When I was a kid, I was painfully shy. Hide-under-the-table, refuse-to-talk-even-to-family shy. Sometime around high school, a switch flipped. I can’t tell you the exact cause, but more than anything I think I just decided it was boring. I didn’t want to find adventure and connection only in the pages of books, and talking to my pet rats was not quite enough (even though they did respond to their names and were great popcorn-eating-companions for movie nights).

I don’t think anyone I meet nowadays would describe me as quiet. I make documentaries and travel solo and pretty much talk to people for a living. Often, though, I still feel that little internal part of myself digging my heels in, resistant to put myself out there.

This past summer, working onboard the Orion in Southeast Asia, I found the perfect antidote for any lingering shyness.

Normally, work takes me to remote, untouched areas populated mostly by penguins or seals. This time, however, we were landing on islands filled with rich culture and the warmest, most welcoming people. Often our ship was greeted with dockside performances packed with music and dancing (and lots of gamelan). Loving what I was hearing, I started asking around for local music recommendations. It led to all kinds of fun new discoveries and conversations. Each time, I would take a photo so I could remember not just the song, but the person and memory to go along with it.

It started as an easy icebreaker and way to find new music, and has turned into one of my absolutely favorite ways to remember my travels.

Contained within my travel mixtapes are conversations ranging from classic rock to specialized local instruments; heartbreak to Billie Eilish.

Dino, a gentleman busking in Melaka, decided to play me his favorite song rather than just tell me. He says he normally only sings Western songs in English for the tourists, but will do this one just for me. My own little private concert is so beautiful I almost cry.

Naura is an 11-year-old Indonesian girl who tells me, “Oh, I have the best song in the world for you. You’re going to love it,” and proceeds to show me quite possibly the worst song I have ever heard in my life. It’s still a cherished part of my playlist (but listen at your own risk).

In Langkawi, Diana invites me to join her birthday party. The cake is delicious, and so is her recommendation of a Joan-Jett-reminiscent Malaysian rockstar.

At a certain point, I get comfortable enough talking to complete strangers that, running behind on an exploratory hike in Bukit Lawang and worried about missing the bus back to the ship, I approach a group of people barbecuing in the forest and ask if one can give me a ride back to town on their motorbike. Harri obliges, and we have a wonderful conversation on the bumpy ride back to the lodge.

I am starting this blog in part to share with you the fabulous music and stories I collect, but mostly to keep myself asking the question:

"What's your favorite song?" / "Apu lagu favoritmu?"