordinarily moving. The Baci ceremony was a culturally authentic experience that would not have been possible if not for the fortuity of traveling with Adam. Laos was a wondrous country that offered a rare opportunity difficult to find in its neighboring Southeast Asian countries: immersion in a country untainted by mass tourism.
From the small airport in Luang Prabag, we then flew to Phuket, Thailand. Throughout my travels, I had never been one to prioritize nor seek out partying and wild late nights. It has never been something that particularly appeals to me, and it becomes even more disinteresting when exploring new countries. That said, I would be unable to claim that I have been in Thailand if I did not experience the nightlife there. Ultimately, it never resonated with me, but I’m glad I got to confirm for myself that The Hangover Part II is not an accurate depiction of the nightlife in Bangkok. From elephant sanctuaries in the northern city of Chiang-mai to the Phi Phi Islands in the south all the way to Railay Beach in Krabi, Adam and I put forth a respectable effort to tour all of the country in nine days. We bid farewell to each other on the 22nd of May knowing that I would be back home only two weeks later.
My last destination for my Gap year was decided with one goal in mind: reflecting, relaxing, and relishing the past ten months. The island of Lombok would serve as that perfect place with lush, white-sandy beaches, idyllic surf breaks, and a surprising amount of chic cafes to start my mornings in. Although the next island over from Bali, one of the most oversaturated tourist destinations on Earth, the scarcity and inefficiency of transportation options act as a stringent control on the number of visitors. To best paint a picture of my time there, I will describe what a typical day looked like for me. I would set an alarm to wake up early at around 7 am. Walking thirty seconds out of my beachfront hostel with nothing but swim trunks, I would dip into Kuta Beach with no one else around. Then, I’d head over to Terra Cafe and get my “Holy Trinity” of one espresso, cappuccino, and one pastry. For about 45 minutes, I’d read the New York Times. Afterward, I’d meet up with some other travelers to drive over to a nearby surfers beach. We would take a boat out to Don Don’s left-hand break, perfect for a goofy-footed surfer like myself, and surf for 2-3 hours. Back at the hostel, I’d practice and play guitar undisturbed for hours. Later, I’d read my book, reflect, and journal for some time. Finally, sleep and then repeat. As one can see, it is an ineffably fortunate time, and life, I have been able to have.
Alas, my traveling has come to its inevitable end, but my processing and embracing of it has not. That will only come in gradations over the next few months, years, and hopefully decades. As for the present moment, I have a newfound solace for being back in the presence of family, cherishing the comfort that only home can offer.
