I recently returned from a nine-day trip to India, a place where history isn’t just measured in years but in dynasties. It was the first formal business trip of my career, an invitation to TMB’s Creative Spark Summit where I met over a hundred teammates in our expanding New Delhi office. Outside of work, it became one of the most rewarding journeys of my life. From the temples to the towers, with a few generously long layovers in Tokyo, this experience reframed my cultural perceptions, stretched my historical imagination, and reminded me why travel never loses its grip on me.
It was eye-opening to realize that personal lineage had limited my imagination of medieval times to the European farmlands, long forgetting that some of the greatest architectural feats in history were rising on the far side of the world.
This trip, like many before, had its lucky breaks; friends and past colleagues who took me off the beaten path or, in the case of Old Delhi, into the thick of it. The sheer contrast between modern sprawl and centuries-old markets, where narrow alleys twist through an overwhelming tapestry of life, was unlike anything I’d ever seen.
Travel has always been a passion of mine—whether island-hopping, horizon chasing, or taking detours that lead further than necessary. Not every trip feels like a milestone; most are just laps between chapters in the marathon of life. But when a journey offers more than just a glimpse of something new, when it lets you see the hills for the valleys between their peaks, that’s when the call of the wild takes hold.
It was my first time Japan Airlines and I was too excited to sleep on the Tokyo flight, plus business class seating gave room for both my work and personal laptops. This would be a trip of many firsts, including a drink order lost in translation which resulted in a Coca-Cola Martini. And not to complain, but the internet should have been complimentary full flight. There is only so much you can do in two hours with a throttled, 30,000ft connection.
After landing at 11 pm, I was unaware (or maybe overlooked) that the airport had sleep capsules, so instead I pulled up a dozen common Japanese phrases on my phone, asked ChatGPT for an overnight itinerary, grabbed a $50 tap card, and hit the rails. Eager to see the busiest intersection on Earth, I arrived at Shibuya Station only to find it… surprisingly calm. I suppose even Tokyo slows down at midnight on a Wednesday. What the omniscient AI failed to tell me was that the trains stop running shortly after midnight, which I only found out from some Brits while already en route. Turns out, I was on a one-way ride deep into the world’s most sprawling metropolis with nothing but an iPhone, a camera, and a smile.
Thankfully, Tokyo is full of sleep cafés, where you can rent a 6’×6’×10′-ish pod for a few hours at a time. I love the game of travel charades—if you like it at home with family, you’re going to love it with strangers in foreign lands.
After a quick nap, I was on the first morning train to… somewhere. As luck had it, a short detour back to the airport would take me to Sensō-ji Temple, the oldest in Tokyo, for what I could only imagine would be an epic sunrise.
Sensō-ji wasn’t perched on a hilltop for a cinematic sunrise like I’d imagined, though, it was nestled deep in the metro sprawl. But I caught a quiet morning ceremony, where a priest rang a massive bell—a fitting cue for my departure. With just enough time to spare, I took the red-ish Asakusa Line back to Haneda Airport, where my belongings waited in a locker. Traveling in and out of there was seamless; I can’t imagine a better place for an extended layover.
The week in New Delhi was remarkable. I recorded plenty of video and will recount my stories better on YouTube with visuals, but there are many aspects that words and pictures cannot capture. The spice of their food. The smells of Old Delhi. An overwhelming volume in Chandni Chowk, whose mere alleyways could put rock concerts to shame. Bartering in Dilli Haat, where yen and dollars stood in for rupees as I picked up a handmade laptop satchel. And the generosity of our hosts, who welcomed us not just with warmth, but an eagerness to share their city, their culture, and their storied legacy.
My only regret from the visit, more a lament for the country itself, is that we arrived during some of the worst pollution of the year. The outer states burn crops after the harvest, skyrocketing New Delhi’s AQI past 400 for half our stay. But this never dampened the spirit of our hosts. It’s something they’ve come to expect each year and were quietly conscious of, aware how stark a contrast it was for us visiting.
It was an honor to finally meet colleagues I’d only known through Teams calls—to share meals, laughter, and stories with people whose world I’d only seen in pixels. Our week was full of improv, guidance, stories, and gauntlets of spice that had me leveling up like a video game. I did reach a “four-pepper” item on the menu by week’s end, and there’s a clear gap in my diet now without these amazing culinary options.
‘India is not for beginners’—I heard this from a few people before going, but one must experience it to truly appreciate the sheer grandeur of the chaos, at least as I encountered it in New Delhi. My early trip research kept circling back to that word: chaos. Even locals spoke of it with a kind of pride, as if it were a badge of honor. I’d never heard ‘chaos’ used as a term of endearment, but there’s undoubtedly an order to it all, especially in the streets. As a compulsive jaywalker, that’s one of the things I miss most: a fluidity of people and automobiles that somehow just works. Nobody drives particularly fast, partly because there’s never enough room to pick up speed, but also because doing so would break the unspoken rhythm of weaving through lanes.
Their traffic is absolutely next level, so much so that I didn’t even realize it was a left-hand system until writing this afterward… just another layer of the chaos.
