Anthony Bourdain is one of my favorite people of all time, and he became even more so after he made this remark upon leaving Malaysia. He had just experienced Malay culture to the full: discovering the food, getting a traditional tattoo, spending time in the jungle, killing a pig with a spear as is custom for guests to do, and making the most intriguing friends amidst the language barrier.
The network sent a helicopter to airlift him out of the jungle, an exit he was not proud of. As he was leaving, he didn't feel quite right. He knew that although he may not belong in Malaysia, he definitely didn't belong in New York anymore.
I know the feeling.
It's the feeling of a nomad.
Anthony Bourdain lives the life I have always dreamed of. He is an extremely eloquent writer, a much experienced cook, and gets to travel wherever the heck he wants to and dive into the local color. He gets to be on TV, smoke, drink and swear ruthlessly. Although an object of my admiration, I am afraid to ever meet him knowing he adamantly hates vegetarians.
But, despite our differences in diet, I have felt like him often; every time I have had to leave somewhere.
It's the feeling of being filled to the brim with the enlightenment your journey has revealed to you, and the emptiness accompanying the end of the chapter. As a changed person, you suddenly don't belong where you used to make your home.
What was once familiar becomes foreign, and what was once foreign becomes familiar.
You become hungry for more. Places you have not explored become your craving. And like a glutton, you can't stop.
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