Last night we went out with a huge group from our hostel. America, Canada, France, and Switzerland were represented. We all acted like we knew each other for years and yet I’ll probably never see these people again. I think that sums up the best and worst thing about travel quite eloquently – its the people you meet, the conversations you have, and the sad acceptance you experience when the dinner is over and the last drink is finished.
And then for some reason my thoughts go to Misha. His first trip. The truth is that Misha has proved to have more courage in his pinky finger than many people ever exhibit in their whole lives. The courage to attack your problems head on, the courage to not only accept change but welcome it, and the courage to jump blindly into the unknown, not unlike diving into the numbing sapphire depths of Baikal.