Over the course of this whole thing, I’ve gone through a stack of classic fiction novels. Some of which I owned previously, some I brought from home, and some were given to me along the way. With time the collection grew, and so did their burden. And since I refused to sell out to the Kindle, I needed to look into solutions to solve my growing dilemma. 

As my pack got heavier, and as time went on, Scott Mackey and I began to meet people on the road. People from all over the world and from all walks of life. And as we met them, I was repeatedly hit over the head with a confusing mix of emotions. You see… what happens is you meet all these wonderful and interesting people, usually a bunch of them at once, but before you know it they’re gone and effectively out of your life forever. They’re traveling just like you. It’s as if you’re reliving your first week of college, but then after that week, everything was totally over. Do this over and over again, and it becomes dizzying after a while. I actually think it’s a lot like scuba diving. You jump into an environment, totally unlike anything you’ve ever known, and you’re engulfed in a scene of brilliant shapes and colors. Other worldly! And then you might see a fish that catches your interest. A gorgeous fish, like something out of a fairy tale. You look closely, you watch it move, and it’s such a complicated looking little thing that you might think to yourself, “My God, I wonder what your story is.” You move closer and closer, and maybe it moves closer to you, you’re fascinated, and as you’re about to commit to that direction of current with the hope of learning something about your new friend — it’s gone. 

In a way, this trip has been one big dive. These people are blips on the radar, fleeting. Filling holes in your life that you never knew you had. You learn from them, you laugh with them, you might even say that you love them. They’re more interesting and more amazing than any town, beach, or tourist attraction you could ever hope to see.  

So, back to the books problem. I decided that as we met these dazzling, fleeting fish on the road, I would give the books away as a sort of “Thank you”, or maybe a reminder of the short time we had together. Some of them understood, some of them didn’t, but their respective reactions were so perfectly suited to them that it really didn’t matter. 

I’d like to tell you about some of these people and the first is Drew Thompson.

Drew Thompson is from Van, Texas. They say you can take a boy out of the country, but you can’t take the country out of the boy. Well, there you have it. He has a sense of adventure that you probably will not find in many of his neighbors. Naturally, he and Scott Mackey have been close friends for years. He put us up in his place for three days in Jeonju, South Korea, and he effectively broke us into the trip. Great food, great partying, and great humor. He’s everything you would expect and more from a country boy who might seem awkwardly out of place until you actually get to know him. I gave him Candide by Voltaire because just like the title character, he’s running all over the world and making the most of everything that comes his way.

I only knew Vas for a few hours in the Philippines but I got the feeling that we probably could have been amazingly close friends. He’s from Leeds, he’s Indian, and he’s about my age. I’m not sure what Vas does for a living, but he seems like he’s just got things under control. And from what I can recall, he had met a girl in Taiwan, fell in love with her, and is now moving there to be with her. Pretty rad. We also own the same obscure tee shirt. I gave him The Great Gatsby and it seemed to fit. I don’t know why, but I really hope I see him again. 

Beijing was interesting. With all of its history and wonder, it’s also one of the dirtiest, smelliest, most crowded, and most confusing places on the face of the earth. It became difficult for me since I began to dwell on these negatives. And so when I met Tanja, a young German woman studying to be a teacher who sort of felt the same way, it was cathartic in a way. She and her two friends crashed our table at the bar. None of them were really having a great time in Beijing, but they had each other, and that was enough to let them laugh about it. Proving that sometimes all you really need in life is a friend. Tanja and I talked about Hitler and all that, and I’ve come to the conclusion that I don’t think I’ll ever really get it. Maybe no one does. I would meet Tanja again, this time in her hometown of Ladenburg, Germany as my last stop of the trip. When you’re on the road for as long as I have been, it sure means the world to have a familiar face see you off. That’s something that words don’t really do justice. I gave her Slaughterhouse-Five because it’s sort of about having a laugh about a tragic situation, and it’s about Hitler and all that. I sent it in the mail.

