This is about the time

...to reflect upon the fact that I really have no idea what the fuck I'm doing.

I told someone today that I have no problems with admitting I'm wrong (providing that I am, in fact, proven wrong). That goes hand in hand with freely admitting when I really don't have a clue as to what I'm getting myself into.

But isn't that why we travel? It's not just to see cool shit-- and I firmly believe that the Taj Mahal falls under the heading of "cool shit"-- but to learn about other people, other cultures... and, theoretically, about ourselves. It's tripe, but it's also true.

The other day for about the hundredth time someone asked me why it is that I wanted to travel to India. He said the word "India" with what seemed like a mixture of awe and disgust, which I guess isn't too surprising in and of itself. He also said "I've heard there are a lot of, um, poverished people there." ......... [blank look]........ Poverished. Poverished? Is that a word? Not wanting to say "do you, ah, mean.... 'IMpoverished'?", I stared at him for a moment trying to figure out whether or not I should correct him-- usually a bad idea, and discretion is as we all know the better part of valor- so I marveled at his ignorance instead. This is someone who makes approximately ten times what I do and belongs to what I guess could be called the "upper middle class". I said yes, there are in fact a lot of poor people in India... and wisely let it go at that. It's the poor people I've met who have offered more to me than I could ever ask for. "Poverished" people are some of the nicest, most hospitable people on earth-- to say nothing of the Indian sense of hospitality, from which I think we could all take a few cues. It's cheesy as hell but I personally believe that money does not have any bearing on happiness... although, let's be honest, NOT having to worry about where the next meal is coming from is a mighty big influence on one's state of mind. Many of the nicest people I've ever met come from and/or are existing in the most humble of circumstances. Which begs the question: Why would I NOT want to travel in such a place? Besides the malaria and dengue fever and chikungunya risk, I mean.

As wonderful and relatively "risk-free" as Europe is, India jumped out at me not just because it's a place I've always wanted to see (it is, for as long as I can remember)-- but because I actually *want* to be pushed out of my comfort zone and into completely unknown territory. I can't claim altruistic motives, because the primary reason I travel is to satisfy my endless curiosity. Does that make me selfish? Perhaps. Do I care? Not really.