It’s this – coming back to the hostel after a long, tiring, but somehow energizing and an unmistakably satisfying day of exploring a foreign land with friends who were just strangers to me a day ago. It’s the accomplishment of climbing up a mountain for the second consecutive day and understanding the meaning of the word “breathtaking”. It’s that strange questioning of how a handful of people’s lives managed to converge at a common intersection in time and place to create such a memorable day. It’s knowing that moments like these, though no longer novel to someone who is no longer a novice traveller, are still exciting, still continue to feed the fire residing in the depths of my soul, still manage to make me say “wow” or conversely leave me speechless. Moments like these are my most cherished souvenirs; they’re moments I treasure and give more value to than money or gold…