Somehow, this 21-year old Australian psycho managed to not only refer to himself as “Big Dogg” in the third person …not only made it socially acceptable …but also got other people around him to do it. Namely myself, and Jeff Egan (you might remember him from the Great Wall). Of course, “Bigg Dogg” has a real name but that’s not important. Anyway, for as outwardly ridiculous as this guy was, he also turned out to be incredibly clever and thoughtful. He knows his way around the English language as well as any teacher I’ve ever had, and for his age, probably has the most developed sense of humor I’ve ever encountered in my life. All of this amounting to some seriously good banter. You might describe him as “banterous”. I know he would. The three of us took a three-week booze cruise around Thailand together. In the midst of all that partying, I often felt out of place being around all these 20 year old kids, but he was able to help me forget about my age and any inhibitions I had about making the most of every second. I have the feeling someday people are going to know Big Dogg’s real name pretty well. That is, if he ever gets out of Cambodia. I gave him The Catcher in the Rye. Obviously.

Dune. Well, I left it on the park bench in Jeonju, because honestly who the fuck would you give that book to?

Marvin is a Philipino snorkeler and professional socialite who is probably in his mid-30s. He doesn’t speak English very well, but that doesn’t stop him from being friends with everyone or hitting on attractive white girls. He loves the fish, and he thinks of the them as his friends. Warm and gentle, in their little underwater world. We were having dinner on the roof of a hotel with about 20 other people when I gave him my copy ofThe Old Man and the Sea. It took me two or three attempts to get him to understand what was happening. Once he finally got it, his face light up, he stared at me with shock, and he threw his arms around me. He offered me a joint and I gladly took it. We sat for a second and I explained the story to him. He tried to act like he knew what I was talking about. I doubt he’ll read it, but obviously that doesn’t matter. Later that night, he went around to each person at the table and showed off his new gift to everyone there. 

It was difficult to give away The Sun Also Rises but I gave it to Keith anyway. Keith is a 70 year-old retired Canadian civil rights lawyer, a conspiracy theorist, and chain smoker. He was staying at our youth hostel in Dumaguete and he’d been there for weeks. His face is old and broken. As a conversationalist, he is completely unbearable. He’d make a fine political blogger. Keith, for me, is the startling realization of my greatest dreams and my worst nightmares. He smiles at the world, travels the tropics at his own pace, and lives like a nomad among enthusiastic young travelers. One night he even went to the club with about six of us and he danced his geriatric ass off. Keith is also utterly alone, and although we never talked about it, something about him tells me that it kills him. I don’t know if anyone will be at his funeral. Seeing a sight like Keith, you realize that life offers you so many treasures, but you cannot have them all. Keith knows this. He understands exactly what he can control, exactly what he cannot, and he lives his life accordingly. I admire the hell Keith, and I regret that I didn’t have the heart to tell him. Poor old Keith. I gave him The Sun Also Rises because it is a story about being young and about struggling for control. My hope is that Keith reads it and remembers those days.

I didn’t give Scott Mackey a book and frankly it never really crossed my mind. Scott, for me, is bigger than a book. We flew on planes, rode on trains, we climbed mountains, we swam in reefs, we rode dirt bikes, we drank like champions, we acted like toddlers, got lost together, got sick together, got yelled at together. We branded two big, loud, scalding marks onto our canvases of our lives (not our asses) together. We traveled the world and we lived like brothers. For this reason it wouldn’t feel right to give Scott a book. It is my sincere hope that I’ve given Scott something much more because I know he has given me the gift of a lifetime. I can’t really put it into words. We met a German named Simon — another one of these dazzling, fleeting little fish — who pulled me aside and told me very deliberately how great of a travel partner Scott was, how lucky I was to have him, and I told Simon that I already knew. I would not have done this without Scott, and for all intents and purposes, it is Scott more than anyone who pulled me from the wreckage of my strain and anxiety back home. 

When I got on the plane home last night, I had East of Eden. That book is for me. 

AO