2015 was a weird, good year. Despite a general lack of purpose, crippling anxiety, unchecked alcoholism, humiliating blackouts, moderate depression, and incessant drug use, I’d say it went pretty well. One of my best, I think. It started last February when I taught English at a remote monastery in Nepal, played Xbox, soccer and banjo with little Buddhist monks, sold my iPhone to an older monk, summited Tseko Ri, a mountain in the Himalayas (and the highest I’ve been), got blessed by Buddhist monks and Hindu priests, celebrated Holi, the festival of colors, with a citywide water balloon/color fight in Kathmandu, fell in love, drank obscene amounts of rice beer, celebrated the Nepali New Year 2072, survived the devastating Nepal earthquake, got stuck in the United Arab Emirates, and ended my journey by eating steak at a very random Chili’s in Dubai with a view of the Burj Khalifa, the tallest building in the world.
Then I returned home and worked my ass off to buy a ticket to South America. Five months later I left D.C. with a one-way ticket to Peru. Within a few days of arriving I’d befriended a Danish policeman, British Navy engineer, and Nevadan cattle rancher, all of whom were also traveling solo and plan-less. We explored catacombs in Lima, went on a boat tour of the “Poor Mans Galapagos” (affectionally referred to as Bird Shit Island), went drunken sandboarding at a desert oasis, hiked down into the Peruvian grand canyon, and made a lot of amazing friends along the way. In southern Peru our group split up and I went to Machu Picchu for the first time. Then went back Machu Picchu two days later with the Brit, Jamie (because fuck it), and spent my first Thanksgiving away from home back in Cusco. Jamie and I then travelled across Lake Titicaca into Bolivia, where I played my banjo with a Frenchman in La Paz, we visited the largest salt flats in the world, Salar de Uyuni, and finally left for Chile via a 22 hour overnight bus down the coast. We ended up in Valparaiso, a cool graffiti covered, hippy beach town and relaxed there for a week before Jamie left for New Zealand. Then I spent my first Christmas away from home with about 20 other travelers, and we nearly destroyed the AirBnB that they'd rented for Christmas dinner... I honestly don’t know how the fuck I’ve survived.
Even though I’ve been able to see unbelievably amazing things from around the world, the best part of the year has undoubtedly been the people that I’ve met. It’s been these new friendships that have truly made this year as special as it was. And for that I’m thankful. Of course I’m also thankful for everyone who has put up with my shameless depravity, which I am quite aware of, but for which I refuse to apologize. I will, however, with neither shame nor regret, be forced to continue to suffer in the pit of emotional despair which is my life, and to use these travels as my primary means at warding off my eventual final detachment from reality.
Happy New Years