A friend said something to me recently that made me smile. “You are a walking rainbow.” I laughed when I heard it. But the more I thought about it, the more I realized he might be right.

People often ask me which country has been my favorite. It’s a question I never quite know how to answer. Every country carries its own atmosphere, its own rhythm, and its own way of revealing beauty. How do you compare the silence of the Himalayas to the warmth of Italy, or the elegance of Japan to the vastness of Mongolia?

As I was clearing out old papers in my office, I came across something I almost didn’t keep. A simple card. It was from a trip to New Zealand many years ago. At the end of that journey, the group handed it to me — a card filled with handwritten notes from each traveler.

Today I received a letter from Paul, one of the “original five” travelers who joined me many years ago and who has since become a very Out of all the countries in the world, somehow I find myself in one very specific place, at one very specific moment in time. Sometimes it happens while walking a pilgrimage path like the Camino, the Shikoku. Sometimes it happens during something very simple — sharing a meal, walking to dinner with someone, or pausing in a small street some

Years ago, I once saw a postcard of a beautiful temple in Japan — the elegant vermilion pagoda of Seiganto-Ji standing quietly before the mountains, with the soft white ribbon of Nachi Falls flowing gently in the background.