In my formative years, I vividly recall watching National Treasure, and deciding, with complete sincerity, that my destiny in life was to become like Nicholas Cage. When I was younger, what I loved beyond all else were stories of secret codes and underground catacombs. Playing Uncharted as a youth definitely didn’t help my obsession. To this day, my skills of finding conveniently placed stone levers and deciphering ancient texts remain woefully underutilized.

For years, I’d always imagined myself as some brave adventurer with lofty ambitions of discovering a hidden treasure. Sadly, growing up meant facing the grim reality that is the tragic lack of treasure maps and the slightly impractical nature of my dreams. I was still drawn to the study of history, though the thrill of discovery took on a more practical form. I joined a crowdsourced initiative to digitally transcribe historical documents. Not exactly Indiana Jones, but to me, definitely still rewarding.

One of the first texts I transcribed was a set of travel logs by a man wandering in distant lands. As I worked through the text, I could almost picture myself walking alongside him marveling at all the cathedrals and grand vistas of deciduous trees. It struck me then that perhaps my childhood instincts weren’t entirely wrong. Maybe being Nicholas Cage was a perfectly plausible goal to aspire to. After all, I’d spent a few hours with a travel log and it felt like I’d crossed continents without ever leaving my desk.

History, as it turns out, can be thrilling in its own way. Tracking some long dead figure’s journey is its own kind of adventure: there’s the occasional surprise, sudden revelations, and of course, the triumph of finally deciphering their unintelligible cursive. Sure, I may not be dodging gigantic rolling boulders or finding secret passageways (yet), but it’s close enough for me.