You weren't there and I'm not you

I ran into a friend-of-a-friend at the climbing gym last week; we discussed a possible climbing trip. And, at this point, our only path of communication (or so I thought) was through my flickr account. So, the other night I headed over to the site - it had been over a month since my last visit - and, while there, started looking through photos from my sabbatical time this past summer.

I click though 20 pictures, then 30 to 50 and more; I finally just look at the overview thumbnails of each of the main sets (BOSS Field Course J-65, Russian Massive, Traveling Kyrgyzstan) and choose several favorites (or forgotten memories) to meditate on. And while I always start the procedure with a smile - at least, one internal - it always ends with butterflies in my stomach and maybe some misty eyes. What's going on here?

And here you thought - if you've heard me tell some stories from those places en vivo - that maybe any glassy eyes (mine!) was just the beer leaking through, but I can assure you that that unflattering look comes from something much deeper (and natural), no chemicals needed. Still, the feelings - good and bad - are not always something I can tap into off-the-cuff; that is, I'm very likely to give you a one or two line summary if you ask me "how was the trip?". But if we get to talking, if we have the time to let me ramble a bit (and you have the patience), stories will flow.. and - what the hey - a good drink helps them to do so. I will admit, however, that they may not all be entertaining, per se, or at least in a given retelling, but I guess that's the case with anyone's travelogues; the proper words - or words at all - are hard for me to come by sometimes. I mean, the phrasing and framework of the scene I'd like to recreate doesn't always have to be perfect for you to get the gist, but sometimes it feels that way - or, rather, I'd like you to find yourself with more than a fuzzy understanding of what I'm talking about.. which leads me to the real question(s) of the day:

How can you know what I'm talking about at all; how can we share the experience (if you weren't there, and I'm not you)?

In any case, I keep *meaning* to post some random stories from Utah or Russia or Kyrgyzstan.. just some funny slice-of-life sorts of things (ex. rocking shitty camping gear in Kyrgyzstan), if not some more heavy-hitting material (ex. like my first time slaughtering an animal). But, again, tonight's not the night; the to-do list perseveres unscathed (and mocking its owner, over and over).