Lisa Niver's Blog: We Said Go Travel, page 461

France: Steps of Le Panthéon

Life is astounding. It works in many mysterious ways; it can surprise you, it can challenge you, it can beat you down; but above all, it can amaze you. I have had people amaze me, ideas and theories amaze me, and best of all, I have had places amaze me. Finding beauty in the most simple or the most dynamic of things is never something that evades me. I can be awed by a basic garden, booming with color and full of life; at the same time, I can be awed by a complex system like Calculus, full of byzantine equations and definitions.

Nothing is more awe-inspiring, however, than the Eiffel Tower lit up at night on Bastille Day. While everyone raves about how beautiful the Eiffel Tower is in general, the structure’s simplistic design adds to the loveliness. As an aficionada of architecture, seeing the Eiffel Tower in person was enough to make me squirm, but seeing it for the first time twinkling against the pitch-black sky just added to the greatness of the experience. What made this moment even more special was spending it with someone I love, my boyfriend. They say Paris is the city of love, and I was lucky enough to get to spend a week in Paris with the love of my life.

The fact that you can see the Eiffel Tower from just about anywhere in Paris is a no-brainer, but I cannot imagine watching the fireworks and the illuminated Eiffel Tower light up the night sky from anywhere else in the city. My boyfriend and I walked about thirty minutes through construction and traffic and somehow came across Le Panthéon National, a French mausoleum situated in the 5th arrondissement on Montagne Sainte- Geneviève, a hill that positioned Le Panthéon to be in the perfect location that overlooked much of the city and had an astounding view of the Eiffel Tower, provided you were on the front side.

From sitting on the steps of Le Panthéon, we had a perfect view of the Eiffel Tower, not too far in the distance. The location was great because as we waited for the fireworks to begin, we could walk down the main road, Rue Soufflot, leading up to Le Panthéon National. On that road were various antique shops, modern boutiques, cafés and creperies, and libraries; but at the very end of Rue Soufflot was Amorino, a small Italian gelato shop that serves the best gelato on the planet! My boyfriend and I visited some of these shops for a few minutes and then took our time in Amorino, picking out the perfect flavor of ice cream that we would savor as we watched the firework show.

Once we returned to the steps of Le Panthéon, at least a hundred more people had shown up and were sitting on and in front of the steps. We ultimately had to find a different place on the steps to sit, but that did not hinder the experience; for when the fireworks started, we could still see them perfectly. Being in Paris for its national holiday is one thing, but I am very grateful for having the opportunity to watch the fireworks over the Eiffel Tower with someone that was just as important to me as the experience I had.

About the Author: Bailey Hill: I am from a small town in Illinois and am studying Astrophysics at the University of Illinois in Champaign-Urbana. I spent a month in France in the summer of 2012 and that totally changed my life! I love writing and traveling, and twitter.

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Thimphu, Bhutan: National Memorial Chorten

Bhutan is a Buddhist country where religion is taken seriously,  one sees monasteries, temples, chortens, and prayer flags, across the country. The most ubiquitous of these are the chortens. Stone or earthen square structures, with proportions about twice as tall as wide, a sloped stone roof, the shape much like a cupola, as small as a dog house or large as a house. The structure is solid, with a relic or valuable object secreted somewhere in the base. Always white, with a rust red band running horizontally near the top. There are variations, subtle or extreme, in the design, but the overall look is such that new visitors are soon able to recognize a chorten notwithstanding the varying styles.

Marianne and Bhutanese woman at National Memorial Chorten

Biggest of all is the National Memorial Chorten in Bhutan’s small capital, Thimphu. Not a strict adherent to the traditional style, it’s 3 stories tall and not solid, the base houses a temple that can be entered and is home to altars and statues of the Buddha and other deities. This chorten is about 15 years old, centuries younger than most. It lacks the beauty and grace of many, and has a slightly gaudy look to it. My aesthetic critique aside, it is very heavily visited by Bhutanese. Elderly people spend much of the day there, circumnambulating in the proscribed clockwise direction, swinging prayer beads and holding prayer wheels they keep spinning with a motion of the wrist, each spin sending more prayers aloft. Others pay shorter visits to give thanks or pray for assistance or guidance.  Talkative students tell us their visit is due to upcoming exams. Tourists visit as it’s a significant site, and while one may not fathom Buddhism, its impact on locals is touching and profound, and I am always compelled to offer my own silent prayers.

