As I walked into the primary school, I looked down at my new Mary Jane shoes - I wanted to be anywhere in the world but Fountain Inn Elementary School.

I stood at Mrs. Blackstone’s door. The door suddenly opened to the sing-song voice of Mrs. Blackstone, my new fifth grade teacher. “We’ve been waiting for you!” she said in an unusually high voice.

Over the next few days, Mrs. Blackstone found me a new best friend and helped me join a choir (合唱团). During history lessons, as I didn’t want to speak in front of the class, she would have me stand up to address my classmates. She made me smile and feel much relaxed in the new environment.

One spring afternoon, Mrs. Blackstone asked me to stay after class. “I’d like to speak with you, Amanda.” My mind raced. Had I made a bad grade? Had I hurt someone’s feelings?

“Are you enjoying your new school?” She said.

“I want to tell you something, between you and me, not to be shared with anyone else.” “Okay.” My throat all of a sudden felt very dry.

With her eyebrows (眉毛) raised, she said, “I see something special in you. The way you communicate with others, the kindness you show - I think you have great potential (潜力) to be someone very important.”

I listened carefully to every word. “I’ve been a teacher for over 25 years. I can see it. But you must believe in yourself. That’s very important. Remember that and you’ll go far.”

Her voice was music to my ears that day. I walked out, but looking straight ahead with my head high. My teacher saw something special in me!

Patrick never does homework. “Too boring,” he says. He always plays baseball and basketball after school. His teachers tell him, “Patrick! Do your homework, or you can’t learn anything.” But what can he do? He hates homework.

One day, his cat was playing with a little “doll”. He found it wasn’t a doll at all, but a man of the smallest size. The man called, “Save me! Don’t give me back to that cat. I have magic. I will help you if you save me!”

How lucky he was! Here was the answer to all of his problems. So he said, “If you help me to do my homework until the last day of school, I will get good grades.” The man agreed. He began to do Patrick’s homework. The man didn’t always know what to do and he needed help. “Help me! Help me! ”he said. And Patrick had to help. Day after day, Patrick had to work harder. Finally the last day of school arrived and the man was free to go. As for homework, Patrick didn’t hate doing it any more. Patrick got his A’s. His teachers and classmates were all surprised. Who really helped Patrick?

Just approximately 50 years ago, needing money to support family — my novels weren’t bestsellers — I had the idea of taking the longest train trip imaginable and writing a travel book about it.

The trip would be improvisational — no credit card, no idea where I’d be staying, nor any idea of how long this trip would take. Never had I written a travel book, though I’d read many of them. My favorites were those giving a vivid and detailed description of a difficult and unpleasant experience, with ups and downs. But I hoped my trip wouldn’t be that, despite the fact that it was obviously an adventure.

I set off with one small bag containing clothes, a map of Asia, and some travelers’ cheques, I made it to Mashhad, travelled by bus through Afghanistan and rode the rails again. Sometimes threatened, now and then tired, occasionally laying up with food poisoning, I had a narrow escape — all of these vivid details for my story.

I came across an Indian in Afghanistan who said I should pay a visit to him in Kanpur, and he gave me his address: “I live in Railway Bazaar,” as a consequence of which I had my title early on The Great Railway Bazaar on my return in 1974, appearing the following year to go viral and sell well — and it’s still in print, in many languages. A few years later, an idea flooding into my mind, I took a similar trip, mostly by train, from my home in Boston to Patagonia, and wrote about it in The Old Patagonian Express.

That’s the past. Nothing is the same now. All such trips are unique and unrepeatable. It’s not just that the steam trains of Asia are gone. Much of the peace and order is gone. Who’d risk an Iranian train now or take a bus through Afghanistan? All travel books are out of fashion, but they preserve something of the past that would otherwise be lost.