Tuesday, 24 December 2013

Henry’s (Legendary) Holiday Season in India (Part 2)

Written while hiding in a hotel lobby on December 24, 2013

I didn’t plan on writing in detail about Khajuraho but crazy events warrant crazy long entries.

Action, Drama and Suspense at the Khajuraho Train Station

Coles notes: I was caught in the middle of several angry men at the train station and things were turning violent. I went ice cold and super smooth like Maverick from Top Gun and successfully piloted my way through the situation. Still, things could have gone south and I could have ended up in a police station or something.

What happened yesterday morning en route to Khajuraho was just insane. With some help at the Orchha station from a local who was also en-route to Khajuraho (Train Guy), I boarded the correct train to our shared destination. Train Guy actually worked in the tourism industry. He was a pretty cool dude and we chatted a bit during the 6 hour journey.

Side note: I was watching some James Bond on the train and every time a sexy love-making scene came on, my neighbour would call everyone else over to crowd around my laptop. It was pretty hilarious.

I was expecting a hotel driver with my name written on a piece of paper to receive me at the station. Upon getting off the train, I met the driver from the Surya Hotel (Mr. Surya) on the train platform and we proceeded to exit the station. That’s when another guy with a sign saying “Henry, Hotel Casa Di William” (CDW 1) came running up to me. Apparently, I booked a room at his hotel as well and he was also supposed to take me into town. 

The problem was that while I did talk to both hotels while researching accommodations, I did not remember which hotel I booked and I definitely did not reserve rooms at two different hotels. I usually make a habit of writing down my accommodation details before bouncing to another city but I forgot this time around (rookie mistake). So there I was at the train station trying to figure out which driver I was supposed to go back with. I was completely confused and taken off guard.

Mr. Surya and CDW1 both asserted that I booked at their hotel. Before you know it, things really escalated and the guys were almost getting physically violent with each other. That’s when another representative from Hotel Casa Di William (CDW2) joined the mix and, of course, he sided with CDW1. These guys were fighting real hard for my business. Another five or six locals saw the commotion and crowded in to watch the action. Seconds later Train Guy saw the mess and came over to offer bringing me into town so I can figure things out from there.

Everyone was shouting angrily to the point where they were physically pushing and grabbing each other. It was almost like one of those immature high school fights except these were adult Indian men. Things were getting seriously heated and I was right in the center of it all. I was sure punches were about to be thrown. Khajuraho is famous for its ancient erotic Kama Sutra carvings but being surrounded by ten angry men at its train station was not the gangbang experience I was hoping for. I knew I had to figure things out quickly otherwise I was in deep shit. If I chose the wrong driver to follow, I could have dishonoured a reservation commitment if not end up at some shady place to get mugged. However, if I didn’t choose quickly, things would have escalated out of control.

Where it all went down (I took this photo upon returning to the station the next night for an outbound train ride)

Thankfully, I can keep my cool under pressure. I recognized I was ultimately the customer and was in charge of the situation. I shouted in a commanding and dominating voice “EVERYBODY, BACK OFF RIGHT NOW AND CALM DOWN.” Everyone literally took a step back in fear and cooled off a bit. I thanked Train Guy for his help and assured him I had the situation under control so that he could go back home to his family. Now to get to business, Sherlock Holmes style.

The only hint I had to go on was the last number I dialled from my phone, which was presumably for the hotel I booked. I called and there was no answer. The number was 271144. CDW2 showed me his business card noting the number for his hotel as 271244. One digit off. Maybe I booked with his hotel after all, but I wanted to be sure and started testing Mr. Surya. I told Mr. Surya to call his hotel and he dialled a different number in his phone. The CDW’s got really aggressive here “SEE! He’s not with the Surya Hotel. He’s a scammer. Do NOT trust him!!” The shouting and shoving resumed.

Again, I asserted myself and brought the temperature back down. I pulled out my laptop to check my PDF Lonely Planet guide. Yes, in the center of a circle of 10 angry men I was calmly booting up my laptop and perusing through a 1000 page PDF file. Ice cool baby. It was like 2 minutes of extremely awkward silence. According to the guidebook, 271144 belonged none other than the Surya Hotel.

So at this point I was sure I had a reservation at the Surya hotel but I had to validate that Mr. Surya was actually going to take me there and not somewhere to get mugged. I was so sceptical of everything at this point. I called 271144 again and nobody responded, so I had Mr. Surya call his hotel. I had to logical test the shit out of the guy on the other end of the phone to make sure I was talking to the same person who I booked my room with.

“What time did I call you when I made the reservation?”
“What types of questions did I ask you?”
“Which restaurant is across the street from your hotel?”

Everything checked out. I was going with Mr. Surya.

CDW1 and CDW2 got outright aggressive at this point. They tightly grabbed my body and my backpack to prevent me from leaving. “You’re wasting our time! Why did you book our hotel as well. Give me rupees or else we will report this to the police!” They were extremely angry and completely in my face. I had to forcefully make my way to Mr. Surya’s rickshaw and get out of that situation. I did have a size advantage over the guys and in the worst case scenario I was ready to drop them if they got violent with me first.

