In 2002, just before coming to England to do my MBA at Oxford, I burned up three and a half months by taking the most extraordinary journey I may ever take.

And writing about it.

From internet cafes in China and Cambodia, to a shipboard laptop on a Cook Islands schooner, I committed my notes and stories and observations to paper. At the time (and for all I know, still) Yahoo! had a strict cap on the number of recipients an email could have. And so, from March to June of that fair year, the most important 100 people in my life at that time received about a dozen “dispatches” — this is what I called them, and each was headed that way: “Dispatch from XYZ”; for some reason, I was assiduous about headlining them thus, but they’ve all been rechristened more interestingly now, for the retelling.

Anyway, at the end of the trip, I compiled the dispatches, along with The Wall Street Journal article I’d written in New Zealand about some Burmese comedians in Mandalay, into a single PDF:

E-mail dispatches by Jeremy Hildreth
To his friends, relatives, and colleagues
From several locales of Asia and the South Pacific
During the author’s travels through those regions
In the first half of the year 2002
Containing descriptions, impressions and reflections
Of dubious import and interest
But collected here
For your amusement
As originally composed
Typos and all.

In that form, the dispatches have been languishing on my hard drive ever since, for I then got caught up in writing a book proposal about Pukapuka (one of my stops on the journey), trying hard to get an article about the trip published in The Atlantic Monthly (to impress a girl I once met on Nantucket, if you must know), living the Oxford life, and then, somewhat later, becoming a branding consultant and place brand expert.

Which brings us up to date, then.

Now, on their 8th anniversary (if Spinal Tap released a 17th anniversary edition, I can have an 8th), I’ve decided to begin republishing the dispatches on my web site to give them the airing and wide readership they sort of, somewhat, in some places deserve.

Well, let me clarify: I like to act like the writing’s mediocre, but in fact I’m extremely fond of this sub-body of work of mine. It’s fluid, fresh-eyed and from the hip — maybe more so than anything I’ve mustered since — and it got better as the trip wore on. Kurt Loder of MTV News, one of the lucky 100 who got the dispatches in real time, was kind enough to declare: “Whoa. Think you may be singlehandedly extending the Golden Age of travel writing.” (Kurt, if you’re reading this, I’m still grateful for that remark. And if you don’t believe you said it, I can show you the e-mail.)

To my eye today, this is the travel writing of a talented, exuberant beginner. Like the splendid debut album of band with more and better in store, it has unique and unrepeatable charms. It’s cliche to say it, but I really do sincerely hope you enjoy reading these postcards from the East half as much as I enjoyed writing them. (And thanks, Mom.)

The original dispatches were image-less ASCII text emails; I had to paint scenes using my words alone, which was a fine challenge, a superb exercise with some pleasing results (the description of the jetty on the Irrawaddy at dusk, or the recounting of the Phnom Penh prison tour — there are some stellar turns of phrase within). But on the trip, I also took some of the best photographs I’ve ever taken, all shot with an Olympus 35mm “ZLR” loaded for bear (or temple monkey) with Kodak Gold 200; I used up something like 30 rolls, and had them processed by a phenomenal boutique lab in Providence, Rhode Island who printed them on matte paper with white borders…just glorious. This time around — call it a brand refresh — I’ve put in a few photos.

Oh, one last thing: Before I left on the trip, I read voraciously (a lot of Paul Theroux and Somerset Maugham — that sort of thing). One book I remember was Justin Wintle’s 1988 travelogue, “Heat Treatment: The Oriental adventures of an amorous hypochondriac.” The book was okay, but the title was great, and it inspired me (and still makes me chuckle).

Back then, however, I had no inkling of the amorous potentials of travel and I was certainly no hypochondriac. Indeed, I knew nothing of the world, or how to take it in, from direct experience. I was 26. My passport was only two years old. I’d been to about four countries in my life.

But I had time. And the youthful me sensed — and the older me knows it for sure — that when you have time, it’s time to hit the road.

And in those dispatches — these dispatches, I should say, which you are about to read, dusted off and enlivened with photographs — mark the beginning of a vital personal journey as a professional and as a human being. They show me tasting the world, and engaged in the process of getting to know places, for the first time in my life. They show me, I hope, becoming both more myself and more worldly.

Indeed, these dispatches, and the storybook-worthy odyssey that spawned them, contain many of the seeds of my current life. And I treasure them for that.

1. In Hong Kong, a shampoo Jean Valjean
2. Macau confidential: “Happy! Happy! Happy! Haw! Haw! Haw!”
3. My first encounter with Communist China: And I’d thought Wal-Marts in America were cheap!
4. Outskirts of Bangkok: The monk, the BMW and the Death Railway
5. Burmese days: The road to Mandalay is paved by 8-year olds
6. Exploring L’Indochine: The Seven Habits of Highly Effective Tomb Raiders
7. Singapore: One oppressively nice place
8. Sojourn in Sydney: Surf’s up! Wombats ho!
9. Van Dieman’s Land: The Alcatraz of Empire
10. The Cook Islands, where life imitates Gauguin
11. The South Seas by cargo ship: Have corpse, will travel
12. Suwarrow Atoll: “The only place in the world where there are no women”
13. The gentle giants of Manihiki’s pearl-crossed lagoon
14. The summing up: Around half the world in 88 days