I am on the my 4th passport. It just arrived today, and it has the compulsory awful photo, rivaling my driver license photo for Picture of Me I Most Detest. I submitted it anyway. I had it taken at Rite Aid and that lovely overhead fluorescent lighting sure did weird things. Whatever. It’s not a job application; it just needs to get me across borders and this should do the trick. It doesn’t scream terrorist anyway.
I keep all of my old passports. Not really sure why, other than they are briefly amusing when I come across them in random places at odd times. They are a nice record that I have lived a great life and enjoyed many overseas adventures.
It would be hard to pick a favorite place because each trip had its own cool aspects. I went to Greece twice and that was incredible because of how old everything is – a whole new definition of antique. I loved Paris too, because of all the great museums and the Sacre Coeur. In my early days of travel I remember going through customs in some country and they didn’t stamp my passport and I felt gypped out of the proof I’d been there. I like that, almost always, the customs agents back in the US greet me with, “Welcome home!” when I get to their window. Indeed, the global travel is fun, but it always feels great to get home again. I am always changed in some way -- seeing India, for example. The massive population and the slum areas, contrasted with the warmth and spirituality of the people – the poverty was shocking. I’ve never taken my clean water for granted again.
I keep all of my old passports. Not really sure why, other than they are briefly amusing when I come across them in random places at odd times. They are a nice record that I have lived a great life and enjoyed many overseas adventures.
It would be hard to pick a favorite place because each trip had its own cool aspects. I went to Greece twice and that was incredible because of how old everything is – a whole new definition of antique. I loved Paris too, because of all the great museums and the Sacre Coeur. In my early days of travel I remember going through customs in some country and they didn’t stamp my passport and I felt gypped out of the proof I’d been there. I like that, almost always, the customs agents back in the US greet me with, “Welcome home!” when I get to their window. Indeed, the global travel is fun, but it always feels great to get home again. I am always changed in some way -- seeing India, for example. The massive population and the slum areas, contrasted with the warmth and spirituality of the people – the poverty was shocking. I’ve never taken my clean water for granted again.