Lisa Niver's Blog: We Said Go Travel, page 422

Puerto Rico: The Island of Relaxation

The chill and moisturized sea breeze brushing through your face, giving you tingly sensations all throughout your body, the splashing of waves crashing against the soft moist sand, giving a wooshing sound as they retreat back into the ocean. The sound of little kids running around and laughing; all while you sit in comfort of your yellow and orange striped beach chair. This alone makes a person feel at peace, with tomorrow’s problems nowhere in sight. San Juan, Puerto Rico brings in over a million tourists a day because of this amazing atmosphere it has to offer. This alone inspires people to spend countless hours reading novels, writing, and other activities that would be difficult to fulfill anywhere else.

Throughout my life I have always wondered what it was like to live in a stress free environment, being that I come from a broken home and have faced many difficult situations in my life. Whenever I think of such a place I imagine myself away from the world. Not in a depressed manor, but in a way that I can be in a controlled environment that allows me to think clearly without having to fight off the thousands of thoughts running around in my head. In life I realized that such places are hard to come by, and thought that in order to discover such an unimaginable place I should try finding the answer to my problems the way everybody else does: Yes, that meant searching on “Google” to find my solution. Though this usually only works out for people that are trying to find answers on schoolwork, I figured I might as well give it a shot. After typing in “ ways to find piece of mind” in the search engine I came across a link that displayed “Relaxed Vacations”. After clicking the link, I was brought to a virtual tour of San Juan Puerto Rico. At first, the tour seemed a little misleading as it showed people drinking and partying but as the video went on it geared toward a more calm and romantic time displaying a couple sitting on straw beach. Though I didn’t have such a beautiful significant other as the male in the video had, let alone any “other” in my life at the time, it interested me to see such a calm atmosphere in the video. As my curiosity took the best of me I ended up purchasing a ticket to travel to San Juan for three days. I mean life is all about risks right?

With my body full of nervousness, like the kind you get when it’s your turn to give a speech in college, I boarded the plane. After 3 hours of practicing my Spanish through “Rosetta Stone” I was finally at my destination. As soon as I walked off the plane I was confronted by a dark skin man who seemed to live up to the expectations of the video that involved drinking, as his beer belly supported this claim. However, it came to my surprise that I didn’t need the help of my Rosetta Stone software, as the cab driver spoke very good English. After 10 minutes of driving in a cab I reached my hotel. The astonishing view I had of the ocean was unimaginable. As I paid the cab driver I couldn’t help but walk towards the beach before checking in. the crystal blue water splashing against the shore, the bright yellow sun in the sky that reminded me of the “Sunny D” commercials covered the entire beach with light. After an hour of starring at such a spectacular view I decided to check into my room and begin my three-day journey.

In order to make a long story short, my three-day journey consisted of nothing but sitting on the beach and reading “The Wolf of Wall Street”. I sat on the beach for over 6 hours a day not even noticing the time passing by, or the color of my skin turning into the same shade of the cab driver. However, not a day goes by that I don’t think of the magnificent splashing sound of the waves hitting one another or the soft beige sand covering my feet. My whole life I have tried to find such a place that would provide comforting and relaxed environment that San Juan Puerto Rico had to offer. Since the day I left San Juan, Puerto Rico, I find myself always completing my college course work at a beach. Though I have yet to find a beach as soothing and relaxing as San Juan’s, I find that working in such environments inspire you to read, write, and can make you think more clearly. With that said, I would say San Juan, Puerto Rico is an island full of inspiration and relaxation.

About the author: My name is Victor Berrios, I’m currently a freshmen at the University of Central Florida (UCF). I’m majoring in Hospitality management and minoring in Business. I have a great interest in traveling the world one day along with some other personal goals that I have.

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I left My Heart in The Philippines

I left My Heart in The Philippines

When I was in Barcelona last November, I got a newsletter from All Hands Volunteers, the NGO I always want to join since 2 years ago. From the newsletter, I got info that they opened the project in Philippines to help the people who suffered from the Haiyan Typhoon at Nov 8 2013. So, I signed up for the project and got accepted to join them in Leyte Island, near Cebu.

