I'm surprised to find myself here, in Bangkok, at the end of three months on this strange and steamy continent. The Asia leg of our trip loomed so big and scary for so long that I can hardly believe it is actually over.

I remember my apprehension in early October as we flew into Beijing. I was asking myself all those questions you always ask yourself before any difficult task. "Why am I doing this? What have I gotten myself into?" At that time, my answer probably would have been something along the lines of "appreciating the history" or "learning about new cultures," but I never honestly expected "fun" and "easy" and "enjoyment" would enter the picture.

Asia threw us a lot of surprises along the way, but the biggest surprise of all was that we actually liked it! I mean, we didn't just appreciate, we actually enjoyed it!

As I re-read some of my dispatches, I worry that they might be a bit mis-leading. It is so much easier to write about the discomforts and annoyances than to write about the easy stuff. After all, "Another good meal, train left on time" makes for a pretty boring read. But in fact most of our time here has been good meals and on-time trains.

It is frustrating to write this, because I can't quite put my finger on what it is about Asia that we find so enticing. After all, there is plenty here to drive a person crazy. The bad roads, the bad toilets, the loud people, loud animals, loud traffic. But that's all small stuff, and they whithered away under the constant delights that popped up every day we spent here.

I think -- though it is easy to say this now, knowing I'm leaving tomorrow -- that some of the things I'm going to miss most are the same things that drove me crazy early on. Like crossing the street in Vietnam, where you simply step into the chaotic madness of oncoming motorbikes and then walk in a steady slow pace so they can stear around you. Isn't that more fun than waiting like a robot for the green "walk" to appear?

Or never knowing quite what you have ordered for dinner and when it is going to arrive. It could be 5 minutes and come on a sizzling platter with rice, or be 45 minutes and be a soup. Hard to predict, despite the apparant straight-forwardness of the menu. It's Russian Roulette, but always with a happy ending.

Even bartering, something that in the States is intricately tied to car shopping and is a word just one train stop short of a swear word, is kind of fun. It's a game, a little one-act play to be performed before any sidewalk transaction. I've learned to do it with a smile, and that smile is always returned by the other party as we play out our parts.

Part of me is going to miss being woken up at 4:30 by roosters, having to sit at the back of the crowded dusty bus, not knowing whether that's pork or chicken or a mushroom or something else. I'm going to miss hearing "no problem" when it's perfectly clear to every westerner on board that, yes, there is in fact a very big problem.

I'm going to miss the crowded sidewalks and streets where life takes place here. I'm going to miss the kids. The culture clashes. The lazy evenings outside the guesthouse talking to the owner and meeting his Grandma.

This pitiful list of things, what Asia means to me, doesn't do it justice. It's a few of the ingredients, but I know I've left out the essential spices and the secret sauce.

Maybe part of the answer lies in this fact: It surprised us. It surprised us every day, again and again, and just when we thought we had figured it out, it surprised us all over again.

And maybe part of the answer lies in this passage from The House of Mirth. Wharton is describing a woman falling in love, but I think it also describes the excitement of travelling to a strange and unfamliar (and sometimes scary) place:

There were in her at the moment two beings, one drawing deep breaths of freedom and exhilaration, the other gasping for air in a little black prison house of fears. But gradually the captive's gasps grew fainter, or the other paid less heed to them: the horizon expanded, the air grew stronger, and the free spirit quivered for flight.