It was a pretty nerve racking ride to the hotel. I kept my cool in the heat of the situation but my nerves unwound afterwards and I was thinking crazy thoughts like “what if they catch up to me in another rickshaw and jump into mine with a knife?” I mean, I did just watch Octopussy the other day where that exact thing happened. My headspace was in the shits. Mr. Surya told me he was pretty much ready to start throwing punches.

Upon arriving at the hotel, I explained what happened to the hotel manager. It turned out some hotels in town don’t have much business and they will send drivers to the station regardless of having a reservation in the hopes of seducing tourists to their hotel. That explains why they sent two people to pick me up. Things seem more believable when there is a corroborator, not to mention if things got violent they had brute force on their side. It also explains why the hotel kept asking me detailed questions about my arrival time when I called for information.

I cannot believe they tried forcefully coercing me to their hotel like that. I am tempted to leave a bad review online but I am holding off in the event there was an honest misunderstanding. If indeed that was a scam, it was the most aggressive one I’ve seen between the 20 countries I’ve backpacked through. Thankfully everything turned out okay in the end.

Lesson learned: don’t give any of my information to hotels I’m talking to while researching accommodations unless absolutely necessary.

How (Not) to Build an Ecosystem for Tourism

Given it’s a more touristy place, the touts in Khajuraho are outright aggressive. I can’t walk 3 minutes around in this town without someone badgering me to buy something from them. They’ll start off trying to make friendly talk like “where are you from? Do you like India?” before making their intentions clear. Pretty much every single local is telling me not to trust the other locals. I actually love interacting with people and find it very uncomforting not being able to trust anyone as I talk to them. They aren’t allowed past the gates of the tourist sights so I find myself just making a straight dash to the “safety zone” anytime someone starts bothering me. It’s really unfortunate how things came to this.

Travellers flock to places like Laos in Southeast Asia because of how amazing and friendly its people are. There are no epic monuments or natural scenery to speak of in Laos. In contrast, people avoid India because of this aggression.

I walked by restaurant in Orchha where the shopkeeper asked if I wanted breakfast. I kindly refused and he responded with “Ok, you’re welcome. Have a nice day!” I went back to his restaurant later that day and was happy to give him my business (he also gave me the mouldy 10 rupee note mentioned in my last blog entry... that bastard.)

Good service is good for business. If tourism sector staff in Khajuraho worked collaboratively to give good service rather than aggressively mowing each other down on a daily basis for business, this place would be booming with tourists ready to spend and there would be wealth for all to enjoy. Not to mention much less stress for the touts as they try to screw each other over.

Some of the more interesting interactions:

  • ·      One tout followed me for 15 minutes in trying to get me to visit his shop. I went to a barber shop for a haircut and he was literally sitting there waiting for me to finish. I politely declined him many times before pulling my special last-resort move: “Look, I am Chinese and I do not have money to spend. You are wasting your time with me. Go outside and find someone with a white face. You can earn more money from them.” He left shortly after.
  • ·         A rickshaw driver offered me a ride for 50 rupees to the train station where all other drivers were offering 150. I originally accepted but texted him later to turn him down because it seemed too good to be true. He showed up at the hotel anyways to pick me up and I had to hide in the lobby (as I wrote this blog entry) to prevent him from coming in aggressively. I saw him later at the train station. He had to go there anyways so that’s why he offered a good price. I turned down an honest deal because of all the other scams in town.
  • ·      I had probably forty people try to sell me something over the last 2 days. It’s too intense and I honestly feel like a shallow walking ATM in this part of the country. I literally felt anxious every time I stepped outside of my hotel.
A Heart Warming Realization

During my first day in Khujaraho, Mr. Surya (his name is JP) took me around to some of the more distant temples for a reasonable price and then invited me to his home for dinner. He has a beautiful family and also takes care of his nieces/nephews, so overall he is responsible for 4 children. After spending an entire day with me, he earned about $10 worth of business from me which is actually a good day for him. From there, he has to pay for gas and dinner. It is hard to believe he is able to support such a large family on so little money.

JP’s daughter, niece and nephew by the campfire in the background

JP making dinner

I had a great time spending time with his family. I worked on my Michael Jackson dance moves with his nephew and watched some Bollywood music videos with the rest of the kids. I enjoyed the delicious dinner him and his wife prepared in the wide open courtyard of his home. This was the first time I got an “inside look” at the life of someone who works in the tourism industry in a developing country.

Yes, some of these folks can be annoying if not aggressive, but I get it now. I still don’t feel bad for the times I’ve been rude to touts, but I do carry a greater level of understanding because of this experience. They’re just trying to get by like the rest of us. If anything, their stakes are higher because they don’t have big savings accounts like some of us.

The Rewards of a Painful Experience in Khajuraho

I have been blessed with the opportunity to lay eyes on some of the finest temples in the world in Khajuraho. The seamless combination of architecture and artistry into a feast for the eyes is just awe-inspiring.

