The memories drift in on their own. Staring out the plane window reminds of me of traveling as a child. I would look out the window, listen to music and leave the madness. It was an oasis. It was safe.
I land in Bogota from Aruba, hungover from my best friend’s wedding. After obsessing about this trip for nearly a decade-a multiyear round-the-world backpacking trip-I am reminded that I didn’t bother to learn any other languages.