Last night while I was out and about around Washington, D.C., I had the great fortune of meeting my driver through a fairly popular transportation app. As we made our way through Penn-Quarter, he began to tell me that he was from Afghanistan, but came to the U.S. as a refuge years ago. We began talking about world travel, how he went to college in India, traveled through Dubai and Europe, the cold weather of Kazakhstan and Canada, how he tried to become a Bollywood actor without fluently knowing Hindi, and how he loves the opportunities each day gives him. He had many adventures, but is ready for all the adventures yet to come. In return, I told him how my grandfather once resettled our family in Nepal for a work opportunity and it became some of the best years of my uncle’s and aunt’s childhoods, how I was born and raised in D.C., of my best memories traveling through Russia and Spain, and what the air along a Mediterranean island tastes like at sunset.
For once, I was happy my ride home took longer than usual.