In the fall of my senior year in college, I sat talking to Victoria who lived down the hall in our shared dormitory. Her mother had just taken her on a month-long safari in Africa. You know – the colonial throwback kind where African porters schlep in a bunch of stuff that really shouldn’t be schlepped to the outback … luxurious Persian rugs coddling teak dining room tables which are groaning under the weight of seven courses worth of priceless china. Who needs all that to go see lions, tigers and elephants? But oh my! While the feeling of modern-day colonialism twisted my stomach, I must admit that I also basked in the exoticism of it all. I was hooked.

For the next 15 years, while I endured my time in the dungeons of law firms and courtrooms, I devoured movies and books set in exotic places around the globe. These were the IV that kept my nomadic spirit alive until I was ready to launch my own journey … to Southeast Asia.