Sunset behind an eastern temple

Amazing Vishnu statue

 Just incredibly artistic and detailed carvings


Men getting friendly with a horse

 Doing my best solo Kama Sutra pose

 Hank the Travelling Domo getting in the action

Just beautiful

An Update on the Sticky Situation

45 minutes of scrubbing later I managed to get 80% of the mysterious sticky substance off my bag. I have never dealt with anything like this before, it’s like perma-sticky super glue. It took a combination of soap and pulling individual sticky bits off to clean it out. I think I need hot water to melt the rest off. Something like this happens during every trip. Backpacking is full of surprises.

Monday, 23 December 2013

Henry’s (Legendary) Holiday Season in India - Part 1

Written inside a mud hut in rural India on December 21, 2013

It’s about time I make more of a stereotypical travel blog entry. This is my first EPIC ADVENTURE in India (my beach trip to Goa is too touristy to count).

I was originally contemplating a nice 5 day trip over the holidays but my boss graciously suggested I take a few extra days to connect the weekends. After wrapping up any work I couldn’t finish on the road, I started planning my 12 day holiday in India!

Planning in India: Far From Fun

I stayed up until 2am on a Saturday just figuring out how to book trains in India. I might have found the one thing more confusing to me than women. Trains in this country typically book up months in advance but there’s a foreign tourist quota for each train to help out with last minute backpacking plans. Purchasing these tickets required a 3 hour round trip to the Mumbai CST station, followed by another hour or so at the ticket counter.  Working around transportation and accommodation limitations, I managed to cobble together a sick itinerary:
  • Orchha, a quaint ancient town to unwind from a long train ride
  • Khajuraho, an orgy of ancient erotic and sexy Kama Sutra carvings
  • Allahabad, home of the kumbh-mela, India’s largest religious festival
  • Bodh Gaya, THE spot where Buddha reached enlightenment
  • Varanasi, one of the holiest places in India
  • Followed by a site visit to Dhar, a tribal area where I will perform due diligence on a non-profit’s menstrual hygiene program

The Solo Traveller

I probably could have made more effort to find some company on this trip but I feel like getting some Henry time these days. I loaded up some old school James Bond movies, starting right from the Sean Connery days, to keep myself entertained. Who prefers to spend Christmas and New Years alone anyways? This guy.

My First Train Ride in India

After hearing how disgusting trains in India can be, I booked a 2nd class ticket (out of 4 classes) and found it to be actually a great experience. The car was quite clean and I was pleased to be able to travel halfway across the country at a price of $25. I had a good conversation with a young politician in Bhopal who was also the owner of an upscale fitness club. He loves his country and is trying to set a good example for other Indians by keeping his journey garbage in his own bag (otherwise it gets dumped on the tracks). India needs more politicians like him.

I also watched Octopussy, filmed in India, to properly get my adventure kicked off. Roger Moore’s James Bond is like the classiest creepy-dude ever.

16 Hours Later: Hello Orchha

My first stop was a town called Orchha, the capital of the Bundela rajas from the 16th century to 1783. It is somewhat off the beaten track and known to be a laid back place to hang out. It was the best 1.5 days I’ve had in India so far.

I stayed about 1.5 km away from Orchha in a village mud-hut homestay created by a non-profit, Friends of Orchha. The village Ganj went through a rough drought a few years ago and the livelihood of its people was greatly compromised. Friends of Orchha financed homes for the villagers which will then be repaid through the homestay program. It costs nearly $10 per night including dinner and about half the money goes to the host family up front. At the end of the year, the balance will be paid to the family after taking out administration and maintenance costs (the non-profit supports some infrastructure in the area like groundwater wells).

My host’s patriarch is Ram Babu, with a wife and three daughters. They were the first to pay off their house thanks to the economic contribution of homestay guests.

These are the 2 youngest daughters, Kushi and Nidhi. They are super adorable.


Home sweet home

The mud hut was quite homely and comfortable, and the neighbouring villagers are amazingly nice. They made delicious roti bread in an oven right in the courtyard of the home. It was incredibly heart-warming to spend an evening with a family of five after dinner huddled around a small black-and-white TV in rural India. I left early in the morning and Ram Babu made a fire for me so that I wouldn't be stuck waiting in the cold. Just amazing people. This is something everybody should do at least once in their lifetime, especially if it supports the livelihoods of rural poor people.

Exploring Orchha’s Amazing Architecture

I have a flair for getting off the beaten track. I literally had two massive palaces to myself during the whole morning. Orchha is an incredible place with an earthy charm to it. It is a town of ancient palaces and temples with scale near that of the ancillary temples of the Angkor Wat. I exhausted myself climbing and exploring all the nooks and crannies of the structures.

Courtyard of the Raj Mahal

Magnificent detail carved into the windows

Condom wrapper found in one of the upper floors. Guess this place is frequently deserted. The sex must have been either legendary (because of the epic heights) or mediocre (from fear of heights)

 View from the top of the Jehinger Mahal with the Raj Mahal in the background. Did I mention I got the whole place pretty much to myself?

