Getting in a fiery bus crash and escaping through the window in India on your second day?
Being groped in the middle of the night in Colombia by a guy you barely know whose parents are letting you stay at their house?
Finding out your hostel is in the equivalent of South Central in Greece?
Being dropped off at an intersection in the Kingston ghetto and walking over a dry aqueduct that has trash piled to the top of either side as far as you can see?
Walking past that into a town of corrugated steel housing and finding your bed for the night in a room with half a dozen other people you just met?
Those are all part of the journey, the experience, the adventure. Those are why we travel. No one cares that you saw tourist trap #34269. Really.
We risk our friends – even our families.
We risk getting ripped off – even robbed.
We risk getting sick or hurt – even dying.
We risk everything because we know the payoff.
We risk everything because we know our souls would die a slow and miserable death of redundancy and boredom if we played it safe.
A traveler’s worst nightmare is not being able to travel at all.