 

This visit I’m carrying photographs taken by Marianne, who accompanied me to Bhutan some months ago. At the chorten her group met a number of elderly women. We approached these women, who looked like transplants from the 17th century and asked for permission to photograph them.  Elderly people typically dress in the traditional manner, women in ankle length skirts stitched from locally woven multicolored cloth. A tunic like top is fastened to the kira, with silver dollar size ornate brass or copper buttons and pins, which hold it in place. The resulting look is colorful yet restrained. These women were born long before the introduction of English as medium of education, so our requests were non-verbal, yet easily understood and granted. They enjoyed seeing the images of themselves, and indicated they wanted to be photographed with us. Dorji translated when our sign language failed, and we learned they come every day to pray. Devout as they may be, it was pretty clear there’s a good social component to their day. Marianne wanted to get them copies of the pictures, so Dorji suggested she give them to me to distribute upon my return.

Marianne photographs her new friends.

I arrive with a handful of her photos. There are thousands of people at the chorten. Dorji hands the pictures to our driver Pema, and in Dzongkha tells him to locate these women. From Pema’s response, it’s pretty obvious he’s said something like, “you’ve got to be kidding.” We sightsee for 10 minutes, and find Pema still searching for the needle(s) in the proverbial haystack. The women are not where they sat 4 months ago, and I’m ready to conclude that we gave it our best and let it go. Moments later Dorji spies one of the women. We look from picture to person and all of us agree that it is she. He hands me the photo, and I approach her. For a split second she seems to register puzzlement. Then she sees her picture and a grin erupts over her face, followed by a torrent of words. I show her the other pictures, and within seconds we have a crowd of elderly people around us. The others in the pictures are present, and all of them are smiling, gesticulating and shouting (or what passes for shouting in Bhutan, where voices are never raised). While there’s a language barrier, we cannot miss their excitement.  Dorji is fielding questions from the crowd, he says they are all asking for their photo, “where’s my picture, so many tourists take my picture, I want my picture.” He’s left explaining that one person took these photos and we have only these to distribute. As many do not hear he needs to repeat this numerous times. While disappointment might be expected, they all seem thrilled with the photos we have and the recipients pass them around for everyone else to see, and again language not needed to observe how much excitement and happiness the crowd shares.

Elderly Bhutanese Women at National Memorial Chorten, Thimphu

While we might have made their day (very few Bhutanese seem to have actual photos of themselves), they’ve made a good part of our day, and it could only have been better had Marianne directly observed the delight her gesture provoked.

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California: My trip to the city of Angels

Going to Los Angeles California was a dream come true for me. It is something that I will never forget and cherish for the rest of my life.

I was busy preparing for a Math test, when my Dad phoned to inform me that we would be taking a trip to the City of Angels. I became hysterical and was in a state of deep excitement for the two weeks prior to the actual trip.

I am a fan of American culture, and visiting USA, was something that I dreamed about, yet thought would not have happened. Prior to visiting LA, my knowledge of the city did not extend very far. All that I knew about it was that my childhood icon, footballer David Bechkam had found himself a nice quiet retirement village at soccer club, LA Galaxy.

So after boasting to all my friends about my trip and two weeks of continuously thinking, “ I cant wait for the trip”, the departure day finally arrived. After about 18 hours, there I was in the city of Angels.

Upon arriving at LAX, I thought that the airplane had literally crash landed in heaven. I had never experienced such beautiful infrastructure and professional service before.

