Wow, today is the one year anniversary of my departure. It seems like I’ve been gone forever, and travel is what I do now. Do I miss home? No, but I do miss burritos. And the Simpsons.

In light of today’s landmark date, perhaps a brief summary of the past year would be appropriate.

The journey began in New Zealand. Stranded on the other side of the world, and with no idea how to travel on my own, I took the easy route and booked a tour on a backpacker bus. It was expensive, but good. I met lots of English people, and experienced all of the natural beauties of this amazing country. Canoeing and hiking in Abel Tasman National Park, and learning (sort of) to snowboard in Queenstown were particular highlights. New Zealand is tied with Nepal as the most beautiful country I've visited, and Queenstown is tied with Muktinath in Nepal as the single most beautiful spot I've seen.

After a month in New Zealand, I proceeded to Australia. After hanging out in lovely Melbourne's cafes, I toured the Outback, sleeping in a swag, and climbing Uluru, the Big Red Rock. The ascent of Uluru was the scariest thing I've ever done.

In Cairns I learned to dive, and suffered my first setback when I though I burst an eardrum. Then I was ready to head off on my own, taking the Greyhound down to Sydney. I stopped off at all the traditional backpacker places such as Fraser Island to drive a 4WD on the beach, and Byron Bay, to observe ancient hippies in their natural habitat. Unfortunately, my time in Sydney was limited. Sydney is the most beautiful city I've ever seen.

Then it was off to Asia, where I was welcomed by Singapore's finest bedbugs. I guess nobody told Lee Traveler's Club that Singapore is supposed to be a clean city.

When I got off the train in Malaysia, I though I would be mobbed by suicide bombers. But I learned that the American media distorts reality. Except for its exciting, vibrant capital, KL, I found Malaysia modern and boring, so I proceeded quickly to Thailand, via the karaoke bus.

After a sleepless night on a bus full of drunken Malaysian retards, I experienced my fist, and probably only, culture shock, when I arrived in dirty, chaotic Hat Yai. The confusion was exacerbated by the fact that, unlike other places I had been, nobody spoke English. After I took a nap I was fine. I proceed to Koh Tau, where I dove, then hung out on Koh Pan Ngan for awhile.

After a brief detour back to KL to see the weird Hindu Thaipusan festival, I headed to Bangkok, the ugliest city I ever saw. I quickly flew to Rangoon, Burma, to begin a six week tour of the country. Everything about Burma was great, and it is tied with Cambodia as my favorite country. Scoff if you like, but you really need to visit these places before you write them off as hell-holes due to their bad publicity.

A temple may be a temple, but Rangoon had the single best temple I've ever visited. For the sheer beauty of the golden spires, the peaceful but alive atmosphere of monks chanting in Pali and devotees circumambulating, I challenge you to top Shwegadon Paya.

Then it was off to Nepal for the end of trekking season. The Himalayas were stunningly beautiful, but the people and culture failed to capture my interest. Plus, I was burned out on travel.

After being denied access to Tibet, I returned to Bangkok, a place I could stay indefinitely for cheap, while I figured out what I could do next.