844 days, 20,256 hours, 1,215,360 minutes, or 72,921,600 seconds. That is the approximate duration of my world tour. I never wanted it to end and now, in a manner of speaking, I suppose it never has to. If you wish to go by country do so by clicking on one above. They are numbered in the order I visited them, more or less. If you enjoy reading about it even a tenth as much as I enjoyed living it then you will not have wasted your time. Grab a refreshing beverage, settle in a comfortable chair, and make a journey across the world, experiencing it as I did. Then get off your ass and check it out for yourself. You're not getting any younger.


"You must have been warned against letting the golden hours slip by.
Yes, but some of them are golden only because we let them slip by." 

The world is a beautiful place. The world is an ugly place. Ugliness has an advantage. It has a tendency to stick with you. It has a long half-life. Beauty is the underdog. You need to be reminded. It has adhesive qualities but these properties do not weather well the passage of time. This cruel aspect of the universe is not lost upon me and yet, even I, forget the lyrics to the song from time to time. We are not elephants. We do forget. We must be admonished.

Reminders are not hard to come by and are, for the most part, within our grasp at just about any moment. It could be as simple as closing your eyes and traveling back. Or perhaps staring at a photo, clutching a prized memento, or visiting the 'spot' can serve as our time machine talisman. But even with tools of remembrance so close at hand we, as humans, are burdened with the curse of short term memory.

And although the bad times, it seems, have a longer lasting residual presence many of us do our best to induce amnesia. Maybe this helps to explain the lingering nature of negative memories and the emotions attached thereto. Perhaps the harder you try to forget the easier it is to remember. I believe the effort to be a fools errand. The worst of times is the best of reminders. Loss of memory begets loss of empathy, among other things. Without the pain what kind of person are you? Quite possibly an exceedingly dull one I should think. We must learn from our mistakes, misfortunes, and follies. I have found no better way to appreciate life and all of its associated simplicities and complexities. Without the pain joy is nothing more than a neutral emotion. Neutrality is numbness. Numbness sucks.

But still we forget. Almost without fail each successive adventure serves to remind me of my past travels and the overwhelming sense of euphoria I'd experienced in years past. The longer the hiatus between journeys the more faded my memory of sensation. However, in an instant it all comes rushing back and I find myself once again astonished by my inability to hold firmly upon the memories after a particular experience has ended. It is a perplexing condition, a sort of quasi-Alzheimer's, that is completely reversed when the enterprise begins anew. Suddenly my addiction becomes comprehensible, the motive behind the compulsion clear and unambiguous. I feel....right. If only I could bottle it up and take a swig every now and again to reintoxicate myself. Then again, maybe that is exactly what I've done, at least for this brief period of my life.


  1. that bottle that you can take a swig out to reintoxicate yourself and to relive your addiction... is only as half-empty/full as how you see it.

    go out, buy a ticket, grab the cute redhead, and just get on a plane (or knowing you, a boat.. or a train.. or a tuktuk... hiking shoes.. )

    1. Sometimes the way i see t is irrelevant. Life is merely what it is. Nothing more. Nothing less. I'm fresh out of cute redheads....and tuktuk tickets. I hear female Canadian photographers are lovely this time of century. Know any? (Author's Note: If you're not Canadian then not only is my Mega Memory course a dismal failure but I've just made a colossal assface out of myself. Wouldn't be the first time......if you can believe that.)

  2. Well it must be your lucky day, because not only am I Canadian, but I am also partially biased towards repeat-assface-making world travellers. And I also carry tuktuks on me at times, except these fit in your pockets.

    Like the lingering nature of negative emotions that are a constant reminder, I am going to have to keep reminding you that while there is such a thing in life as simply IS, there is also the notion that sometimes richie's dreams are meant to be continued where they've been left off, or nothing like starting a new one! So yes, not only are canadian photographers lovely at this time of the century(?!?! sheeet), but they have also been known to be crazy in that they foresee little trips on christmas to tundra toronto or sunny florida! after all, why not take that moment, or two, and make it golden, for the sake of it?

    1. Hmmmm...I wonder if continuing this conversation in my blog's 'Comments' section makes us exhibitionists? Huh. Christmas in Toronto? Knock it off. That would give me something to look forward to. No more Florida for me. I'm in glorious Upstate New York. We have the Adirondacks and a prison every 5 miles or so. Its lovely in the winter....if i by lovely I mean balls out cold and wretchedly devoid of color. I think Toronto wins....except for all the maple syrup slurping socialists although I hear they're great at Yahtzee.

      Dream a little dream you say? Que sera, sera, whatever will be, will be, the future's not ours to see, mayhap its not up to me......or some shit along those lines.


'Love me or hate me, but spare me your indifference.' -- Libbie Fudim