We stayed at the Westin Bonaventure hotel on South Figeroa street. Accomodation there was top class. I was particularly impressed by the work ethic of staff there. For instance, if I needed something from reception, a butler would arrive at our room, within a minute or two.

On day one, we visited the FIDM, which houses costumes worn by famous actors and took a stroll down broadway. To me, LA seemed just like how it is in movies. Long streets surrounded by pearly trees.

We tried out popular Los Angeles cuisine such as Cajuna chicken, Tacos, and Burritos. I was particularly impressed by the Taco’s.

On day two we took a walk through the Hollywood walk of fame and entered the enchanted world of Nickleodoeon studios in Burbank were Spongebob squarepants, Dora the Explorer, Renn and Stimpy, and the fairly odd parents among others were born.

Day three was perhaps the most enjoyable and memorable for me. We kicked it off by going on a tour of Beverly hills. We whizzed past the homes of Hugh Hefner, and Christina Aguilera along the way. In the afternoon, we went to the Universal studios theme park. Listening to explanations of how movies were produced and made was an highly enlightening experience for me. Going on the Simpsons and Jurrasic park rides were scary, but at the same time breathtaking.

Walking through the House of horrors , was perhaps one of the most scary experiences of my life, but I will never forget it. During that walk, I screamed the loudest that I have ever done so, in my entire life. The tour of Universal studios bus ride with Jimmy Fallon was beyond comprehension. I was fascinated by the state of the art technology and panoramic views of Universal studios.

On our final day, we paid a visit to Griffiths museum and Venice beach. Unfortunately due, to time constraints, we did not get to enter Griffiths nor go on a nature trail there.

During the final afternoon, we attended the 2012 Nickleodeon kids choice awards and watched live performances by One Direction and Katy Perry. The sliming of Justin Bieber was the cherry on top for me.

I was sad to bid farewell to LA. This trip not only allowed me to discover a new culture, but a different country and also learn how fascinating this world really is. The trip has motivated me to work harder in life. I do hope to visit LA again some day, and to do so, I will have to work hard.

About the Author: Eshlin Vedan is a student in Durban, South Africa and loved his adventure to Los Angeles.

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Clare, Ireland: Beauty Spots and Bank Machines

Too Unspoiled? Beauty Spots and Bank Machines in Clare, Ireland

Facing the Atlantic coast, Ballyvaughan in west Clare was a long trek from Dublin. Driving on the narrow, twisty roads is not for the faint-hearted – I was just a passenger, and I still fancied a drink afterwards – but like much of rural Ireland, this village in the western province of Connaught is inaccessible by public transport. We checked into our hotel, looked out the window at the car park for a bit, and set out to explore the village – hopefully incorporating a trip to an ATM on the way.

The Atlantic, photographed from Ballyvaughan at sunset

Ballyvaughan does not teem with attractions and visitors’ centres (it does, however, have a signpost that is a designated landmark. Really), nor does it have an ATM. We walked along the peaceful coast, admiring the flat ripples of the bay lapping against the stony strand. We passed a river bed which had grown thick with grass, and a small cluster of adorable donkeys nibbling where water once flowed. A sign on the pier advised us to be alert for signs of drug smuggling and provided a phone number to call if we saw any suspicious activity. I thought of Enid Blyton’s Famous Five books, of intrepid children in a rural idyll uncovering smugglers. For all its grittiness, the Customs Drugs Watch sign just served to underscore how much Ballyvaughan seemed to have landed here from another time.

We stopped for tea and an excellent chocolate cake in An Fear Gorta, took some photos in their gardens and walked back to the hotel. It was growing late, so we ate a meal of Atlantic seafood looking at the Atlantic, in a pub with walls covered in ephemera. It was pleasant and it was serene, but it may have seemed we came a long way for very little.

Not so.