Once I arrived in Ormoc, Kattie, the volunteer coordinator, gave us a brief introduction about the base, the works and all the rules we need to follow. I started to work the next day with a group. We deconstructed the house so the owner can build new house. To be honest, that was my first time using curl bar, sledge hammer, safety goggles and working gloves. We start to work at 7.30 am and finish at 4.30 pm (with lunch break for about 1 hour). Beside deconstruct the houses, we also help the community cleaning the schools, chapels or churches, canals (due to Dengue fever prevention) and also the hospitals. My favorite one was cleaning the hospital. They ran out of the rooms for the children so they had to put the patients on the tents. I couldn’t imagine this; you suffered from the typhoon and also had to stay on the tents. We also saw lots of patients were sleeping on the hallway. We worked for about 3 days at the hospital and it was really great to see the huge difference. No more tents and people sleep on the hallway.

Volunteering taught me few things. For example: I learn how to be grateful for every single things I have. I was amazed by how grateful and strong are the Philippinos. They still can smile and help us to clean their houses. I will never forget their eyes and smiles! We helped to clean the house and workshop of the young man. After we finished cleaning, he said that it was his New Year’s gift. He can continue his life although he has to start from zero. I almost cried at that time. The local kids never failed to amaze us also. They love our tools like wheel barrows, hammers and shovels. They help us a lot! It was hard for me to tell them that we won’t come to their place again after we finished the job. How can you said NO to kids when they ask you: “Will you come again?”

Beside the local people, my fellow volunteers amazed me also. They flew from all over the world just to help. Hats off also to the ladies, our works were tough and they still can smile! Not to mention that we live with very basic facilities, no running water, generator electricity, portioned food and no bed (you have to bring your own mattress). So if you ask me which place I want to visit…I can easily answer: I want to be in Ormoc with my volunteer friends and help the local people there. For me, it was so hard to leave the base..leave my good friends and the smiley local people. But I definitely will be back

About The Author: Sysilia Tanhati is an Indonesian girl who loves to travel and meet new people. I left my 8-5 job last September 2013 and did the Camino de Santiago, my long overdue dreams. I do my bag project, which I always wanted to do also, and go where ever I want to.

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Inspired by the Luck of the Irish in Ireland

Whenever and wherever I travel, I’m inspired not only by the places I visit but by the people I meet along the way. As our family historian, I love spending time in the British Isles doing genealogy research. They’re a great place for those who may be hesitant to visit a “foreign” country. After all, they speak the same language (sort of), eat the same foods (sort of), and, for most of us, their culture isn’t too “foreign”. We can forgive them for driving on the wrong side of the road.

A couple of years ago, two girlfriends and I headed to Ireland. Week one was spent on a mini-bus tour that hit all of the highlights of both Northern Ireland and the Republic. After six nights of bunking in hostels, sharing bathrooms, travelling, schlepping luggage and partying with 24 young people, the three of us “more mature” ladies were ready for the three bedroom/four bath stone cottage we had rented for week two. County Roscommon was chosen because my maternal great great grandmother had been born in the area. I had mentioned this six months earlier when I booked the cottage. The owner asked for the name of my ancestor since they knew all the families in the area. After giving her the information, I went merrily on my way with my vacation planning. I wasn’t relying on the luck of the Irish to find anything. My goal was to simply get a feel for the land and the area where my ancestors had been born.

We arrived at our cottage retreat on a Friday afternoon. As our landlady was leaving, she pointed to some papers on the kitchen table and said I might find them of interest. I not only found them of interest, I was overwhelmed by the information they contained. A local family historian had searched the parish and census records for my ancestors and all the historical data was printed out for me. But the final piece of info was the best – “John is related to your family and he would be pleased to meet you and assist in any way with your search for roots.” His phone number was included but since I didn’t have a mobile, as they call it in Ireland, I would have to wait until I went to town to make that call.

After a Saturday morning of shopping and lunch in Sligo, we returned to find a car in the laneway. Our landlady’s husband, Paddy got out and introduced himself and said to me, “hop in and we’ll go find the Barry farm.” I didn’t have to be asked twice.

Now, this is something I never would have done back home in Canada – gotten into a vehicle with someone I’d just met to go traipsing across the countryside to find a farm that no longer existed on land that was now part of a forest! But in Ireland I didn’t give it a second thought and off we went.

