Adventures with Summer
“Hey, how’s it going?” I texted Summer on WhatsApp.
No response. The next morning:
“Hey! Did you get my text?”
Again nothing… is she ghosting me? This was my first hint that things had changed.
Summer Ogden was not the person she used to be.
Let’s back up…
In June, Summer graduated UCLA in Art History. I flew back from Thailand for the graduation. I was of course happy for her. But at the same time looking back at her college career I was a bit sad — the last two years cooped up under Covid meant she developed relationships with her teaches via Zoom. And making lasting friendships with other students? Nah. Barely happened.
So in the back of my mind I made a plan. Both her and Heather had visited me while I’ve traveled — Christmas 2020 in Istanbul was a gas. Heather also visited me in Guatemala and Thailand. Summer stayed behind because of school.
Now was her turn.
She didn’t have a job. The only commitment was her apartment and her relationship with her boyfriend. I popped the question anyway. “Come travel with me?” I asked. She was surprisingly reluctantly. She eventually agreed to a month. “What!?” I shot back. Ok, three months. As long as she could be back by Christmas.
Alright, next step. Where do we go? I wanted to make the most of this journey together — once in a lifetime, you know.
My first thoughts was Japan, a place the two of us have always fantasized about. We are both foodies with a passion for sushi and Wagu. Why not visit the culinary homeland? The only problem was that Japan was shut down due to Covid and who knew when it would open?
We needed a plan B. Our plan was to leave in September, so I scanned the weather patterns for the rest of Asia (a preplanning habit of mine). Anything north of Indonesia was mired in monsoons. But Indonesia looked promising. The weather would be nice. I also wanted a nice soft landing for her. Someplace she could ease into. Safe. Friendly. Topped with some magic.
It had to be Bali.
I had been there many years earlier and loved it. So much so that I was reluctant to return for fear of tarnishing my memories. I had heard about the changes — the explosion of international tourism. The traffic. What was quaint 30 years ago I feared to be overrun and destroyed. But you can’t run away from the ravages of time, or you might as well stay home. Life is only about change, you know. Embraced it or die.
So I booked a plane from LA to Denpasar. Game on!
Our 17 hour flight to Singapore seemed easier than our 3 hour flight to Denpasar. By the time we got to Ubud it had been 24 hours from when we started. We were tired, of course, but exhilarated at the same time. We were in Bali for God’s sake! Our hotel was tucked away amongst some rice paddies a short walk to “downtown”. Summer was on fire, so excited to be here. It was my first clue that she would fit into this life away from LA.
We spent almost a week in Ubud. Everything I heard about the traffic was true. Intense. It was like any moment we could be run down and killed. Other than that it was lovely. Good restaurants, art galleries and yoga studios everywhere. And the oh-so-lovely Balinese people.
Though many young people filled the streets, I knew there were better places for Summer to find kindred souls. My mission was to not only be her travel partner, but to create an experience for her in which she would grow and spread her wings. So I booked a taxi and sent her to the nearby party town of Changuu. It was time for her to leave the nest and experience hostel living first hand.
And yes, her transformation began.
It has been said that when you have a child that you take your heart out of your chest, give it legs and let it run. It is a vulnerability that every parent shares. It’s one thing when Summer was in a cloistered university environment. But on the other side of the planet, it is even more scary. But it is also my role as a parent to encourage her to take risks and help guide her into situations that will help her grow and succeed as she becomes an adult.
I managed to keep her under my wing for a few months. We spent two months in Indonesia where she learned to scuba dive. We flew to Singapore, then onto Cambodia.
It was in Cambodia that we separated. I flew to Laos and she took a bus north. We agreed to meet up in Chiang Mai, Thailand. I crossed my fingers and said good-bye.
Since then she has not only embraced nomad life, she broke up with her long time boyfriend and has decided to keep traveling the world. For how long? Even she doesn’t know.
Figuring out how to fund this adventure is one of her challenges. But she quickly figured out the cutting her expenses was the first thing to do. She now prefers hostels to hotels. She watches every penny. She’s talking to other travelers about how they survive. But staying in the moment and living life to its fullest is her priority.
It’s not to say its always been easy for her.
She has gotten sick (twice) and learned how to find a doctor or hospital to help her. She has stayed up too late, partied too hard and paid the price. She’s learning to take time off and pace herself. She has made fast friends with people from around the world. She had always been a bit shy, but no more. She’s the ringleader. She is curious. She is brave. She is smart.
I have seen her blossom. In some ways, I hardly recognize her. To say I am amazed is an understatement.
After bouncing around Thailand, she headed to Koh Tao, a small island in the south. She ended up at a hostel called Revolution — the largest and most successful on the island (there are five others in Thailand). She loved it. So much in fact she decided to stay. She got hired as a helper for free room and board. She did such a great job that after a month, the owners decided to make her manager — of the entire hostel! Say what? What I am saying is that she is now the boss. Hiring. Firing. Making sure the hostel is working for everyone. There is even talk of bringing her in as a partner eventually. Consider my mind blown.
Even though she is a working girl, I am happy to report that she has committed to spending April with me and her sister in Vietnam. After that?… well let’s all watch as she heads to the skies.
You go girl!
Footnote…
A few days ago Summer awoke with serious pain in her lower right abdomen. She called me in a bit of a panic. I was convinced it was appendicitis.
“I’m scared daddy” These are words that strike fear into a parent.
She went to the hospital on Koh Tao who then strapped her on a gurney and onto a ferry headed to Koh Samui — where they had a larger hospital that could deal with the possible surgery.
Now I am in India. It’s not far from Thailand, but there are no direct flights from the little town where I’m staying. It could take me twenty hours to get to her side. The plane leaves at midnight. What do I do?
They check her in. It’s a brand new hospital. They run tests. They inject dye into her veins. The pain is so bad that they give her morphine. Luckily she had a friend who lives in Samui who rushes to stay with her. Thank God.
I’m getting as much information as I can. Mostly by text. Even then, it is sporadic. It’s late. The minutes are ticking away. I don’t know if I can get to the airport until the next day. Then another twenty hours to get to her.
Finally the doctor tells her that she doesn’t need surgery. She has colitis. Apparently caused by a severe UTI. We breathe a huge sigh of relief. They plug her into an IV and give her a serious dose of antibiotics and tell her she has to stay in the hospital for the next few days.
We talk and agree that I’ll stay in India.
The next day she starts to feel better. Then by afternoon a yeast infection kicks in. She spiral downwards. She wants her daddy. Over the phone we talk. We talk about how to be strong. How to let the waves of fear pass over her. To breathe. To trust the people looking after her.
It is bedtime. The nurse gives her a sleeping pill. We are still on the phone. I ask her if she wants me to read to her. She cuddles into her sheets as I read her from one of my favorite books by Thich Nhat Hanh. It is so sweet. My heart swells as she softly falls asleep.
The next morning she is better. He mood is strong. The doctors decide to release her and let her go back to Koh Tao. “To my people” she tells me.
They may be her people, but I will always be her dad.