The Cliffs of Moher (or Insanity, if you prefer), seen from the sea below

Ballyvaughan is a short drive from the Cliffs of Moher, one of Ireland’s most famous landmarks. The Cliffs appeared in Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, and had a major role in cult film The Princess Bride as the Cliffs of Insanity, which Fezzik climbed as Buttercup and Inigo clung to him. Our second day in Ballyvaughan was bright and still, so we headed for the Cliffs via the stunning coastal route. It is no longer possible to walk at the top of the Cliffs without paying an admission fee, and due to an unexpectedly strong objection to paying admission to be outdoors, we opted instead for a boat trip beneath the Cliffs, which was wonderful. As we waited to set sail, a dolphin swan under our small boat, and a column of rock rising from the water almost seemed alive as it teemed with sea birds. Admittedly we missed the views from the top, which are said to be stunning, but seeing the Cliffs from below did not feel like second-best.

Ballyvaughan also lies on the edge of the Burren, a unique and harshly beautiful limestone landscape. One of Oliver Cromwell’s generals (who, it must be said, may have been particularly blind to any charms the West of Ireland may have, since his boss told the Irish they could go to Hell or to Connaught) said that in the Burren, there wasn’t water enough to drown a man, wood enough to hang him nor soil enough to bury him. Nevertheless, a surprising amount of plant life thrives in the cracks between the limestone ‘pavement’. The Poulnabrone dolmen, a Bronze Age grave dating from 1750 BCE, is an iconic symbol of Ireland and worth the walk. The Burren is bleak, stony, grassy and still – but there is nothing like it anywhere else in Ireland.

Poulnabrone dolmen, a grave dating from the Bronze Age.

On the edge of two iconic Irish landmarks and with a charm all of its own, Ballyvaughan was worth the drive. Be warned, though – we couldn’t find the fabled ATM in the nearby town of Lisdoonvarna, and had to live on debit cards and pocket change until we hit Ennis on the way home. There may be such a thing as being too idyllic.

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Broome, Australia: The Solace of Travel

The Solace of Travel

I still remember the feeling in my chest, in my heart. The feeling was a mixture of despair, fear and an absolute sinking into somewhere unknown. “Six months”, she said as she looked at me with a fixed gaze, watching for my reactions, “they can start a course of chemotherapy, but it is only to give us more time together.” My mum started to cry, but continued to watch me, more concerned about my own reaction than her own fear. From that point on the world changed. I had heard people warn of this cliché before, but I was completely unprepared for this new world with a schedule of hospital visits, midnight calls of pain, overwhelming waves of sheer emotion and the absolute fear of the changes that appeared daily.

It was my mum’s suggestion, “We can stay at home and be sad, or we can take a trip and build some new memories together.” For as long as I can remember my mum had taken me on trips to far away places. I grew up in Australia but was the mixture of an American father and an Indian mother, and had lived for several years on my own in Switzerland. My mum was also a citizen of the world having lived for portions of her life in India, Malaysia, Ireland and now Australia. We loved nothing more than to go on an adventure together. I had inherited from her the need to roam beyond the places I knew to more challenging grounds. At 60 years old, she also knew what I at 27 had not fully yet realised, that each moment was to truly be cherished and that a seemingly simple idea to travel could entirely change perspectives and provide an relieving solace.

We scanned through travel agency websites looking for something that would be within our budget but also within her physical capabilities. “I want to go somewhere where the sun shines”, she said, and it was then that her eyes lit up and she called out, “Broome! I always wanted to go to Broome.” So the decision was made and a few weeks later we set off on a small airplane to travel from Perth to the north of Western Australia and the coastal town of Broome. Our vision of Broome had come from local travel documentaries with long sunny beaches and Pearl farms and whilst Broome did provide all of those attractions, we were grateful for the simple experiences that Broome gave us.