Uncertain as to the exact location of the farm, Paddy stopped a lorry along the road. The lorry driver looked into the car and said, “Oh Paddy, you have the Canadian woman with you.” Like Paddy, he wasn’t sure where the farm was but suggested we stop down the road at Sean O’Brien’s. Sean’s wife, looking out the doorway said, “Oh Paddy, you have the Canadian woman with you.” She didn’t know the location of the farm either but suggested we stop at Dennis’ just down the way and ask him. Dennis, who also commented on Paddy having the “Canadian woman” with him, didn’t know but suggested that we call John since it was his mother had lived on the farm and she was the last of the Barrys.

Since “the Canadian woman” had planned to contact John anyway, Paddy lent me his mobile and I made the call. John was extremely pleased to hear from me and gave Paddy explicit directions to the farm. The next day, the three of us gals spent a lovely afternoon with my new-found cousin John and his family.

All too soon, our time in Ireland came to an end. I will be forever inspired by and grateful to people I didn’t know – and some I will never meet – for the assistance I was given. The lovely little cottage still beckons the “Canadian woman” back to the old country to spend more time soaking in the atmosphere of her ancestors. Because if you’re lucky enough to be Irish, you’re lucky enough!

About the Author: Maggie Patterson – a very young great grandmother – enjoys traveling with friends to places far and near in search of her family’s roots.

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For Business or Pleasure in New Zealand

As our guide passed out our picnic lunch of sandwiches, fruit, and coffee we began to talk about our lives back home. When it was my turn to share, I grimaced while admitting I was an accountant. Even back home in the U.S., this was often part of my response, apologizing for a job seen as universally boring. I was sitting on a secluded New Zealand beach with six other 20-somethings from a number of different countries and backgrounds taking a break on our day of kayaking in Abel Tasman National Park. As my fellow paddlers spoke, most talked about working seasonally and traveling, and while it turned out no one had a “traditional” job, they also weren’t hesitant to reveal these choices like I had been.

Even in the business field, I had made an effort to be a part of my community by taking a position within my local government. Even making that conscious choice and moving ahead in my career, I was still left feeling unsettled and restless. It was this feeling that inspired me to travel to New Zealand. Going outside of North America for the first time, and to the other side of the world alone was not something I had expected to ever be doing. I had ended a relationship a year earlier, and had spent the months since trying to set goals for myself that would challenge me and give me something to look forward to. My friends were in a more settled place, laying roots and expanding their families, and with their time and money earmarked for those things, traveling was not a priority. I knew that if I waited for it to be a good time for my friends to travel, there would always be a new reason not to go.

It wasn’t entirely clear to me sitting on the beach that what left me feeling different wasn’t my job, but rather that there wasn’t anything that filled me with the same optimism or passion I heard from as the others told their stories. Upon returning home, I noticed that in recounting my trip to friends, there was a new excitement in my words, as I described what it felt like to stand feet from a Yellow-Eyed Penguin in the wild, how impossibly turquoise the water of Lake Tekapo is, and the different set of stars you can see from a mountaintop in the southern sky. The decision to travel to New Zealand opened my eyes to the chance for discovery and new opportunities still ahead of me if I wanted to reach for them. I was reminded that I’m still young, and while this doesn’t mean I need to drop everything to travel the world, I can continue to seek out experiences that challenge me, and expose me the world outside of how I’ve been living.

Choosing to travel alone challenged me both physically and emotionally. But being able to to reflect while surrounded by some of the most beautiful landscapes in the world, I knew this trip I’d been so unsure of taking would stand out as a significant experience in my life. These days, the thought of what comes next excites me every time I pull out my photos, read the journal I kept on that first major trip, and think of the sun on my shoulders as we kayaked back to shore on my last day on the South Island.

About the Author: Hannah Mitchell-Shapiro is dreaming of travel and planning new adventures while living in Seattle, Washington.

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Planet Earth: Simply Living

Throughout the eighteen young years of my life, I have learned that inspiration is not so much a destination as it is a transformation. If you were to ask each person on earth what their definition of inspiration is, more likely than not, each answer would come out somewhat the same. However, if you were to also ask where that inspiration comes from, each answer would be so diversely different that you would begin to question the sanity of the entire human race. My theory for this rational, yet totally radical reality is simply this: inspiration is a state of mind. The word ‘inspiration’ comes from the Latin root word ‘in-spirare,’ which means ‘to breath.’ So, life itself is inspiring! Everything we do is inspired by something, whether we realize or not.

