Lisa Niver's Blog: We Said Go Travel, page 315

An open heart in Mexico

An open heart in Mexico

Jumping off the edge of a boat, going down into the water like a cannonball. Feeling the warm, salty water flowing around your body. Going up, and taking a deep breath as you rise into the surface, you open your eyes and notice the beautiful turquoise water, glimmering with the sun’s rays. A far, you see the hotel building along the shore, and 180º degrees around, the extraordinary greatness of the ocean. Suddenly, the sun shines energetically on your face. You open your eyes, the sun shines still on your face from the window of the airplane. You look below, and everything to be seen is green arriving Cancun.  A vivacious dominant jungle, and seconds later, the airport. As you exit the plane, a warm, humid breeze hits you suddenly opening your pores to an extraordinary adventure. It’s the beginning of an exquisite experience. An experience that will open all your senses, and all there is left, is to give in to the luring ambiance. The streets are surrounded by an exciting jungle amongst a lake. As you arrive the majestic hotel, and leave to the back part, where so many eccentric dreams lie, your subconscious whispers into your ears “this is it.” The breeze blow into your pores once more, the palm trees gently move, the waves shake with excitement and the sand slides in between your toes, a moment tear-worthy. Your eyes transfigure, as they watch the white sand contrasting the beginning of a sunset, giving its last rays to the clear sky that gives a warm color to the immense miles of water. Celestial.

I know it for sure, I’ve been there. It was a beautiful 12th of June of the year 2014. I sat on a bench and contemplated the pure sand below my feet. I held in in my and took the fresh scent into my nose. It was a purifying afternoon. I got detoxified, all my worries were in the past. I stood up, closed my eyes and heard the calm waves of the ocean. I thought about my parent’s divorce, the social rejection, fake relationships my father’s death and my last heartbreak. For the first time I didn’t cry. I opened my eyes and looked up into the sky, with a comforting smile. “Thank you, God”. For in that moment I knew I was strong and I had been tested, and most importantly, my reward was here. Being there, made me feel emotionally strong and I let go of so many feeling I had been ignoring for years. That night, my insomnia went away for the first time in months. I fell in a deep sleep a couple of seconds after my head touched the pillow. I woke up in the best mood. Later that morning, I ate breakfast on the balcony of the Hotel’s Restaurant. I watched the ocean again but this time with thankfulness. I saw some children running along the shore, yelling and laughing. I bet myself I felt just as unconcerned as they did.

The next day I traveled to the most magical place in my memory: Xcaret. Everything was covered with a revitalizing green. I was in the middle of the most beautiful scenery I had ever seen. My eyes looked everywhere, amazed with a feeling of belonging. I walked through a stone lane admiring the splendid rivers with big turtles swimming around. I walked on and on and got to the shore. My jaw dropped in astonishment, I froze for a moment and discovered the place where I wished to stay the rest of my life in. I gazed at the huge rocks below and the sand below the tall palm trees, I opened my eyes even more, and saw the gorgeous, transparent water sparkling and the soft waves calling me in. I went in and drowned all my worries in the ocean, who took them to a place never to be found. I opened my eyes and a couple of tears fell out.

Days will pass, months, years, even decades, but that one moment of peace will remain forever, a moment worth living for, a moment of life and freedom which many search, but only the open hearted obtain.

Thank you for reading and commenting. Please enter the Gratitude Travel Writing competition and tell your story.

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Flying or Falling in New Zealand

I wished they had asked if we were ready before the plane thrummed to life and began moving. Everyone cheered and I raised my fist halfheartedly as we lurched forward. We had an appointment 12,000 feet in the air. I shifted in my uncomfortable bright orange jumpsuit and reviewed the simple instructions over and over again in my head. As the wheels left the ground and we became airborne I realized I had forgotten to use the bathroom. I did my best to inform my bladder that it would just have to wait. I had more issues to worry about, like whether I would live through the next half hour.

 The plane reminded me of a sky bound clown car (which is not the simile I would have chosen if my mind had given me a choice), but I was quickly distracted by the rattling see through plane door an inch from my right elbow. I was strapped to Albert, so as I averted my eyes from the ground falling away from me I decided to instead try and concentrate on the straps attaching me to the man who had done this thousands of times and obviously lived to tell the tale. But as soon as I did new thoughts started floating through my mind: What if Albert is suicidal? What if he wants to make a statement by taking someone else out with him? What would happen if I just jumped out right now? My heart clutched my throat with tight fists and blood surged from my head to my toes.