On a day with open blue skies, we wandering through the local market set up on a field. When she could walk no more, I spread out my scarf on the grass and my mum fell asleep whilst I read beneath the shade of a giant Boab tree. I felt the heat from the ground radiate through me and heard the distant sounds of buskers and chatter at the markets. I watched her face as she slept, free of worry and pain, finally relaxed in this place away from the reality of home. By chance we found a new seafood restaurant that night and enjoyed the fresh prawns and fish from the region, grateful for the opportunity to share the delicious food together. We joined the groups of tourists and watched the sunset over Cable Beach in the evenings casting a beautiful light across the ocean.

On the advice of a friend we stayed in an apartment near the beach. It had a pebble lined outdoor bathroom and shower, perfectly suited to the balmy heat of the Broome nights. The novelty of the bathroom spoke to the child in each of us, and silliness erupted whilst dancing under the moonlight or shrieking as a unaware frog joined someone under the shower. One evening after a swim at the beach my mum erupted into song in the outdoor shower, suddenly re-enacting a cabaret act in her bathing suit. On this trip to the tropics we had managed to recapture a feeling of being carefree, enjoying the moment that found ourselves in.

Just before my mum passed away she said to me in reflection, “I know that the time will come when you will need to seek something for yourself. Don’t be afraid to venture in the world as it may well bring you the peace you need.” I have continued to carry her message along on all of my journeys and have never failed to be grateful for each moment that I experience in the world around me.

About the Author: Sarita Slater is an avid adventurer and budding travel writer. Sarita has spent the last year traveling some of the world’s most beautiful areas. Her favourite travel destinations so far have been Antarctica, Cuba and Nepal. This article was written about a town in her home state of Western Australia.

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India: Absolute Relatives

India: Absolute Relatives

After living in India for the past month and a half and Indonesia earlier, we’d gotten pretty much used to power cuts. But not like this one.

If it was any other day, the electricity would cut off every now and then, a few hours here, a few there. For that time, all you can do when the fan stops spinning is close your eyes and keep saying to yourself, “This is not hell. This is just a sauna.” Today wasn’t like those other days. Today was a scheduled all-day blackout, where there’s absolutely no power from about 9 a.m. to 6 p.m. or later. This is normal, our hosts explain. Happens at least once a month. Just another day in the village.

Since mid-June, Asia and I have been living the village life. Staying with a family near Pondicherry in South India, on the outskirts of a town called Auroville. We came down this way only planning to stay a month. But we met a young woman in an internet cafe who told us her family had a room available that they rent out. The deal was way too good to pass up. Especially since we’d get that authentic experience of living with a local family, including homemade meals and squat toilets. We knew off the bat it’d be nothing like living in a hostel or guesthouse, so goodbye A/C, goodbye bed, goodbye Wifi. And that was all good because who really needs those luxuries anyway? I mean, what’s the difference between a bed and the floor other than height? And a squat toilet’s nothing but a crappy carnival game, if you think about it.

But that power. Crazy how that was the biggest adjustment. Not like we have any electronics other than our laptops and a phone. But the cuts happen without warning. Even if you try to expect them when you least expect them, you’ll still be surprised. And surprised we are today, sitting here with the daughter in the middle of a scorching afternoon. No matter what I tell myself, I know this is no sauna.

But it got me thinking about power. And how the same word we use for electricity and energy also stands for dominance and control. This thirst for power goes back to the beginning of time, far as I know. It seems to be hardwired into our DNA. That being said, does our humanity become our own excuse? Or are we expected, in an ideal world, to surrender that hunger for power because we’re conscious of it? On this one episode of RadioLab, I remember hearing that back in the ‘60s, one in three people thought humanity would eventually get to a point where there’s no more wars. Nowadays, only one in 10 people feel that way. Most feel like we’ll never evolve beyond our compulsion for power and greed and so forth.

Hard to see it any other way when you read about a girl named Heaven who was killed by a stray bullet in a Chicago candy store. Or when, even here in Auroville — a town built on principles of seeking divinity and attaining higher consciousness — a French girl riding her bicycle can be attacked, raped and burned alive, which is what happened a few weeks ago. That power. At the root of all the world’s ills, this is what we find. Except this is a perverted sense of power that creates darkness, not light. Will we ever evolve?

