After surviving a seven-second spinout on the frozen Tibetan Plateau, Paul Theroux, one of our generation's most venerated travel writers, wrote, "There is something about the very fact of survival that produces a greater vitality" in Riding the Iron Rooster, an epic train journey through China.

Even a moment's danger is enough to create a heightened sense of appreciation for living. I suppose that's why there is a great thrill in rollercoasters, cliff jumping and other seemingly stupid things.

Three years ago, after studying in Italy, I traveled to one of Europe's extreme outdoor sports capitals - Interlaken, Switzerland. Clear blue skies lifted floating white clouds over the greenest mountains I have ever seen. It was hardly a question why so many visitors flocked to this pristine location to jump out of planes and dive off of waterfalls.

From the many possibilities Interlaken provided, I chose to bungee jump from a gondola over Lake Stockhorn. As the cherry red metal box inched its way over the blue green water, the 12 people on board nervously chattered.

One by one, we were strapped in by our ankles and placed next to the open door. "Hold onto the rails," said the guide. My hands grasped the metal made cold by the altitude as shivers ran up my forearms and through my back.

As I peered over the edge I heard the group begin to chant. "5...4...3..." I looked down. "2..." Shit. "1..."

The wind blew past my face and any attempt to scream was stifled by lack of air. I was hurtling toward the lake, but it was oddly peaceful. After the initial drop, a sudden weightlessness took over and as my smell, hearing and touch dulled, my sight sharpened on the vivid colors of the mountains surrounding me.

It was a moment of both fear and adrenaline, but nothing compared to the sense of impending doom I would feel when I told my Mom what I had done.