Home. I have been in the military for over 24 years. It is my life. I've traveled around the world - Europe, Asia, Africa, the Middle East, and other areas. But all that travel, to places that many would describe as exotic, has never included the wonderful or popular locations depicted in your travel montage. As I thought about your essay question, my thoughts turned to my wife and family. My chosen profession, service in the U.S. Army, has caused me to be away from home more than I've been there. Having missed so many birthdays, anniversaries, graduations, first dates, first time driving a car, death of a beloved pet, etc., there is no place like home. Home, for me, has been and remains my foundation, my touchstone, and, in many ways, that exotic popular destination I look forward to visiting as often as I can. - Allen Batschelet, Harker Heights, Texas

Blue Pumpkin. It's my favorite café in Siem Reap, Cambodia. It had the most amazing mango smoothie I have ever tasted,­ and as soon as I sat down, a waiter materialized with a cool, white, peppermint-scented­ facecloth. In a country so humid that a minute outside causes even your eyeballs to sweat and the dust from the street to stick to your skin in a damp red film, the small pleasures at Blue Pumpkin were a welcome respite. I was in Siem Reap for a brief pilgrimage to Angkor Wat, an ancient Khmer temple complex considered one of the most intriguing and beautiful sets of ruins in the world. But even pilgrims must eat, so my daily routine included an early breakfast at Blue Pumpkin. On my final morning in Cambodia, as I sucked down my smoothie, a very young man swathed in bright saffron robes appeared at the café's entrance and stood silently, head bowed. A slender teenage waitress sprang off her stool, returning a minute later with a bulging grocery bag of food. She placed it in his hands. Without a word, she kneeled, bowing her head to the young monk's feet. He blessed her and then turned and walked quietly down the street. The waitress rose and strode quickly back to the kitchen. Glass frozen in midair, straw poised, I caught myself staring and looked down, but my mind was buzzing. Did the monk come every day? Where did he go next? Was this scene repeating itself in cafés all over town? Compared with the shooing away of the steady trickle of beggars at the door, the respect - not to mention the food - given to the monk stood out. When I looked up again, the noisy bustle of the street had consumed the silent void where monk and waitress had been, and the moment was gone. The bright colors of that scene, the monk in orange, the waitress in black and white, the food, the silence, the solemnity, the rote familiarity with which they played their parts - I still think about them. I have since read and learned more about the importance of Buddhism and Buddhist monks in Southeast Asia. The scene at Blue Pumpkin was a sliver of tradition in the middle of a country - in the middle of a continent - in flux. … But that one moment in Blue Pumpkin was timeless and beautiful, and I would give anything to go back. - Jane Lindholm, West Hollywood, California