Peace and Quiet

Eventually a few more folks started exploring the main structures so I bounced and found a mini-palace nearby. Again, it was literally abandoned so I set up camp in the main living hall and meditated. To finish off the experience, I did a bit of yoga and worked out the travel kinks in my body. It was just amazing to enjoy an ancient mansion to myself for a few hours.

My meditation hall

 This might be my best selfie ever

Peace and quiet interrupted! These kids noticed me and came running in for a photoshoot.

The Mouldy Bill

A restaurant owner gave me a mouldy 10 rupee bill for change that nobody else would accept. I tried sneaking it to like 5-6 vendors and they all refused it. I just couldn’t get rid of the damn thing. Eventually, I was just going to throw it out and figured maybe someone poor could make use of it. I gave it to a beggar and triggered an unexpected chain reaction where over a dozen nearby beggars flocked over to me for more. I was literally surrounded like a sexy rock star but not in a good way. I cleared a path for myself and rushed away before it got out of control. One little girl followed me for another 200m or so before giving up. Lesson learned: don’t give money to beggars unless nobody can see it.

A Sticky Situation.... WTF?

I placed my backpack under the train bunk beds on the way to Orchha and got some sticky substance all over my backpack. It is translucent in color and has a honey-like viscosity to it. Luckily I had my rain-cover on but this stuff is super contagious and anything it touches turns to stickiness. I got a little bit on my sock and now the insides of my right shoe are also sticky. Unfortunately there’s no running water with the homestay so I’ve quarantined everything with patches of toilet paper until I get to proper facilities to clean this shit off.

Eww what is this

2 pieces of toilet paper = problem solved

A Reminder of What I like

I had an amazing time at Orchha and came to remember the types of places I love to travel to:
  • Off the beaten track
  • Middle of rural nowhere, far far from most of civilization
  • Full of warm-hearted people living simple lives
  • Basic accommodations
  • I feel like I’m almost the only tourist there

The experiences I had over the last couple days reminded me of great times I had in Yunnan, China and Bolivia. I’m going to actively seek these experiences over the next few months and create the space I need to continue loving life and growing.

I played with these puppies in the middle of a palace courtyard and took a few photos of them. As I left, I realized their mom was resting under a bench nearby and totally could have fucked me up if she misread my intentions. Lesson learned: check for mama before playing with baby animals.

 
I had so many great interactions with the people here. Here I am playing with a little boy who was pretending to throw things at me and I responded in kind by pretending to get mortally injured. Pictures say a thousand words. He was loving it!

Overall, Hank the Travelling Domo rates these last couple days 10/10!

Sunday, 15 December 2013

We are the 1%... (yet we still don’t have enough?)

Entry started on Friday November 29th, 2013

It is 3:00am on Friday November 29th, 2013 and I can’t fall asleep because my brain won’t stop processing economic statistics. Numbers have a way of captivating my brain in ways that words can’t describe, leaving me in a state of paralysis until my psychological chaos turns to discernible patterns. And the patterns are unsettling.

I just shared a cab ride with one of my co-workers from a night out on the town and we had one of the most enlightening conversations since I arrived to India. Of all things, we talked about the economic reality of India. Bars in Mumbai were a new experience for both of us and we couldn’t help but make observations about how the well-off party away into the night while much of the country still suffers from poverty and underdevelopment. Just as there is a time for celebrating a tough week at the office, there is also a time to reflect on how we live a fortunate lifestyle which only few in the world enjoy.

We are the 1%. Really.

 “We are the 99%” was coined as part of the Occupy Wall Street movement and reflects societal discord that the rest of us “99%” are paying the price for the mistakes of a tiny upper class minority. There was much hatred and jealousy towards the ultra-elite that have seemingly built their worlds on everyone else’s shoulders. Well, more of us are part of that 1% than we think.

I first came across these statistics while learning about poverty in 2008:

  • 1.4 billion people, or nearly 20% of the world’s population, lives on less than $1.25/day
  • Considered much more fortunate than the first category, the next richest 60% of the world’s population lives less than $10/day 

Stalin himself said that while the death of one man is a tragedy, the death of many is a statistic. These figures are so staggering for me that they can at times lose their meaning. It’s only when I relate them to myself that I can finally have an appreciation for the true scale of poverty:

  • I earn more in three weeks than 80% of the people in this world make in a year
  • My Nikon D90 is worth more than the networth of some of the people it has captured
  • By the time I was 20, I had more money in my savings account than 20% of the world’s population earns in their lifetime
  • I am about to travel halfway across India by train for $10 and I’m actually blown away by how good of a deal it is. While that’s pocket change for me, some have to save for weeks to afford that ticket

Sure, I was fortunate to have an entrepreneurial stint and a high-paying oil and gas internship, but that only put me a few years ahead of my peers. I am so grateful for what I have and visiting the developing world every couple years is the only way I maintain perspective and stay humble.


