I am often asked, in all the countries you have visited, what’s your favorite? The answer is simple: where I am now.
Michèle, my life partner and I thrive in the spontaneity of our travels, following new threads and weaving them with older ones creating a rich tapestry of meaningful connections and experiences. We inherently trust people, always willing to take a chance. Some of our decisions may appear risky to others, but it’s our way of life. One learns so much by listening to others; it sets the stage for discoveries.
It was summer in 1968; I was sixteen and sailing from New York to Rotterdam over ten days with 800 others of similar age. In Rotterdam, everyone broke off to join host families sprinkled throughout Europe. In preparation for this mission, each participant during the crossing attended workshops on language, culture, and customs tailored to the country where they would reside for the summer.
Over a couple of months, I lived with two different German families with children my age. I struggled with German . . . had a shot of schnaps to get over a tummy ache . . . learned to play chess, at which my host father excelled, losing every game though one day I slid by with a win . . . had a German girlfriend . . . wore lederhosen . . . received my first and only speeding ticket while riding a bicycle . . . feasted on a generous plate of shinken, a succulent cured ham, for breakfast.
I remember asking my father before I embarked how I should represent my country when we had experienced so much violence in rapid succession with the assassinations of Martin Luther King, John Kennedy, and his brother Bobby. “Just tell people there are many good people in the US.” Such sage, straightforward advice.
Spending time overseas turned out to be pivotal in how I saw the world and myself. I was honored to have been chosen by the AFS program to be an ambassador for the United States. Upon returning, I eagerly shared my time in Germany through presentations to various groups using my photos to enrich the story. The travel seed was planted and this experience shaped who I am today.
Fast forward to 1994, Michèle and I embarked on a trip to Myanmar. Nearing the end of our first day in Mandalay, Kyaw Kyaw (pronounced Tcho Tcho) and three of his friends greeted us on the street with infectious smiles, asking if we spoke English. They took us to their English school to meet their teacher and her husband, a master puppeteer. We were treated to a delightful evening show of dancing marionettes on a dimly lit stage.
The boys offered to show us around Mandalay the next day. When they arrived on their bicycles, we more fully understood how they intended to be our guides and climbed on the back of their bikes. This simple generosity was touching.
We became quite close and invited a couple of our new friends to join us on a road trip, something we often do on our travels. It provides a deeper immersive experience as we see the country through their eyes and offers them a chance to go somewhere new.
We visited Bagan, climbing through the temples. We saw an image of Buddha; we remarked it looked like a woman. That brought an immediate correction-Buddha was a man, a poignant lesson in perspectives.
We love to travel with our family. Intrigued by our first visit, we returned to Myanmar with our two youngest, nine and eleven, to introduce them to Kyaw Kyaw and his family. We’re firm believers that a child is never too young to travel.
Kyaw Kyaw had a keen interest in coming to America. He was gregarious, kind, and sensitive, reminding me of my 16-year-old self going to Germany. Reflecting on the profound change I had experienced then, we invited him to come and live with us. Just as my father and mother had encouraged my travels, his parents were open to our invitation.
I vividly remember the meeting with his parents, who were running a small family restaurant. Kyaw Kyaw was strikingly silent, a friend interpreted. It was a serious affair; his parents were transferring the care and responsibility of their oldest child to us in a country they did not know—such trust.
Our gift on Christmas 1995 was picking up Kyaw Kyaw at the San Francisco airport. At the time, there was a viewing area above customs, and he looked up with a broad smile, a remarkable, endearing Burmese trait. He was in a suit with a briefcase that he waved above his head. Michèle and I both chuckled, knowing that the young man we had met in flip-flops, a longyi and a t-shirt had nothing in his briefcase besides perhaps his passport.
Kyaw Kyaw lived with us for four years; we sent him to City College for ESL and an associate degree in the hotel and restaurant business. He was an integral part of our family with our two sons and daughter.
His innocence and sincerity were precious.
We took him shopping for a futon as he needed a place to sleep. “But at home, I sleep on the floor.”
One evening, he knelt on the kitchen floor, bowed three times, and read a letter from his father His father counseled, “You must be eternally grateful to Mimi and Greg. They have given you a chance at a new life. You must always obey them.”
Jokingly we said, “why don’t you walk down the hall and explain this to our children.” He sanguinely said, “they will not understand; they have been raised differently.” Being part of our household was valuable to all of us.
After four years, our commitment to his education and support ended. Years later, he reached out and asked if we would come to his university graduation; he modestly hinted that he might receive some award.
As we sat among the graduating class of 5,000, Kyaw Kyaw was on stage with about ten other students, each chosen as outstanding leaders; he was the one for the Asian-American program. A tear came to our eyes then as today as I pen this, all from being open to a chance encounter in the streets of Mandalay.
The ripple effect was long-lasting: he sponsored his sister to come to the States, and they are now both American citizens. Our families are very close. Michèle, three of my siblings, and I went to Myanmar for Kyaw Kyaw’s wedding. I officiated at his sister’s wedding in California.
These experiences and connections with family and friends are the sparks that fuel our travels.