The largest part of the human brain is the Cerebrum, which contains a section of lobes called the ‘Frontal lobes’, otherwise known as the ‘Prefrontal Cortex’. This section of the brain controls ours behavior, morals, actions and emotions, however it all starts with a simple choice. We have the choice to be happy or sad, surprised or disappointed, which means we also have the choice to be inspired. What inspires me is different than what inspires you, thus, inspiration truly is a state of mind. Which leads me to conclude that inspiration is this delicate forte that holds the power of our soul, only to reveal who we truly are.

Who am I? My two blue eyes have experienced inspiration all around. I have explored the Caribbean floor and the unruly mountains of Puerto Rico, while there I would fall asleep to the singing coqui’s and waking up to the chanting roosters; they were always in tune and always on time, never skipping a beat. I have bustled my way through the thrilling, busy streets of New York, and I did so just as passionately as the Yankees. During the chaos, I ventured on my first cab ride and stood star struck on Broadway. My feet have traveled through the subways of D.C, the sidewalks of Chicago, the stadiums in Indianapolis, the back roads of Tennessee, the swamps of Louisiana, the beaches of Florida, the majestic waters of Niagara Falls, and the inspiration of my ever wandering heart.

As I am writing this, I am currently spinning thousands of miles per hour on this tiny planet called Earth, in a tiny galaxy called the Milky Way that is located in a huge universe, only to breath in oxygen and exhale carbon dioxide, again only to breath, to be inspired. Never once have I told my eyes to blink or my heart to beat, it just happens, inspiringly. So, I guess what I am getting at is that I don’t need to travel to be inspired; inspiration is simply all around. Something I have learned is that optimism never reaches its purpose, but it only journeys on to see what is next. Although I find that escaping is necessary for the soul to remain sane, I find that traveling is invigorating and the excitement produced from it always brings me hope for my next big adventure, however sometimes it is nice to take a deep breath, and be inspired by simply living.

About the author:My name is Nancy Mitchell and I am eighteen years young and I am just as optimistic as I am determined. I have dreams bigger than my heart and ambitions bigger than reality. When I grow up, I aspire to be happy, making others smile along the way!

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How 24 hours in Mongolia changed my entire life

The outskirts of Ulaanbaatar, Mongolia. An elongated, stout version of an early 90s style toyota mini-van stood courageously in front of me. Dark green in colour, and angry. This is no family vacation vehicle. It doesn’t know what the “school run” is. It has seen things that would make a lesser van turn and flee.

I climbed inside the musty interior of the Green Devil. Second hand pink and yellow car seats were bolted haphazardly to the floor. Engine vents were ready to belch fumes directly into the cabin. This was going to be Spartan. I was joined by six others, our driver and enough provisions to get us through any situation. It was D-Day.

I’m like any other budget adventure traveller, I have tales of discomfort. Of riding a 19 hour, hard seat night train in China or an over filled mini-bus with some girl vomiting metres from me. The air-con doesn’t work. A sweaty local, passed out, snoring in my ear.

I may love to travel but actually getting from A-to-B is not the glamorous, inspiring part. So why do I do it?

Surely it’s the destinations? Not the cramped local transport I put up with to get to them? I’d always felt like that. But Mongolia changed everything.

I’d scored a spot in a Russian military van. Although the name sounds daunting, these aren’t used for military purposes anymore. These relics of the Soviet Union now ferry tourists from one attraction to the next. The benefit of this cold war technology: it was built to endure.

Our invincible vehicle smashed through open countryside and mud at terrifying speeds. Leaping across the landscape like an overweight ballerina. There isn’t a wilderness driver in Mongolia who couldn’t crush any western rally driver. Ours is no exception.

Welcome to the frontier. The least densely populated, independent country in the world. In this wilderness it’s just us and the bumps. Always the relentless bumps, rattling my blood. Tire tracks lead endlessly into the distance, the only scar on this unworldly, epic landscape. Follow and hope.

As we cross each ridge I look for signs of civilisation. They never come. Just one or two “Gers” (Mongolian tents) and someone herding sheep on a motorbike.