After twenty eternal minutes the time came. I was the first jumper. The straps holding me to Albert were so tight I felt like I was sitting in his lap as he leaned over and opened the door. Following his instructions I pulled my goggles over my eyes and looked out. It occurred to me that there was something inherently wrong about looking down at clouds.

 I expected to have a moment to embrace my possible death before Albert pushed us off the edge of the plane, but one second I was staring at the clouds and the next I was heading toward them face first.

I didn’t scream. I don’t think I could. It felt as if all my emotions and thoughts had been left behind as my body hurtled toward the ground. The speed with which we fell was so intense that I think I went a full thirty seconds without breathing. My eyes watered as I swallowed the wind.

Then with breathtaking suddenness we plummeted through the last layer of cloud and broke into the clear sky. I could see New Zealand. Miles and miles of it. The natural green and blue were so bright and alive they looked more like a painting than real life. I knew my body wasn’t visible from the ground and I wondered if I belonged to the sky or the earth.

Earth. Definitely earth. My emotions were beginning to catch up with me as we continued free falling for the longest thirty seconds of my life. Then Albert pulled the parachute (thankfully he wasn’t suicidal). The sharp jerk surprised me like a driver stepping hard on the breaks and the straps dug into my legs, but then we started gliding. Despite my ears throbbing from the sudden atmospheric change and my eyes watering in the wind I watched with wonder as the ground lazily approached us. The buildings grew from tiny pinpricks to doll houses and gradually to their true size as we floated down. I felt enveloped in quiet as we sliced silently through the air.

Then like a blow horn the spell was broken. My eyes grew wide as the ground began rushing toward us. Moments ago our descent had felt slow, but now we were on fast-forward. Albert told me to stick out my legs, which I did obediently. We were level with the treetops, then the top of the buildings, and then my feet found the solid ground.

        I stumbled several steps forward like a child learning to walk, but I managed to stay upright. My body shook as I stood there, uncertain of what to do next and still unsure if my legs would move on command. But then I stared up at the sky and, for the first time since I left the plane, I smiled. I stood there with wild hair and goggle marks around my eyes as the adrenaline drained. Breathing in the moment, I knew that I had just made one of many steps forward in my continual battle to weaken my biggest barricade: myself.

Thank you for reading and commenting. Please enter the Gratitude Travel Writing competition and tell your story.

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Bravery and Vulnerability in Honduras

Bravery is too often confused with adventure and action. Too often, people diminish their own bravery because it might lack the drama of scenery. Bravery is in fact a simple notion: you show bravery when you do something you thought you couldn’t do.

For many, bravery is tapped into when limits are pushed, which of course could mean traveling and putting yourself into an unfamiliar situation. Traveling forces you to question yourself, to see through a new perspective, to feel uncomfortable and to find comfort in the unknown. New places and cultures awaken something inside of us.

But bravery is not only demonstrated by someone who travels somewhere new – it can be found in the simple daily actions of life. A young child learning how to ride a bicycle shows bravery. A teenager asking a crush out on a date shows bravery. A grandparent learning to use new technology to keep up with the grandkids shows bravery. These are all small acts – mere moments in a life – yet they truly demonstrate bravery. They prove to a person that perceived limits can be exceded.

The moment in my life when I felt the need to summon courage and strength, the moment I searched for whatever cape I could possibly don, was in fact the result of travel. But it wasn’t because of travel itself.

It wasn’t when I moved to Ecuador by myself. I didn’t feel the need for bravery when – on my first day of classes as the only American in the entire university – my professor ranted about American policies and foreign relations to a classroom filled with angry youth planning city-wide demonstrations for that very afternoon. This was March of 2008, the day after Colombian military forces armed and trained by the U.S. military had bombed a FARC camp inside Ecuadorian borders.

He finally cut himself off mid-rant when he realized a Gringa had actually infiltrated his classroom.

“Who the hell are you?”

“I’m your new student, Professor. Here to study for the semester,” I replied in my still-nascent Spanish.

“Where are you from?” his face was still red from his rant; perspiration shone on his balding head.

