I stepped out of my flip-flops, pulled back the canvas door, and stepped inside the dimly lit tent pitched beside the ocean. The oil lamp at the center of the floor cast an amber glow on the faces of the Acehnese men sitting in a circle around it. We gathered to hear a twenty-five year old man play his guitar and sing a song he’d written in memory of his seven family members who were killed by the wave. The scent of ocean water and freshly-lit cigarettes filled the small tent he now calls home. Beside the tent stands a tsunami-ravaged cement structure where his family used to live. The staircase leading to the second level now leads to the roof. Indonesian words spray painted across the wall let the community know the owner of the property is still alive. We sat in the tent for almost an hour trading songs as the subtle drone of ocean waves offset the music.

One month ago, I remember sitting at the kitchen table at home in Rhode Island watching Channel 10 announce the one-year anniversary of the tsunami thinking, It’s only been a year? I guess the more time passes without hearing about something, the further away it becomes. When I was given an assignment to write about relief efforts in Indonesia, I expected to find cities rebuilt and lives approaching a state of normalcy. It only took a twenty-minute drive from the airport to the coast for me to realize life in Indonesia is far from normal. In fact, I would venture to guess that few who have not seen Indonesian lives in the wake of this tragedy will ever understand the magnitude of what happened on Dec. 26, 2004.

In preparing for this coverage, I remember watching a Discovery Channel special on the tsunami. When I saw the footage of ravaged homes and desolate beaches, I imagined those areas transformed today, but as I walked the streets of those coastal towns just a few days ago, I realized very little had changed. Yes, homes have been built and people are beginning to move into permanent housing, but I saw so many still living in tents. I sat and listened as people told me stories of how they lost loved ones, homes, businesses, and livelihoods in the wake of the tsunami. I heard stories of corruption, disillusionment and grief.

At Christmas, a good friend of mine gave me a journal with a quote inscribed on the back. It said, “When you travel, you learn as much about yourself as you do the world.” On several occasions, I’ve found this to be true. After being immersed in the sights, sounds, and smells of the tsunami-desolated areas of Indonesia, I realized countless lives will never be the same, and on a significantly smaller scale, neither will mine.

When I set foot on the marble floor entryway of my personal suite last night, I had no idea what to expect. I could tell the room was big, but really, since I hadn’t yet figured out how to turn the lights on, all I saw was darkness. I fumbled through the room trying every lamp, but all were conveniently without switches. I tried the flat-panel, plastic switches on the wall; nothing. And that’s when I saw them: two blinking red lights in a small key-holder on the wall, with the words “key card insert here” printed just below. It only took me another couple tries to figure out that you’re actually supposed to leave your key in the holder the whole time you’re in the room to gain access to all the light switches. Once in bed, I could turn all the lights in the room on and off, and adjust the temperature and fan speed with the click of a button on my alarm clock. I fell asleep last night on what I can only assume were Egyptian cotton sheets, in a beautiful room on the 17th floor of the Meritus Mandarin Hotel. After more than 20 hours in the air, it was refreshing to say the least. As I type, I’m sitting in a waffled cotton robe with the words “Meritus Mandarin Singapore” embroidered in gold across the pocket, glancing through a “Discover Singapore” magazine. But enough about the room, I think I’m going to attempt to actually “discover Singapore” before I’ll be forced to check out at noon.

Life has gotten kind of hectic since my last update. I've been working on a few different projects/stories at work, but the last few days have been more like a roller coaster than anything else. I finally booked my flight at 4:58pm on Friday, catching the travel agent just before she left her office for the weekend. Unfortunately, even though I was able to book a flight, I was unable to get a visa since a letter of invitation from the government is required to travel to the part of the world I’ll be visiting. I’ve been told this may not be a problem, and we should be able to get the necessary visas at the airport when we arrive…let’s hope so.

I spent the past two or three days working out lodging for my trip, which up until that point had been up in the air. I did get a break in the stress of working everything out for this trip on Friday night when I left the office and headed to Lynchburg for the weekend. I spent the whole time with close friends and family there. It was both relaxing and refreshing.

Well, the smallest leg of my journey is already complete. I stepped into a cab exactly six o’clock this morning and headed for Richmond International, where my flight was delayed an hour, so now I’m sitting in the airport just killing time. Hopefully, after I step into a cab on the other side of the world at about midnight Thursday, I’ll be able to update how the 22-hour non-stop flight went.

It’s official!! Well almost official. Ok, so I don’t actually have a plane ticket yet, but at least I have a rough itinerary for my Pac Rim trip, which is more than I could say this morning. Plus, I overnighted my visa applications so at least I should be able to get in country once I get off the plane (definitely a step in the right direction).

For almost a week now I’ve been living out of a hotel and working in Richmond, which, I've come to realize, has its ups and downs. As much as I enjoy having some quality alone time, I’m definitely craving some hang out time, which is kind of hard to come by when you’re living out of a suitcase and know very few people in a relatively unfamiliar city. But thankfully, my sister and brother-in-law were gracious enough to return from their Caribbean cruise in time for me to meet up with them in Virginia for the weekend.

But aside from the low key evenings, work has been pretty fast-paced. I’ve gone from not knowing what exactly I was supposed to be doing on day one, to finding myself so busy I could barely tear myself away from the computer for lunch today. I've been working on a few different projects, while also trying to figure out my travel arrangements for this next coverage and get some things squared away for the move at the end of the month.

In making the initial move to Richmond last weekend, I was listening to the radio on the drive down, and somewhere between Rhode Island and Virginia, this one radio personality had something profound to say. I don't know who this guy was, or even where he was, but he said something I considered noteworthy. With it being a new year, he was talking about how people always say the older you get the faster time goes by, to which I think most would agree. But then he said that when he watches his son, he notices that this little boy lives simply for the moment that he's in. Children aren't generally worried about the past or future, they're just enthralled with the moment. He went on to say that maybe if we focused more on the moments and really appreciated each one for what it's worth, maybe time wouldn't escape us so quickly. Just a thought for the new year...and for the remainder of my evening in the hotel I currently call home.