That first 24 hours east of Ulaanbaatar is a movie location scout’s daydream. As I stare through the window, every mile brings a new stimulus. From the dusty, rundown city out to grasslands roamed by camels. High, rocky outcrops appear from nowhere and disappear as quickly. Then we arrive in sand dunes that would be more befitting a scene from Lawrence of Arabia.

Living in a landscape like this, it’s amazing that Mongolian poetry is so banal.

We visit a group of buddhist stupas on a hill. Six white, bell shaped pillars tapering to a sharp point skywards. The only permanent man-made structures we’ve seen in seven hours of off-road driving. As a giant red moon rises out of distant mountains, we camp down for the night.

The next day we head south to the Orkhon valley. Yet another landscape to absorb. Black Igneous rocks sprout from the ground unpredictably as our driver swerves to avoid them.

If we breakdown out here, there is no tow truck to rescue us, just the ingenuity of the driver and his finesse with sticky tape and elbow grease. Mongolian emergency maintenance.

We Saunter into the days’ main attraction. Finally, other people. The wide plain drops suddenly into a small valley revealing a gushing 30 metre waterfall – no water shortages here in Mongolia. After having much of the country to ourselves, it’s bizarre to be engulfed by nearly 100 tourists, mostly Mongolians, jostling to get selfies.

For all the hours of bumpy roads, this waterfall was nothing special. Maybe there was something else that made the trip worthwhile.

We return to our trusty vehicle, ready to be buffeted from side to side. Constant, nauseous movement. But as our van-come-roller-coaster traverses the wilds of Outer-Mongolia there is a realisation.

This truly uncomfortable mode of transport is not just a means to get between towns, cities, or tourist attractions. It’s not a Chinese night train, tolerated for the prize at the end of the tracks.

The van is Mongolia.

It’s wild, untamable, insane yet reassuringly robust. It has survived, never changing, part of a natural unity. When the Russians left, the vans stayed, like adopted children who have found their true family.

I’d never thought getting from A to B could be so exhilarating. Cocooned inside our dark green washing machine, the view through the tiny windows an ever changing landscape. The journey more inspiring than the destinations. I had discovered the essence of adventure travel.

It no longer mattered where we were going, just that we were going.

—————-

About the Author: Tom Williams blogs for the Five Dollar Traveller website. From riding a crocodile in Thailand to getting drunk and going clubbing with Muslims in Mongolia, Tom is living the dream… and then writing about it.

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A Hidden Gem in Green Bay

Some say life is full of regrets. I disagree. You can’t change the past so you might as well learn from it. So by taking any regrets and turning them into lessons it is hard to find a place I have traveled without learning a lesson. Out of my limited hat of travels, one place comes to mind, Green Bay, Wisconsin, a family vacation I will never forget.

Family vacations can be complicated and frustrating. In my few years of experience as a mom I have learned that keeping it simple is best. We recently took a wonderful trip to Green Bay, Wisconsin. After a few weeks of research and planning we had an interactive yet simple schedule to follow for our 4 day weekend.

Our first day included a fun-filled day at the National Railroad Museum where none other than Thomas the Tank Engine was visiting. This “Day Out with Thomas” was just the perfect springboard to get my 2 and 5 year old boys ready for vacation. With plenty of playing room, craft times and the highlight of the day train ride with Thomas pulling the car, it was magical. The sun was shining, the park was not too crowded and we finished off our time at the gift shop purchasing souvenirs to remember our time there.

A family dinner at a local restaurant and good nights sleep got us prepared for our tour the next day of Lambeau Field where the Green Bay Packers play in the NFL. This tour was especially for my husband but the kids and I were enthralled in the history and fun facts our attentive tour guide mentioned on our hour- long tour. Finishing off on the actual ‘frozen tundra’ topped our morning outing off with a cherry. A very memorable cherry, since they let you wait for a moment in the tunnel before heading out to the field while out of the speakers come recorded cheers of fans. This gives you a glimpse into the magical moments before a big game with thousands of people excited for your arrival. Chills creep up my arms as I think of the powerful emotions the players must go through in anticipation of the game. Once on the field, I took plenty of cheesy pictures of each family member (no pun intended if you remember we call ourselves the cheese-heads).

