There is a fine line between discomfort and danger in the context of travel. Discomfort is that sexy stretching of one’s personal parameters in pursuit of a broader lens on life. Danger is being reckless, indulgent and getting too stoned on a night train in India.
I can’t remember the exact moment my brain ascended…
Passport? Check. Camera equipment? Double check. Preparation for incoming intercultural tension?
Whoops.
Flying into Indonesia’s capital of Jakarta in April, I was met with a swathe of humidity, durian ice cream and endless traffic jams. I found the city to be an attack on the senses in every way. It filled my nose with the…