It’s going on 7 p.m. now. The power’s still not on. We’re sitting in the main room with the family, drinking Chai tea. The father’s sitting alone out on the porch. We found out that last year, the family had a big fight. From what we were told, the father got drunk one night and was going back and forth with his son when things turned violent. He took a torch, burned his son’s arm. The son swung a stick across his father’s face, knocking out several teeth. They still live under one roof, but they don’t speak to each other.

The son told us his side, but I’m sure there’s more to the story. The father doesn’t speak English so we can’t really talk to him. More often than not, he’s there, but not really there. It’s close to eight when the sun disappears. The village gets swallowed by shadows. In the home, the daughter lights candles so we can see.

I go out to the porch to sit with the father. We’re sitting here now in silence, watching chickens mill about in the dirt. We don’t speak the same language, but I recognize the pain in his eyes. Something in him that maybe wants things to be different. Maybe he refuses to swallow his pride. Or maybe prior attempts to reconcile failed. I don’t know. I can’t ask. But this is the same expression I’ve seen on the faces of many men, and in my own reflection, this need to feel in control. This internal power struggle that manifests in the world around us and hurts those closest to us.

Will we ever evolve? Hard to see from where I’m sitting.

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I am grateful, for the beautiful people of Malawi.

In England I usually wake up to the sound of a song I used to like before it started startling me at 7 in the morning and telling me I need to go to work. In Africa however I started waking up to the sound of a cockerel cock-a-doodle-dooing.

Yeah I know what you’re thinking; I too thought this was just something you see on cartoons, I too didn’t believe it ACTUALLY HAPPENED. But it does, in Africa, and it made me smile every single time. But on this day, I know it’s hard to believe, but my wake up caller was even better than the village cockerel; even more in tune and even more magical.

On this day I was awoken by the sound of Matilda, a 5 year old local delight, singing the winning lyrics of Shakira’s ‘Waka Waka’…

As my eyes opened so did my mouth; I woke up, grinning, for possibly the first time in my life. I jumped from my bed, mosquito net thrown across the floor, and ran outside; again, a first. I threw the door open like something out of a musical and immediately started clapping rhythmically and wiggling around the summer hut; it was classic case of ‘white person trying to dance’ but I felt so alive and so awake and I did not care. Less than a minute later, a fellow volunteer burst out the other door of the house; she was also taken over by the spirit of Shakira. We danced around the summer hut for over 5 minutes just singing, clapping and smiling; people always say the ridiculous phrase ‘I could not stop smiling’ but in this instance I genuinely couldn’t. By the end of it my face hurt but I’ve never cherished pain so much. This was happy pain; yeah, that exists. It was like a small scale flash mob had erupted in the hut but there was no organisation necessary; we did need to be told to dance around like idiots, we didn’t need to be told to ‘smile for the camera’. We didn’t need to be told. We were genuinely smiling and we were genuinely happy.

This was the best wake up experience of my life and one I will never forget; I have tried to re-create it back home in England but nobody seems to want to join in here, and strangely nobody seems to have the same passion for Shakira as that little Malawian girl.

I got these ‘oh my god I’m in Africa’ moments throughout my time there and this was definitely one of the most memorable ones. A lot of the time you kind of forget that you’re in Africa, because the people are so welcoming I think and because it feels so natural to be there within days, it’s almost like you’re home and you’ve been waiting to come here for your whole life. But when it hits you that you are in Africa, it really hits you.

Malawi; one of those African countries that everyone who just watches the news pities and fears, is probably the place in the world that I felt safest, and truly happy. It’s the 9th poorest country in the world; 53% of its people live below the poverty line, but these people should not be just christened ‘poor’ and put in a bracket. Every single person I met in that country inspired me in one way or another.