Taking the rest of day two to lounge in the hotel for family time and much needed relaxation was the perfect way to gear up for our third day excursion to Bay Beach. This is no ordinary beach – this is a amusement park set up by the city in 1892 with lots of carnival rides for $.25 -$.50. My parents brought me as a child to this wonderful park that can make life long memories of a wonderful time. Just like the good old days you can watch your kids on a small train ride, little boats, fire trucks or swings. The day was filled with riding all the colorful rides and not hurting our wallet in the process. Bumper cars and a small roller coaster next to the bay made us a little hungry, but with the snack shop open we soon devoured burgers and fries. Keeping with nostalgia a ride on the Ferris wheel and merry-go round allowed me to get some priceless pictures of the little ones.

Ending our trip with more family time and a leisurely dinner was perfect. Green Bay has more than just family friendly attractions. It has beautiful hills full of trees and scenery that add to the breathtaking view of the bay. I don’t think anyone would regret spending time with their family, and this trip certainly proved it for me. We found a wonderful city in our home state and made life-long memories together. No big travel hassles, since we were packed safely in our own vehicle. No lines at airports or train stations. Not even a long trip since it is just a few hours from home. The world holds wonderful sights and magical places and I found a ‘hidden gem’ right in our own backyard.

About the Author: C Elizabeth Pergande likes to travel close to home. A mom of two little ones knows it is easy to go backpacking across western Europe. Her and her husband find joy in spending time with the family and friends by visiting new places nearby.

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Get Inspired: Seven Days & Paris Letters

SEVEN DAYS LEFT to share your story in our Inspiration Travel Writing Contest!

We are looking for an article about a place that inspires you to spend your time with no regrets. FIRST PRIZE is $1,000usd. Total prizes: $1,750usd. CLICK HERE for more information and to ENTER! I thought your might need some inspiration from Paris so here is my recent article from the Huffington Post about the new memoir, Paris Letters.

Paris Letters: Relax and Let the Journey Unfold

“Leap, and the net will appear,” says Janice MacLeod in her memoir, Paris Letters.When MacLeod realized that “I grew up; my dreams did not,” she decided to act. She began by with a New Years resolution in 2010 to become an artist. Simply choosing a path is powerful. On December 31, 2006, I made a resolution to find a long-term partner and buy a home. On January 18, 2007, I met George, who would become my travel partner and husband and within days, found a home which I made an offer on and still own.

Reading her memoir, Paris Letters, I was surprised at the similarities in her memoir and my own. While she was “thirty-four, single, lonely, feeling unfulfilled by my job, and on the brink of burnout,” I was slightly older (thirty-nine) and much heavier. We did have the same magic number. MacLeod decides: “For now, I had to save or make $100 a day.” When George and I decided to create a budget for our sabbatical year, we also used $100 a day as our goal.

Before I met George, I went though many of the choices that MacLeod made. I had read “Calling in the One: 7 Weeks to Attract the Love of Your Life,” and one of the suggestions was to clean out a drawer and make space in your life for love. I ended up cleaning out half of my house and taking 17 giant bags to National Council for Jewish Women Thrift Shop in West Los Angeles.

MacLeod began with cleaning out closets and realizing shopping more only brought clutter into the house. She ponders: “Was I getting rid of the things that got in the way of a remarkable life? Could I actually have a remarkable life underneath all this stuff?” Making conscious choices to take care of herself, paint more, finish letters and sell things she did not need allowed her to reach and surpass her goal “by doing a hundred little things to save or earn $100 a day. I managed to save almost $60,000, nearly twice what I thought I’d save.”

Read the full review: CLICK HERE!

Here is how my article ends:

MacLeod shares how she became kinder to herself:

I let myself stay home and paint rather than go out ‘just in case my soul mate was there.’ I started enjoying the process of unraveling my apartment and of not having as many choices in my closet. I walked more. I bought myself flowers. I started this journey by getting rid of clothes, but eventually I slowly peeled off the layers of judgments I had placed upon myself for failing to get married by the ripe old age of thirty-four. For failing to find happiness in my chosen career. For creating a life that wasn’t much fun. I let myself off the hook. I forgave myself for the judgments. The truth is that I did the best I could with what I knew at the time. And at some point, I had the good sense to change my usual self-inflicting, unnecessary, and lame New Year’s resolution from an uncreative ‘lose ten pounds’ to a simple practice of writing in my journal. It was this slight change that got the ball rolling.

