I thought it appropriate to begin a travel-themed blog on this, the tenth anniversary of the issuance of my first passport.
In late 1996, my friend and co-worker, Chris, approached me about taking a trip to Spain with him and his friend Ernesto. I eagerly accepted the invitation, and Chris and I went to the Federal Building here in Los Angeles to apply for our first passports.
Not long after that, Ernesto had to back out, as did Chris. But the thrill of possessing this nifty document was too great, and soon after I found myself at a travel agency, booking a trip to Paris (an airfare/hotel package via American Airlines).
Next, I visited the Central Library and checked-out an armload of travel guidebooks on Paris, and devoured each one voraciously -- a practice I maintain until this day, over twenty-five overseas trips later. I typed up a multi-page itinerary, copied pertinent maps and other pages out of each guidebook, and eagerly awaited my day of departure.
American Airlines used to fly into Orly Aiport, south of the city (it now flies into Charles de Gaulle, to the north). I was pumped with adrenaline, and I'm sure I was smiling a dopey, gleeful smile as the passport control agent provided me with my very first stamp.
I think maybe I'll post some of the highlights of the trips I've taken between that unseasonably warm, late-winter day I arrived in Paris and now in upcoming blogs.
Like, say, how I earned the nickname Ho Chi Minh. Heh.