They should be treated as individuals that, despite lacking wealth and/or possessions can still make a difference in this world of ours. I went over there to volunteer teaching but I truly believe they taught me more than I taught them. They may not have taught me in an academic sense but they educated me on life and I certainly remember more of what they told me than what my teachers told me at school.

I am truly grateful that I share our planet with these beautiful people. I am truly grateful that I got the chance to spend time getting to know them. And I am truly grateful that I can call many of them my friends. I can’t wait to go back to the Warm Heart Of Africa; Malawi; my second home.

About the Author: My name is Evie Dickinson, I’m 19 and I am from England. I am, right this second, supposed to be at university. But instead I am, right this second, planning my trip back to Africa. I have only just started writing about my experiences abroad but I hope it will one day be something I can earn some money doing! I love to write but most of all I love to meet the people we share our world with that we never thought we’d get the opportunity to meet.

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Stop Food Discrimination. Enjoy the Possibilities!

For the longest time, whenever I would travel to a new place, it was just for the sights, sounds and smells.  I typically turned my nose up at any foreign foods or cuisine that I did not find familiar.  I have found that it is not only I that will travel to a destination such as Kuwait but would only eat at the familiar fast food restaurants that I knew from the United States.  I always thought, “Man, if I eat that I will probably get sick or die.”  I overlooked the potential for deliciousness by masking it with a fear of the unknown.  I call my previous way of thought, food discrimination.

It was not until a couple trips ago that I gave in because I was absolutely famished and there were not any of my normal restaurants around.  It was in Al Barsha, Dubai in the United Arab Emirates and literally, the only restaurant near my hotel was a little corner cafeteria that sold local style foods.  Giving in to my hunger I approached the shop but did not go inside at first.  I was looking at the unfamiliar food stuffs on the menu and displayed in the window.  Finally my trip companion Seth and I decided that we would go inside as some of the items on the menu looked (thanks to the thumbnail images on the menu) edible to some degree.  Of course we were still being snobbish and skeptical about the whole situation.  Though all of the other patrons were local construction workers and businessmen, the gentleman at the front counter ushered us in with a very warm smile and sat us at a remarkably clean table.  He then brought us out another menu similar to the one that we had seen outside, only this one contained descriptions in English!  I remember how horrible I felt to have snubbed my nose at this man and his restaurant when now the descriptions of the menu items sounded delicious.  While I cannot remember what exactly it was that I stuffed in my face, I do know that I would have missed out on a terrific opportunity had I decided to keep going until I found those familiar golden arches or some other overrated fast food joint.  Needless to say, I frequented this restaurant three or four more times during my visit.

Since shedding my attitude of food discrimination, I have tried countless culinary wonders that would have otherwise gone unnoticed.  On a visit to Sri Lanka, we were away from all civilization for the day and would be cooked our food by one of our tour guide’s people.  I didn’t worry at all.  No matter what the cook brought out to be served, I would try a sampling and if I found it not to my liking, I would simply look for other things that I could eat.  I have learned that sampling foods is regarded as being “less rude” than just turning your nose up at the dish.  I was completely overwhelmed by the assortment of foods brought to our table.  Each meal was its own testament to my new found thought process.  Sweet and spicy mango chutney, Kiri bath (a Sri Lankan dish of coconut milk rice), Lunu miris (a concoction of red onions and spicy red pepper paste) and Aapa (Sri Lankan flat bread) are now on the top 10 list of things that I have had the opportunity to eat and would again in a second.

If there is one recommendation that I can make to you fellow travelers, it is to make sure you take the most away from any trip.  The only way to do this is to expand your horizons, try new exciting experiences, to include foods and to dive into the culture no matter what location you may find yourself.  We travel to see new, beautiful and sometimes miraculous sights and to toss out the old phrase “Been there, done that.” If you have not immersed yourself in the culture of the area you are visiting, have you really had the full experience?

