The faces , the peeling walls , the thatched roofs of the huts and the tin shacks , the street food , the  heat, the immense cities, all these strange writings in unknown alphabets , the curiosity of the people , the villages , the tea , the change of currencies, the border crossing , all the beds and rooms changed, every day a different day , vendors of all kinds of merchandise , the schedules of trains and planes and buses and boats , the cloaks and the umbrellas of the monks, the Buddha’s smiles , the happy eyes of the children, the sad eyes of the children, the dark faces of the Indians and their mustaches , the serene gaze of the Dalai Lama , friends from everywhere and their dreams , the sunsets over the temples , the various attempts to fool me , the blue seas , to find out that the traditional market has changed to a modern one, the damned mischievous monkeys , the skyscrapers of Hong Kong and their neon lights , thinking what to do and where to go , the skipped plans , the new plans , to do and undo to create something beautiful, getting stuck in the traffic in Jakarta, the endless bargaining for pay just a few cents less, meeting a friend in Tokyo, plan a trip and then having to change everything and improvise on the spot for something new and unexpected, the photographs , the boats on the Mekong , the kidney pain , to ride an elephant , the Tibetan flags , to learn how to say hello and thank you in the language of the country that I’m visiting , to wash clothes under the shower, the dust, the bicycle tours , drinking in an Izakaya in Osaka, the hope of the people and their fears, the requested information received with the utmost courtesy, climbing mountains , the blue skin of Shiva , the belly of Ganesha, the Kuching riverside, the waits at airports and at the train stations , sleeping on any surface , the old Korean songs in a club in Hongdae, go anywhere and with any fellow comrade , the dragons and the tigers and the legends , the noodles , an old stranger woman who gave me a good morning in the streets of Melaka , watch and contemplate unknown landscapes from the window of a broken-down bus , the song of geckos , the sand beaches , being seen as the aliens, my bad English , the infinite wall of China , all the time spent on finding a way to support myself, the visas and long waiting for obtaining them , almost crying in front of the Gundam statue in Odaiba, the scooters , the buses and the buses and the buses again , the traffic, the noisy fans in the room that made difficult to sleep , the excellent shrimp eaten on a Cambodian beach , the endless check-ins and check outs , exchange information and experiences with other travelers, the streets, the waitings for luggage at the airport,  laughing and joking with a young street vendor in a bagan temple , the spitting red of the Indians and Burmese who chew the paan , the Vietnamese sleeping busses, the different power sockets and adapters , the bag snatch in Kuala Lumpur, the strange fruits , saying goodbye to someone, the crazy nights in Itaewon, the unique smell of durian, to ride a camel , surfing in Dulan, drinking with locals Beer Lao in a small village in Laos, the maps of the area, the endless 7-eleven at any corners, to sit next to strangers and share a smile, the Indian festival held basically every days , the sad eyes of a lady gazing at the sea in Busan, the Tibetan prayers and their songs, the horrors of wars , wlaking hand in hand, cooking Italian food for strangers, singing in a noraebang in Seoul, to say fuck off to someone, to say sorry to someone, riding a motorbike on the North coast of Taiwan, to get by in any situations at any cost, the accelerations that crush you against the seat of the plane taking off , the Korean East sea, hitchhiking around Taiwan, meet again a familiar smile, the bumps on the streets that make you jump on the seat of a bus, facing any kind of problems by myself, the loud music , the Kilometre zero of Indonesia, to take risks avoiding future regrets, walking with flip flops , book a flight to some unknown destinations, a local market, listening to someone’s life story, the will to live and not just survive as an animal, climbing the Mount Misen in Miyajima Island, to find out that was not the right one and pack everything and leave, trying to understand a new culture, the green rice fields in Mae Hong Son, a coffee with a stranger, getting pissed by a culture, the funny panda , a friend who introduce me to the local food, the desperate need of freedom, make a lady cry in front of the Taipei 101, the strange animals in the Singapore zoo , the expiring date of the visa, the sea goddess Mazu, trying to overcome the limits of cultures, to try every kind of food that people usually eat even if it’s really weird, to share everything with anyone , getting bored of a place, the Korean alphabet, the phones with ringtones shoot at full volume, writing a blog, the karaoke and the dramas on the TV on the south east Asian busses , leaving a country, the ladies in high heels cycling under the snow in Fukuoka, getting drunk in a village festival in the Borneo jungle, the subways, the amazingly strong Haenyeo in Jeju Island, the few things in my backpack , a friend’s wedding in Hangzhou, the kisses, getting lost in overthinking, the kindness of the people, the last goodbye to a familiar smile, the Nepalese boys who share with me some snacks, the Korean idols, the veils of female students in Malaysia , the first night in Bangkok where I could not breathe for the extreme heat , the Himalayan glaciers , the rain, the wind, the new flavors , the emails and text messages with far friends , to teach someone else what you know, to learn from every event and person, the love that is hidden behind the eyes full of fears, the colors of everything that surrounds me , aim and gaze at the map of the world to continue to dream this beautiful dream.

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Luca Sartor

Solo Traveller, in love with Asian countries and cultures. Traveling forever, I have lived for years in the Asian continent. Follow me on INSTAGRAM @lucadeluchis