I hope that you have made resolutions you can keep. Maybe try a new one this year as a Valentine’s gift to yourself. To write in your journal. To take a daily walk. Or to become “The artist who is the head honcho creative director of her own life. We must know how to design our lives. We are all artists, and each day is a canvas.” Paint something beautiful!

About this Review: Lisa NIver Rajna is traveling the world with her soul mate and husband, George. They left Los Angeles in July 2012. Follow their journey at We Said Go Travel. Read about their underwater engagement in Thailand in Traveling in Sin.

 

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Beauty in Bunaken, Indonesia

Designer clothing, handbags, pumps, jewelries, all those wallet-thinning ornaments, that’s the definition of beauty people use nowadays. In time, they had forgotten the small beauty the world’s got to offer. But there are things most people might not realize. It doesn’t need to be expensive nor fancy. Some beauty comes in simpler, much smaller form that one must try hard enough to truly recognize. Find it and you’ll see the world as fascinating as it can be.

And for me, that thing is Bunaken, a small unnoticeable island where beauty knows no boundaries. Reigned at Sulawesi, part of Manado, Indonesia, Bunaken was one of the place where time didn’t seem to tick. Where I felt like the sky wasn’t the limit, that this life was worth living for. From the minute an inch of my flip-flop touched the smooth white sand of Bunaken, all the way to my last, it was an experience I would live twice for.

My breathtaking journey began all the way in the summer of 2011, where my family decided to spend our vacation in Bunaken. When I first heard that name, my hopes of a fantastic trip that I could brag to my friends immediately fell. It must be one of those unknown island of boredom, I thought. But time proved me wrong. It was amazing how 30 minutes in a small open cap speed boat, dancing across the ocean that took me from the gigantic 174,600 km² island of Sulawesi to the tiny 8 km² island of Bunaken could shift my paradigm completely. The boat sped up all the way through the ocean, giving me a full adrenaline ride with an angelic view of the open sea where my mind noticed things I never did before; like how blue the sea was and how the enormous Sulawesi could fit my palm from far away.

With the wind howling all around me, my hair slapping loosely across my face, and the raging of the wave that took the ride to a whole new level with its ongoing bumps, it was a magnificent way to appetite myself for the beauty to come. Up till this moment, I can’t seem to find a word suitable of describing what laid in front of me that day. Everything, starting from the smoking hot sun that made my black hair seemed brown, the symmetrical triangular roof of the wooden bungalows that was covered in hays of caramel brown, the tower-like coconut trees that made me feel like an ant beneath its shadows, as well as the crystal clear blue water that is the color of the sky made me felt like Alice in Wonderland. But unlike Alice’s story, it ain’t fantasy. And yet after all the beauties I had captured, only beneath the salty blue water of Bunaken, in an hour of snorkeling that felt like a blink of an eye, was I able to feel the luckiest.

Like winning a jackpot was seeing the colorful fishes from the size up my pinky up to the size of a child had been. It was as if Leonardo Da Vinci was being drowned there and decided to draw a masterpiece in a canvas of water. All sorts of color mentionable, all shapes one could possibly draw, everything was integrated around me. The fishes swam near me, flipping their tiny fins, making me feel like one of them.

But there are more to Bunaken than meets the eye. Electricity barely ran there. Available, yet not enough for air conditioners, TVs, computers, and all modern technologies people would die not having. Mention everything the city you live in has, Bunaken won’t even make half of your list. So at night, I had a once in a life time experience of sleeping in the midst of the hot dry air of Indonesia. It may sound like a nightmare, but it made me realized things I never took for granted. Like the full-flowing 24/7 electricity I had back home, schools that were so near I could just walk, malls, markets, everything available right beside me.

Bunaken may seem like an old fashioned island, unknown and left behind, yet not a soul could deny its beauty. Sum up beauty in one word, and it was Bunaken. Simple, yet downright beautiful. Two nights surrounded by the breathtaking simplicity of Bunaken wasn’t nearly enough, as I even lost count of time. But that was life, it waited for no man. So as I sailed back to Sulawesi, I watched as the flattering island of Bunaken became smaller and smaller, until just the size of a bead, consuming the beauty it just spread my mind, vanishing beneath the horizon, too distanced for my eyesight to catch. And it’s still sitting there waiting for another soul to bind with.