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Memorial Day Weekend in DC

We celebrated Memorial Day in the US, a holiday to honor the men and women who have died while serving in the United States Armed Forces. What better way to spend it than visiting the U.S. capital? On Friday afternoon I folded my Montague bike, stashed it in the trunk, and went straight ahead to Washington DC. The trip from Boston was long, and the weekend traffic was crazy, but once we arrived, all the driving was worth it.

My first must-see building was The White House. We were allowed much closer than I had imagined, and while it was also a bit smaller than I imagined… I wouldn’t mind living there .

From there, I went to visit The Lincoln Memorial. The building, shaped like a Greek Doric temple, has a large sculpture of Abraham Lincoln seated with inscriptions of his two most famous speeches, the Gettysburg Address and his Second Inaugural Address. Passing through The National Mall and The World War II National Memorial, a memorial to the Americans who served and died in World War II, I came to the Washington Monument. It was a pity that it was closed for repairs and I couldn’t go up, but it was an impressive structure none the less. The surrounding area was a nice quiet green where we could get some rest after our ride.

And of course, I also visited The Thomas Jefferson Memorial, one of the Founding Fathers of the nation and third president of USA.

The Capitol of the United States was another must see. This building houses the two chambers of Congress, and the architecture was very impressive! On Sunday we toured numerous museums of The Smithsonian Institution. Everything from The National Air and Space Museum, and The National Museum of Natural History, to finally seeing the Declaration of Independence in The National Archives Building.

Positive note: ALL FOR FREE!

On Monday, Memorial Day, I went to visit The Arlington National Cemetery. The gravestones were adorned with American flags to commemorate this day, and it was certainly emotional for everyone there. Our final stop was to visit The Iwo Jima Memorial. This statue depicting American soldiers raising a flag during the battle of Iwo Jima is an iconic image, and it was great to see in person.

There are still many places left to visit in DC. The city is packed with historical monuments and museums, so I hope to come back soon! And of course I’ll be back with my bike. The city is perfectly suited for an easy and convenient tour by bicycle. Look! Separated bike lanes!? Take note Boston!

Bringing a bike along was one of the best ideas I’ve had, and since it was a Montague folding bike, I could easily put it in the car trunk and store it safely! It was very quick riding from one place to another and I was able to see much more over the course of the weekend. Visiting Washington by bike was really amazing. It’s the best way to see the city in my opinion! The worst part was having to come back home … I give my trip and A+!

About the Author: Marta Coya Roma loves to laugh, live and bike!

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Myanmar: Exotic Burma Webinar Oct 23 Join us!

Penn Alumni Travel: Explore Exotic Burma

Join Penn grad Lisa Niver Rajna (C’89) and her husband George Rajna, founders of We Said Go Travel, for a special inside look at Myanmar travel. Myanmar holds a special place in the hearts of Lisa and George. They met online because Lisa told George, “The Shwedagon Pagoda is my favorite place on the planet.” In October 2012, the duo meandered in Myanmar for 27 days and now have 45 videos of their journey on YouTube as part of their 130+ video channel. Join them for a webinar on the highlights of this unique and unspoiled land. Learn what to do, what to wear, and when to go to see the magic of Myanmar. [Penn Alumni Travel will be visiting Myanmar in November 2014. Click here for more information.]

Our 45 videos in Myanmar from last October: Click here

George and I met online because of the magic of Burma! Want to know more?

Watch this: 8b He Said She Said at Shwedagon Pagoda Yangon, Myanmar (Burma) 

September 29, 2012. George and I met online because of the Schwedagon Pagoda. During my travels to over one hundred countries, I had visited the Schwedagon Pagoda in 2001 at sunset and it has always been one of my favorite and most memorable places. I mentioned that to George in one of our first online dating emails and he was hooked! A woman with exotic international travel in her blood that is what he wanted in a life partner. From the beginning, we talked about returning to Yangon together to see Schwedagon Pagoda at Sunset and now here we are!

Enjoy our story!

The post Myanmar: Exotic Burma Webinar Oct 23 Join us! appeared first on We Said Go Travel.