Taken during my South America trip in 2011: this is the Rocinha Favela (favela = slum in Portuguese) in Rio de Janeiro. It is the world’s largest slum at near 2.3 square km’s. The population of Rocinha is estimated to be anywhere from 60,000 to 150,000 although some believe more than 400,000 people live in this favela

I am one of the richest people in the world for no reason other than where I was born

Being born into the first world is in so many ways a privilege. Our slap chops and snuggies are made in China. When we can’t watch our NetFlix because our internet is down, our help desk calls are answered by Indians. Our offices are cleaned by immigrants. Even within India, the middle and upper classes have easy access to cheap labour. We are the ones to have lived a decadent life on the backs of everywhere else. We cannot be the 1% without the other 99%. We have become a society where we are quick to place blame on the ultra-elite before looking in the mirror.

In Calgary, I used to volunteer for the Aga Khan foundation as a corporate promoter for the World Partnership Walk (WPW), an annual event that raises money for a great organization focused on alleviating poverty. I went from corporation to corporation in downtown Calgary delivering lunchtime presentations about the WPW and the development it supports. I organized a presentation, with food sponsored by Subway, for 12 members of my company. Only 3 actually showed up to the event, 1 of which was at the presentation.

Sadly, even a room full of individuals with huge earning potential and great careers were eager to receive a free lunch on account of a presentation on poverty. This extends to the development space too, where I have heard of meetings at the UN where its attendees will say “if they aren’t serving lunch here I’m going to leave”. I read somewhere that when you start paying attention to the world, the world stops paying attention to you. This certainly holds true for me. I have lost more friends than I gained through sharing my passion for creating a better world.

Poverty hides plain sight: this photo of a slum was taken during my first day in India from the railway platform of the Bandra Railway Station. My first impression of the country was watching an adolescent girl openly defecating right onto a railway track here. Bandra is one of the poshest neighbourhoods in the city where many of India’s Bollywood stars live, yet one still easily finds poverty within arm’s reach.

Just as the Occupy movement led to no change in the behaviours of the ultra-elite, an Apple ad for the next iPad is more likely to move us to line up at the nearest Apple Store than an emotional TV advertisement on global poverty will move us to take action on the issue. Some would even enjoy having a free lunch in the process. We already have literally the entire world at our disposal, yet we can only focus on our problems and continue to ignore the needs of others. Should we really be surprised that the Occupy movement did nothing substantial to change the way our corporations think?

“I blame big oil and Wall Street bankers for this one. GRRRRRRRR.”

I struggled at this point in my entry to conclude my thoughts and wasn’t sure where to go from here. It bothered me for weeks until somehow, in a rickshaw on my way to the Dasra office one morning, I had an epiphany.

The 1% is actually no better off than the 99%

The happiest and most generous people I have ever met in my life were the poorest. The first time this ever shocked me was truly a picturesque moment in Laos where I watched a father carry his daughter towards his simple dwelling made of bamboo and wood. His face beamed with a heart-warming smile brighter than the sunset over the valley. I will never forget that smile. 

In appreciation for the simple things, Indian locals immensely enjoy getting me to take photos of them with my camera. One of my best life experiences was living in a rural homestay in China where my fellow villagers lived simple lives full of compassion. They may be poor financially but have a form of wealth that some of us may never know.

This boy in the Chor Bazaar of Mumbai asked me to take his photo. He is our future. By 2022, 25% of the world’s working population will be in India. In his eyes I see his optimism, kindness and curiosity. He has captured my heart and has given me hope in our future.

We have much to learn from the poor and we have no right to feel so insecure when we already have so much. Somewhere in our quest for economic liberty we created a society based on insecurity and fear:

  • For a country with more liberty and wealth than most in the world, it is surprising that 1 in 10 Americans take anti-depressants
  • In chasing a prestigious career path, 93% of law school graduates in Vancouver, Canada are unable to find articling placements with law firms and are left unemployed or in roles undeserving of their talents
  • Karoshi is a world-famous Japanese word for “death from overwork” where, believe it or not, workers would rather give their lives to their companies than to give it to themselves

The up-and-coming parts of the world are not too far behind us in unhappiness either: 

  • South Korean mothers have stopped birthing children because it is becoming too expensive to provide their children with the educational opportunities that would earn them respect in their communities
  • A Chinese friend of mine had experienced several of her friends committing suicide in University because of the immense societal pressure and expectations on them. An economic miracle, the country now ranks 7th in the world in its suicide rate

Our constant climb to the top has made us lose our humanity. At the end of the day, what is it all for?

I believe that we can do so much better

Any one who is able to read this blog from the comfort of their home is part of the real 1%. If the poor can be so incredibly happy, why can't we? Imagine a world where we are able to cast away our insecurities and simply lived by what our inner voices guide us towards. We would stop consuming useless crap and have much more of what truly nourishes our souls like music, art, theatre, dance, philosophy, generosity, laughter, joy and love. We would actually talk to our neighbours and stop to open doors for others. Some may even become philanthropists.

The other 99% looks up to us as a model for their lives. What kind of world do we want them to strive for? 

My opinion: hopefully not the one we live in.



Saturday, 30 November 2013

First World Homelessness: The Story of My Life

Written in transit between Bombay and Goa, India on Friday November 15, 2013

Note: I’ve received a comment that this journal entry is DEEP and HEAVY, perhaps too much for some readers. It is, however, a real reflection of who I am and this journal is meant to be candid documentation of my views. I’m just intense and sexy like that. Treat it as free press. Choose to enjoy it, skim it, or discard it.