About the Author: I’m Winona Maria Muliadi, a proud 14 years old Indonesian with an obsession of reading who spends her spare time drowned in words and writing to her heart’s content. Thank you for reading and commenting. Please enter our next Travel Writing competition and tell your story.

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A Day in Széchenyi Thermal Bath, Hungary

I ask the reader – who needs time? Who needs the concept of time, the planning, the organising, and the worrying of the ticking and tocking of the clocks hands as it steals your precious seconds from you. Thankfully, time does not exist at Széchenyi thermal bath.

The humid continental temperatures of a mid-June’s summer day in Budapest would make any person cry in anguish for the need of some kind of water activity to cool their baking skin gathered from a full day of sight-seeing in one of Europe’s most majestic, inspiring and rewarding (you’ll see what I mean by rewarding) cities.

Having researched Hungary on many websites and travelogues before I left, it came to my attention that Budapest is known the world over for being the ‘City of Spas’. I kept this in mind on that particular sun soaked day in City Park, which is where the most famous thermal bath in all of Hungary is located. I stepped off the subway train and climbed out of the maze like infrastructure, and being the second oldest underground railway in the world – it really did amplify the heat. Emerging from the tunnels of old and into the full bloom of summer, I looked down and gazed at my map – struggling to figure out where this landmark was. A sudden tap on my shoulder made me startle, I quickly turned around to see an old gentleman with a nicotine stained mustache smiling enthusiastically and pointing, ‘there, there.. Széchenyi” he spoke. It was right in front of me. How did he know I wanted to see this place? Maybe he could tell by my exhausted face I was in need of some relaxation… or maybe my trickling facial sweat gave it away – who knows.

The Neo-baroque façade stared at me in all its awe-inspired magnificence. I thought to myself, behind these majestic yellow walls lies a thermal pool – where relaxation exists without the need for time to moan at the user. To me it felt like some kind of fantasy novel, where a weary backpacker who has been on the road for days stumbles across a beautiful oasis full of magical charm, in which one wish is granted. For me, my wish was for time to leave me alone -with absolutely no regrets on how I spent my day.

I entered the facility – paid my entrance fee and made my way through the building to the changing room. I looked around, no clock to be seen. No annoying reminder that your day is slowly ticking away. I smirked to myself. Me 1 – Time 0.

I left the outer building ring to reach the main internal bathing area. What I saw blew me away.

The stillness of the thermal waters gently released hot steam, which quaintly blew upwards into the calming blue sky. There were many people about but that didn’t both me as they all seemed to be enjoying themselves without a care in the world. In one corner, I saw a group of 8 middle aged Hungarian men semi-submerged and semi-naked in the water, casually playing a game of chess! On the patio surrounding the pool I saw numerous people sleeping on sun beds, making the most of the weather. I did not see one person checking their watch, or hurrying about. What I saw was magnificent, a group of people – of all ages and professions – enjoying themselves. It seemed obvious to me that the inspirational surroundings of such a place can make anyone forget their troubles and relax.

I snapped out of my train of thought and slowly walked to the slight drop which entered the thermal bath. My toes were the first to feel the soothing medicinal qualities of Hungarian spa water. I then carefully submerged my whole upper body into the bath – which caused a wonderful tingling that was sent to every nerve. It was a huge pool of potion with great healing qualities, I felt magically empowered by the supreme quality of the water – from toe to neck. I closed my eyes and pictured Norse Gods playing around here, splashing each other like little children amongst hysteric giggles – it’s the sort of place they would hang out.

Time went by, or did it? I had no recollection. I slowly opened my eyes. The sun drowned in the horizon, its rays of light glimmering in the darkness of the clouds faded and the pale moon peeked at me from the stars. The water was shimmering with a white glow, but there were those 8 Hungarian men still sat down playing chess… and there were those families by the patio, still resting on the sunbeds.

I thought to myself “when in Hungary, do as the Hungarians”, I fell back asleep and continued enjoying myself without a care in the world.

About the Author:  Daniel Wild Graduated with a Geography degree in 2013, this propels my travel interest even further and I am thinking of undertaking postgraduate study. I also very much enjoy writing.

Thank you for reading and commenting. Please enter our next Travel Writing competition and tell your story.

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