There were smiling children all the way. Clearly they knew at what time the train passed their homes and they made it their business to stand along the railway, wave to complete strangers and cheer them up as they rushed towards Penang. Often whole families stood outside their homes and waved and smiled as if those on the trains were their favorite relatives. These are the simple village people of Malaysia. I was moved.

I had always traveled to Malaysia by plane or car, so this was the first time I was on a train. I did not particularly (特别) relish the long train journey and had bought along a dozen magazines to read and reread. I looked about the train. There was not one familiar (熟悉的) face. I sighed and sat down to read my Economics.

It was not long before the train was across the Causeway and in Malaysia. Johor Bahru was just another city like Singapore, so I was tired of looking at the crowds of people as they hurried past. As we went beyond the city, I watched the straight rows of rubber trees and miles and miles of green. Then the first village came into sight. Immediately I came alive; I decided to wave back.

From then on my journey became interesting. I threw my magazines into the waste basket and decided to join in Malaysian life. Then everything came alive. The mountains seemed to speak to me. Even the trees were smiling. I stared at everything as if I was looking at it for the first time.

The day passed fast and I even forgot to have my lunch until I felt hungry. I looked at my watch and was surprised that it was 3: 00 pm. Soon the train pulled up at Butterworth. I looked at the people all around me. They all looked beautiful. When my uncle arrived with a smile, I threw my arms around him to give him a warm hug. I had never done this before. He seemed surprised and then his weather-beaten face warmed up with a huge smile. We walked arm in arm to his car.

I looked forward to the return journey.

I’ve been putting my passport to good use lately. I use it as a coaster and to level unsteady table legs. It makes an excellent cat toy.

Welcome to the pandemic (疫情) of disappointments. Canceled trips or ones never planned in case they would be canceled. Family reunions, study-abroad years, lazy beach vacations. Poof. Gone. Ruined by a tiny virus, the list of countries where our passports are not welcome is long.

It is not natural for us to be this sedentary (定居的). Travel is in our genes. For most of the time our species has existed, we've lived as nomadic (游牧的) hunter-gatherers. But what if we can't move? What's a traveler to do? There are ways to answer that question. "Despair," though, is not one of them.

We are an adaptive species. We can tolerate brief periods of forced sedentariness. We pass the days glancing through old travel journals and Instagram posts. We gaze at souvenirs. All this helps. For a while. Then, what hope do we have?

I think hope lies in the very nature of travel. Travel involves wishful thinking. It demands a leap of faith, and of imagination, to board a plane for some faraway, land. Travel is one of the few activities we engage in not knowing the outcome and are drunk in that uncertainty. Nothing is more forgettable than the trip that goes exactly as planned.

That's one reason why I have faith in travel's future. In fact, I'd argue travel is an essential activity. It's not essential the way hospitals and grocery stores are essential. Travel is essential the way books and hugs are essential. Food for the soul. Right now, we're between courses, enjoying where we've been, expecting where we'll go. Maybe it's Zanzibar and maybe it's the campground down the road that you've always wanted to visit.