Here I am sitting in the Chhatrapati Shivaji International Airport of Bombay en route to Goa. A Chinese Canadian in an Indian airport surrounded by an ocean of Indians. I am overwhelmed by a feeling that I do not belong here. In this present moment, more than ever, I find myself asking myself a long unanswered burning question… where the heck do I belong in the world?

Only in recent human history do we live in a globally nomadic society where most corners of the globe can be reached within 24 hours. In the past couple days, I met an American who has only been back to the states once in the past five years and a Taiwanese girl who has spent significant amounts of time abroad since she was 16. Like me, they are exploring the world to explore themselves.

This is my journal to document my journey home

The first entry in my journal is a long one to reflect on the blessed life I have lived, the places I have called (but haven’t necessarily felt at) home, and how I came to the point now where I find myself waking up every day next to the Arabian Sea.

My current seven month sabbatical isn’t the first epic voyage I have ever embarked on. My first sabbatical comprised half a year backpacking through Asia where I found peace with my Asian heritage and learned to value experiences over materialism. My second journey entailed six weeks in South America where I discovered my inner activist, anarchist and environmentalist. Both of these pauses in life formed who I am today and have brought me closer to my true self.

My current, and third, journey is to be the grand finale of a trilogy that spans over a year of my life spent on the road living out of my beloved 65L Lowe Alpine backpack. How will this final expedition shape me for the rest of my life? The real answer will come with time, but for now, I still find myself asking… where is home?

I tell people that I was born in Hong Kong, my family is in Calgary and my stuff is in Vancouver. My story nowhere near as confusing as some of the truly global citizens of the world but I still have seldom felt a sense of emotional belonging no matter where I was in the universe. The journey of my life has taken to many stops, and there are surely many more to come, but I can’t help but think of where my last stop will be.  Let’s start at the beginning.

First stop: Hong Kong…

The Pearl of the Orient

The bustling semi-autonomous region of China where I was born. I always felt a sense of warmth and home in this city, despite having some major language and cultural differences to its people as a Canadian-raised Chinese. I really do love it. But its frenetic lifestyle and claustrophobic living spaces leave much to be desired as a place to raise children. My family emigrated from HK when I was two years old to…

Calgary, Canada…

Took a lot of HDR to make this city pretty

The wealthy oil town of a wealthy country. Even growing up there, I never felt as though I actually belonged in Calgary. I always saw it as a small town comprising too many people with too limited of a view of the world. There are two economic sectors in this town: oil, and gas. Its populace is paid too much to contribute too little. Don’t get me wrong, there are discrete examples of amazing people in the city, but the cultural law of averages in the city work against my favour. As one can say Hong Kong is spatially claustrophobic for someone used to open spaces, Calgary is intellectually claustrophobic for someone used to open thinking.

Needless to say, I felt incredibly lonely and misunderstood growing up in this city. Luckily my family in Calgary is self-sufficient and open to having me live anywhere in the world, giving me no obligations to stay.  In 2007, a series of unexpected events serendipitously gave me purpose in leaving the city, leading me to…

Shanghai, China…

Known as the showpiece of modern day China, Shanghai is a city I ran into by accident. My life turned around when I picked up the traveller’s curse during my first major backpacking excursion across Asia in 2008. After 22 years of feeling like a social misfit and awkward guy, I finally found a sense of peace and belonging cruising through the universe with the many other free-living backpackers on the road. Despite my passion for travelling, I always knew I couldn’t always float endlessly as I need to live a life of purpose and contribution.

This photo of me symbolizes my journey: hope, mystery, vastness

I’m grateful fate brought me to Shanghai when my original plan to teach English near Beijing fell through. I felt something in this city that I had never felt before: a deep sense of purpose and belonging. I was volunteering as an English teacher for a number of months and found great pride in my work. I met fantastic people with the same purpose as myself. I learned a lot about my Chinese culture and history. I sunk my teeth into the city and made it my own. And needless to say, as with the best moments in any man’s life, a girl was involved. It was a simple yet fulfilling life. I loved Shanghai and was happy to call it home.

The iconic Pearl TV Tower looks phallic from this angle

The evolution I embraced over the months prior leading up to an amazing experience in Shanghai brought me to levels of joy I never experienced. I slept like a baby and woke up each morning elated to live my happy life. I was enlightened, playful, generous and finally at peace with who I was as a person. To this day, I believe my best and highest was the Henry found in Shanghai during 2008. However…

All good things come to an end…
My fantasy globetrotting lifestyle came to an abrupt halt when life as a prospective Chartered Accountant in Canada beckoned me back to Calgary. I cried for hours as I left Shanghai. I remember staring out the window of my train and watching the city I loved so much slip away from my sight as I travelled to Beijing for my outbound flight. I remember crawling into my train bunk, curling up and having to accept that the most incredible time of my life was coming to its closure.