Throughout the last few years, I’ve felt like I’ve traveled far, but kind of like knowledge—the further you go, the more you realize you haven’t seen. This trip was no different. Every journey requires a decompression period, and I know the comedown will follow, but for now, I can’t wait to go back.
Special thanks to Dee, who got a candid shot which will always remind me of meeting a team in the land of wisdom and spirituality.
India is an adventure waiting to be had, one that stays with you long after you’ve left. If you ever get the chance, take it.
I’ve just returned from a nine-day visit to India, a country whose history isn’t just measured in years but in dynasties. It was the first formal business trip of my career, an invitation to TMB’s Creative Spark Summit where I met over a hundred teammates in our expanding New Delhi office. Outside of work, it became one of the most rewarding journeys of my life. From the temples to the towers, with a few generously long layovers in Tokyo, the experience reframed my cultural perceptions, stretched my historical imagination, and reminded me why travel never loses its grip on me.
This trip, like many before, had its lucky breaks—friends and past colleagues who took me off the beaten path or, in the case of Old Delhi, straight into the thick of it. The sheer contrast between modern sprawl and centuries-old markets, where narrow alleys twist through an overwhelming tapestry of life, was unlike anything I’d experienced. It was eye-opening to realize that personal lineage had unknowingly limited my imagination of medieval times to European farmlands, leaving me oblivious to the fact that, meanwhile, some of the greatest architectural feats in history were being built on the far side of the world.
Travel has always been a passion of mine—whether island-hopping, horizon chasing, or taking detours that lead further than necessary. Not every trip feels like a milestone; most are just laps between chapters in the marathon of life. But when a journey offers more than just a glimpse of something new, when it lets you see its hills for the valleys between their peaks, that’s when the call of the wild takes hold.”
I didn’t sleep on my flight from Honolulu to Tokyo. Business class provided room for two laptops, while a language barrier on Japan Airlines led to a Coca-Cola martini. Game on. I landed at 11 p.m. I was unaware (or just unwilling to consider) that the airport had sleep capsules, I instead pulled up a dozen common Japanese phrases on my phone, asked ChatGPT for an overnight itinerary, grabbed a $50 tap card, and hit the rails. Eager to see the busiest intersection on Earth, I arrived at Shibuya Station only to find it… surprisingly calm. I suppose even Tokyo slows down at midnight on a Wednesday. What the omniscient AI failed to tell me was that the trains stop running shortly after midnight, which I only found out from some Brits while already en route. Turns out, I was on a one-way ride deep into the world’s most sprawling metropolis with nothing but an iPhone, a camera, and a smile.
Thankfully, Tokyo is full of sleep cafés, where you can rent a 6×6×10-ish pod for a few hours at a time. After one sleep cycle, I was back on the first train… somewhere. I love the game of travel charades—if you like it at home with family, you’re going to love it with strangers in foreign lands. As luck had it, a short detour back to the airport would take me to Sensō-ji Temple, the oldest in Tokyo, for what I could only imagine would be an epic sunrise.
Sensō-ji wasn’t perched on a hilltop for a cinematic sunrise like I’d imagined, though, it was nestled deep in the metro sprawl. But I caught a quiet morning ceremony, where a priest rang a massive bell—a fitting cue for my departure. With just enough time to spare, I took the red-ish Asakusa Line back to Haneda Airport, where my belongings waited in a locker. Traveling in and out of there was seamless; I can’t imagine a better place for an extended layover.
The week in New Delhi was remarkable. I recorded plenty of video and will recount my stories better on YouTube with visuals, but there are many aspects that words and pictures cannot capture. The spice of their food. The smells of Old Delhi. An overwhelming volume in Chandni Chowk, whose mere alleyways could put rock concerts to shame. Bartering in Dilli Haat, where yen and dollars stood in for rupees as I picked up a handmade laptop satchel. And the generosity of our hosts, who welcomed us not just with warmth, but an eagerness to share their city, their culture, and their storied legacy.
My only regret from the visit, more a lament for the country itself, is that we arrived during some of the worst pollution of the year. The outer states burn crops after the harvest, skyrocketing New Delhi’s AQI past 400 for half our stay. But this never dampened the spirit of our hosts. It’s something they’ve come to expect each year, and they navigated it with a quiet resilience, aware of how stark a contrast it was for us.
It was an honor to finally meet colleagues I’d only known through Teams calls—to share meals, laughter, and stories with people whose world I’d only seen in pixels. Our week was full of improv, guidance, stories, and gauntlets of spice that had me leveling up like a video game. I did reach a “four-pepper” item on the menu by week’s end, and there’s a clear gap in my diet now without these amazing culinary options.
Throughout the last few years, I’ve felt like I’ve traveled far, but kind of like knowledge—the further you go, the more you realize you haven’t seen. This trip was no different. Every journey requires a decompression period, and I know the comedown will follow, but for now, I can’t wait to go back.
Special thanks to Dee, who got the candid shot that will always remind me of the land of wisdom and spirituality. India is an adventure waiting to be had—if you haven’t been yet, go.
