In that recently posted Club Random chat between Bill Maher and Maureen Dowd, Maher shared an unusual anecdote about visiting Ireland. Unusual for Maher, I mean, as he’s not the emotional-sharing type.

Maher’s jet was approaching Irish soil (presumably Dublin airport), he recalled, and just as as it touched down on the tarmac he melted…something took over and he began to cry. Some atmospheric whatever got to him, something that his body or spirit recognized…a homeland vibe.

My ancestral roots are British and not Irish, but I felt almost the same thing when I visited Dublin in the fall of ’88. Maggie and I and five-month-old Jett flew to Dublin from London, and right away I felt something. One of my first thoughts as we left the Dublin region and drove into the countryside was “I could die here.”

Related: A similar thing happened in London in 1980. For the first time in my life I heard my last name pronounced correctly, or at least in a richer, more tonally satisfying way than I myself had ever pronounced it.

It’s an English name, of course, so no surprise that I experienced my “woke” moment when a British Airways attendant said “Mr. Wells?” He said it with a zesty, just-right emphasis on the “ell” sound. (I tend to use an “euhll” sound.) The British Airways guy had it down…made me feel proud of my heritage.

I haven’t spelled it out in so many words, but the Big Memory-Lane Question is this: try to recall a moment on foreign soil when you immediately and perhaps inexplicably felt at home…at peace…welcomed…relieved.

Because of some sudden wash-over feeling…maybe a person or persons you ran into on a bus or subway or an Uber into town…maybe the way the early-morning air or a curbside food stand smelled…some hard-to-pin-down scent or vibe that seeped into your pores and took you back to a place of ease and familiarity or even serenity.

I’m not talking about hotel-brand comfort (“feels just like checking into a Comfort Inn in Pensacola!”)…some travelers take pleasure in familiarity, I realize, but that’s not what this is…I’m speaking of a feeling that snuck up on you, an air-sniff or a Bill Maher-like (or Bill Murray-ish) nudge of surprise…an out-of-the-blue thing in Guatemala or Scotland or Wagga Wagga (west of Canberra) or the southeastern coast of Spain.