
1928 — Guam; Photographed by L. Ron Hubbard
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His Asian photographs were purchased by the international photography house, Underwood & Underwood, and by National Geographic.
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And everywhere he went, there was one question uppermost in his mind: “Why?” Why so much human suffering and misery? Why was man, with all his ancient wisdom and knowledge accumulated in learned texts and temples, unable to solve such basic problems as war, insanity and unhappiness?
In pursuing the answer to these questions, by the age of nineteen, long before the advent of commercial airplane or jet transportation, he had travelled more than a quarter of a million miles, including voyages not only to China but also Japan, Guam, the Philippines and other points in the Orient. In a very real sense, the world itself was his classroom, and he studied in it voraciously, recording what he saw and learned in his ever-present diaries, which he carefully preserved for future reference.
Everywhere he went, he also took the time to help and teach others. On a remote Pacific island, for example, he proved to the terrified natives that the groans of a ghost in a supposedly haunted cave were nothing more than the rushing of underground water.

Photographed by L. Ron Hubbard
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At age 17, he captured seven turns of the Great Wall of China in a rare photograph (below) he shot near Nan-k’ou Pass, west of Beijing.
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In the South Pacific islands, Ron continued his search by venturing deep into the jungles of Guam where he located an ancient Polynesian burial ground, a place steeped in the tradition of heroic warriors and kings. Though his native friends were fearful for him, he explored the sacred area — his initiative drawn from an unquenchable desire to know more.
These sojourns in Asia and the Pacific islands had a profound effect, giving Ron a subjective understanding of Eastern philosophy.
Ron at the Forbidden City (Beijing, 1928) before returning to Washington to continue his formal education.
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Yet for all the wonders of these lands and all his respect for those whom he encountered, he still saw much that concerned him: Chinese beggars willing themselves to die above open graves in Beijing, children who wore less than rags, widespread ignorance and despair. And in the end, he came to the inescapable conclusion that despite the wisdom of its ancient texts, the East did not have the answers to the miseries of the human condition. This remained evident in the degradation and sorrow of its people.