One could say that I was born again. I worked hard to keep my optimism and new outlook in Calgary, making new friends and exploring what I could around the city. However, the intellectual claustrophobia of the city ate away at me and took away all that I had gained in 2008. I couldn’t relate to any of the typical conversations about how the Calgary Flames were doing or what macroeconomic factors were influencing oil prices. It took a lot of pretending to socially integrate with the people and I myself only relating to others who wanted to get out of the city. For any global thinker, the place was suffocating. I kept telling myself that I should have stayed in Asia. Negativity took over my life and, at times, I stopped sleeping.

I really fought my downward spiral and grew desperate in the process. I was living in the past by looking at my old photos, listening to music from a different time and even got into the wrong relationships just to try and slow the decline. Many of the bad habits I have today came from that time in my life: I was living in the past and fantasizing about the future in order to avoid facing the reality of the present. Sadly, it worked, and the band-aid solution of pretending my reality didn’t exist slowed the downfall. This was a time when I stopped fully investing in everything around me – friendships, relationships, knowledge – believing that all of it would become obsolete when I could finally leave the city. In hindsight, I would have done things different.

I was lost, empty, frustrated and demoralized. All but one of my flames of passion were extinguished: travel, bringing me to…

Quito, Ecuador…
Colonial and volcanic

One of my last stops in South America, Quito is an eclectic city nestled in middle of an extremely volcanic region. Strangely, I felt a sense of home here. I stopped in the city for five full days, a record given that I was covering seven countries in six weeks, and the pause in the city felt reinvigorating. This trip was where I reaffirmed two things:


  1. I can’t travel just for the sake of travelling and I need to make a contribution to the world
  2. I felt alive again just to leave Calgary and I needed to distance myself from the city
When I returned to Calgary from my trip, I started firing on all engines to move to a new city, which brought me to…

New beginnings in Vancouver, Canada…

My first night living in Vancouver's Yaletown

When the opportunity arose to move to Vancouver in 2011, a place where I always thought I’d feel at home, I jumped right on it. It is truly one of the best cities in the world. I created an insanely great life in Vancouver. I have become friends with amazing people, grown exponentially in areas I can’t even describe and have become a part of the pulse of the city. I have extended family there and two cousins who I see as my little sisters. I’m a high performer in the city’s top management consultancy. In the summertime, I eat dinner while watching the sun set over the ocean from my balcony and I spend most nights stargazing on the beach. My weekends and evenings are eventful. I have so much that simply would have been impossible to have in Calgary.

I truly lived a life I loved where I did not have anything to complain about, yet despite everything I was grateful for, I didn’t feel a sense of home in Vancouver.  Nor did I feel like I was moving forward in my life. Maybe I haven’t given the city enough time yet, but I still felt frustrated and stuck. This is when I started realizing that the problem wasn’t the environment I was in. The problem was within me.

Sometimes, new beginnings are just more of the same old…
I returned to Shanghai in 2012 as part of a regular three-week vacation and I expected my arrival to trigger an immense rush of emotions that would instantly transform me back to the awesome Henry of 2008. To my dismay, something was permanently lost within me.
Shanghai came across as an infinite expanse of structures and people without any of the substance I used to feel for it, even as I visited some of my favorite spots that used to mean so much to me. How is it that, in four short years, such a special place had no more meaning to me?

I felt hollow on the inside and started a quest to re-discover myself within the boundaries of Vancouver. I delved deeply into personal transformation, taking courses such as Landmark and receiving mentorship from great leaders in my life. I challenged myself through conquering deeply seeded fears in relationships and dating. I even received counselling from both a psychologist and psychiatrist. How could someone living such a fortunate life, with all the mentors and inner-zen articles in the world, still end up in such a dark place?

I worked hard to find answers but nothing I tried made an impact. The more I sought peace, the more I found turbulence, leading me down a very dark path. Every corner I turned unveiled more that I felt I needed to fix. Cleaning up the bad habits and internal rot I had created over the years came at a great price. I felt like the transformation came too little too late, and my soul had already been lost. My psyche deteriorated and I became an insomniac with a doctor-diagnosed clinical level of depression. Mind you, I was a high performing, ass kicking, guns blazing depressed insomniac. I don’t let much get in the way of my success and contribution to others, but that wasn’t a sustainable way of life and I ran my health into the ground in the process. One can only run on 3-4 hours of sleep a night before the body breaks down like an engine without oil. I lived as a high achiever with a one way ticket on a bullet train into a concrete wall.

Note: I have spent 2 weeks contemplating whether or not to even publicize this journal because of the last paragraph. I believe that societal stigmas around psychological illnesses has held many people back from opening up and getting the treatment they need. It takes courage to facing these challenges, but they are a huge part of what makes me who I am today. Depression is like an emotional blindfold, and part of what gives me the ability to go forth and live an amazing life is a detachment from emotional outcomes. I plan on writing more about this in the future.

