I travel overseas quite a lot.
And whilst sometimes I might moan about constantly being on a plane … I know I am incredibly fortunate.
I remember as a kid watching British Airways ads that featured businessmen getting on planes and wondering what sort of job they must do.
Of course the logical answer would be ‘pilot’ but I was too thick to realise that.
In all seriousness, I used to look at these commercials and think only the most important of person would have to fly as part of their job.
Fast forward 30 years and I realise that is all a crock of poo.
Last year I did over 170 flights and the year before that, around 180.
Sure some were Singapore-Malaysia … the equivalent of Nottingham to Derby … but there were quite a few that had DVT potential, ha.
The purpose of this post isn’t to say I am Mr International Man [especially as part of the reason I fly so much is that Jill and I have a ‘no more than 5 nights apart rule’ which means I have to come and go quite frequently, especially when talking about my US travels – sorry environment] it’s actually about the beauty of the passport.
I got my first passport when I was 6 months old.
Given kids grow up in no time, I’ve always wondered the sense of having a ‘baby passport’ but my parents wanted me to have one as they were taking me to see the family in Italy.
Since then, I’ve had a passport all my life.
Before I started cynic, the average 10 year passport would last me … oooooooh, about 10 years … however for the last 7-8 years, I’ve been going go through them in the space of every 18 months.
Again, some of this ‘speed’ is because there are countries that require a full page to be taken up with their particular visa … Australia, HK, China, India etc … however it’s fair to say I travel quite a bit.
The thing is, there is a magic moment when I get a new passport …
It’s at the point where the envelope has arrived holding my old and new document, and I can reach in and literally hold past and potential in my hands.
Looking through the pages of the old one – with its top right hand corner snipped off – takes me back. It lets me remember all I’ve done, seen and experienced.
You’d be amazed how many times I’m shocked about where I’ve been or how many times I’ve visited. It’s almost embarrassing to admit, but quite a few of the countries all blend into one another – especially when my duration is just 1 day and the only things I get to see are the drive from the airport to the meeting.
Then there’s the new passport.
Pristine. Untouched. The spine without a single crease.
You open it and flick through every page …
BLANK
Nothing is there … except possibilities.
Sure you know you’re going to have to go through the rigmarole of getting all the VISA’s put back in … but for that moment its ‘pure’.
In 18 months how will it look?
Yep, a bit dog-eared and faded, but what about inside?
Where will I have been? What will I have seen, experienced, learnt?
A used passport is travel DNA … proof of the life you’ve lived or the life you haven’t … and whilst my working life in Asia has had moments of utter frustration, that has been punctuated by some astounding times of excitement, fulfilment and learning of which underpinning it all, is a little red book that has got me into all sorts of places and situations.
Wherever you are, whatever you do, however successful you are … I assure you of one thing … travel helps make sense of life and countries like Singapore should stop their National Service and mandate people to go on International [Travel] Service instead, because not only do I think it would help their societies and culture, but it might help make the World a better and more productive place as well.