Then a glimmer of hope arrived. I came across an old travel video I recorded of myself in Cambodia while I was volunteering for Habitat for Humanity in 2008. The video was somewhere along the lines of “Dear future Henry: after all you have seen and done in this impoverished country, don’t live a life without purpose. Don’t settle for anything less than an amazing life.” Tears ran down my eyes as I watched this video, realized how wise I used to be, and how far the apple has fallen from the tree. Suddenly, everything made sense to me: an amazing life doesn’t mean anything if it is lived without purpose and intention. This moment, along with some brutally honest conversations with many important people in my life, galvanized me into action and led me to…

The place I call home today: Bombay, India…


A sprawling cultural and economic hub of Asia where I hope to find spirituality and peace. For reasons I have been unable to explain, India has always beckoned me. During my time here, I want to find the best parts of me that I can sustain no matter where I live in the world. The universe will be at my disposal over the next 7 months.
So what’s my life in Bombay like these days? Well, I am volunteering at Dasra, a leading strategic philanthropy in India where I will apply my skills in Finance and Strategy towards creating positive social change. I live in a matchbox 250-300 sq ft studio in the city’s expat district with its own kitchenette, laundry machine and washroom for $470/month. The studio is inside another apartment with my own separate entrance, so I enjoy a combination of a homestay and my own private pad. My landlord is awesome and claims to be a Bollywood actor, although I haven’t been able to verify this on the internet. While it’s clean, cozy and makes a great place to rest my head, it is just claustrophobic enough to force me outside and enjoy the city.

Whether Bombay likes it or not, I am making it home for the next while. I struggled a bit initially while acclimatizing to heat strokes, a case of bed bugs, different meal times, unfamiliar foods and germs: all the stuff that comes with moving to a new place. For over a week now I have been waking up with thick yellow eye crusties around my eyes from my body pushing out the germs and pollution through my eye sockets.  That’s totally too much information but it’s important to note how much my body hates me right now.
However, I’m starting to embrace and enjoy the life here. Yes, I got some pills for those eye-crusties. My daily life in Bombay is pretty much as follows:

  •          Alarm. Blarrggghhh.
  •          Morning jog by the Arabian Sea or bodyweight workouts at the playground across the street from me (Rocky Balboa Eye of the Tiger style)
  •          Self-made western style breakfast at home
  •          Explain to a rickshaw driver, who speaks extremely limited English, how to get to Dasra. 20 minute ride to the office for about $1.00
  •          Get intercepted by Coconut Man who parks outside Dasra. Coconut Man doesn’t let me leave until I start my day with a fresh $0.50 coconut
  •          Regular day-job hours at Dasra. Save the world type stuff. I work with amazing people and have good conversations. Will post another entry in detail about Dasra later on
  •          Order in Indian lunch, usually around $1.50-$2. Someone at the office usually helps me with lunch suggestions and ordering
  •          Explain to another rickshaw driver how to get home
  •          Homemade Indian-style dinner from landlord’s wife for $1.50. So delicious. Seeking applications for future wives who can cook Indian food
  •          Light exploring in my neighbourhood or veg out
  •          Weekend expat events and likely some exploring with new friends around the city
Coconut Man: An unstoppable force of salesmanship 

Dasra's digs. The big balcony is where we have lunch

 Daily dinner made by my landlord's wife

My awesome studio

Bombay is a great city with plenty of hustle and bustle. Given the economic profile of the city where many still live in slums, I feel as though I’m truly living as one of the top 1% in the city. That’s saying a lot for a city of 20 million residents. I am truly blessed and grateful for what I have here.

I know I will have an amazing experience here but this is just another part of the very long journey of my amazing life. So what’s next?

...(insert next place to call home here)…
There hasn’t been a day for the past five years of my life where I haven’t thought, in one form or another… “what the hell am I doing here? ” What the hell haven’t I gotten out of Calgary yet? Why did I move to Vancouver? How did I end up at this airport surrounded by an ocean of Indians?

I have lived adrift ever since I picked up the travellers curse and stepped onto a plane destined for Asia on December 31, 2007. Since then, I have had no ties to any geographical location and a permanent feeling that life can take me anywhere. My next stop can be Vancouver, New York City, San Francisco, London, Singapore or any other destination in the world. I have moved around so much that orientating myself in a new city, settling in and making new friends has all but become but a routine for me. I have lived the last six years of my life without an anchor or knowledge about where I’ll even be in the next six months. It’s no wonder I feel so unsettled.

A trilogy implies that there is an ending, and while I will enjoy every moment of my last great journey here in India, I can’t wait to put my solo backpacking lifestyle behind me. I want to find a place where I belong. Without that, I am a floater. A drifter. A nomad. Desperately seeking a time and place that is worth stopping, rather than pausing, for. A place to put down my bag and truly call… home.

So what have others thought of the idea of home and belonging? Early in my 2008 backpacking journey, a woman told me “home is where your backpack is”. I recently watched a TED talk on the topic and the speaker’s adage was “home is where you grow”. The first view is underpinned by material belongings while the second by an expectation of self-advancement.  I can’t adopt either mindset.

Someone else said “home is where your heart is”. I love that way of looking at it because, after doing so much to change my external environment, I now believe a sense of belonging and purpose is found within. Where does my heart belong? Well, that’s what I’m figuring out right now…

…(insert the last place to call home here)…