I looked around quickly, knowing that I could lie and then have to maintain that lie for the remainder of the semester, or I could answer truthfully and hope the room didn’t erupt and string me up by my thumbs. I opted for honesty.

“I’m from the United States, Professor.”

I have never seen a man laugh so hard in all my life.

His already purple-tinged face turned scarlet and his features contorted so much that the entire room laughed with him. He finally stopped laughing long enough to demand that I join him at the front of the room to introduce myself and answer questions about my country. I didn’t feel the need for bravery here, only the need to connect with strangers and to demonstrate understanding and empathy.

I didn’t feel the need for bravery when I traveled to Costa Rica to try surfing, nor when I traveled to Jamaica to run a marathon, and certainly not when I traveled to Italy to try to drink my weight in wine.

I didn’t feel the need for bravery when I decided to backpack through Honduras and Guatemala by myself. For me, following my wanderlust was easy, not brave. But it was in Honduras that I was finally faced with a moment that required me to be brave. That moment was when I allowed someone else to impact my life. The moment when I finally felt the need to be brave was the moment I realized I’d fallen in love.

Bravery is neither for the boldest nor wildest among us, it is for each of us to employ as needed.

I had pushed away relationships for so long, fearing that they would hold me back from a life of adventures. I actively chose not to fall in love for years. My first act of true bravery was taking down those fearfully constructed walls and allowing someone to share all of those adventures with me.

Many claim that I was brave to come to Honduras by myself; they say that I was brave to travel alone and to seek adventure and new challenges. What truly happened was that I selfishly wanted adventure and instead learned a lesson in vulnerability. Falling in love requires a vulnerability that can make even the bravest of all adventurous explorers weak in the knees.

Falling in love is the confluence of bravery and vulnerability, a river I am still happily floating down today.

Thank you for reading and commenting. Please enter the Gratitude Travel Writing competition and tell your story.

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Trinidad at its Height

“So who’s older?” the dreaded question. Everyone asks, and it would be fine if we were twins or something, but we’re not and I happen to be a whole year and nine months-yes I’ve counted- older. And when I tell them they seem so surprised, just because she is a little thicker and taller, they all assume she’s older, really I shouldn’t be angry anymore, she’s taller I have to accept that, but I’m still upset. And it’s not just that, all the boys in my year have suddenly been taking growth hormones or something because they have all shot up and are a good head or two above me. Is something stunting my growth? Am I a late bloomer or something? And it’s not like I am the shortest person in the world, I have friends shorter than me, but I’m also underdeveloped. It’s just unsettling.

    Sometimes I wish I were a little bit taller, as tall as a skyscraper or a giant oak tree. I’ve always liked heights, I never understood how someone could fear it, when my younger sister was being born, I ran away and I somehow climbed up a cabinet and I hid up at the top until a doctor found me. I’ve climbed so many trees, scaled the walls of the homes I’ve lived in, gone up on the roofs and I even climbed up bathroom walls without any footholds.  Being high up gives me some sort of security.

      I found a way to be high up even more. Cheerleading had just come to my small island of Trinidad and my school, I was a bit sceptical about it, but at the same time I was excited. With my small height and frame they easily pegged me as a flyer, it was hard, because there is proper technique but I finally got it. Being up in the air on someone’s hands is a different from climbing a tree, there I can hold myself up with all my limbs and I don’t have to worry if my weight will be my downfall, but now I have to stay tight and keep my balance, because one little move could cause everyone to fall. This was a new kind of height and I wasn’t sure I could handle it, but over time I got better, now I do it with one foot.

    I’ve always loved heights, probably always will. Even went on a hike before, sadly I don’t remember much, but I remember the feeling, when the land started to rise and you’re no longer walking on a flat surface, you have to bend your back at a certain angle so you don’t lose your balance, the breeze hits you but somehow different and the world somehow changes in perspective. It was absolutely amazing. The rest of that hike is a blur, but even when I am in a car with the windows up and we start to go up a hill, and I lean back, I feel that way again, as I start to go up higher, but then we come down and the feeling’s gone.

    Here’s the funny thing though, even though I love heights I am a very paranoid person. And I have the right to be, Trinidad though small, its crime rate is high, in the first week of the New Year we had about 14 murders, that’s about two a day. Sometimes it scares me. It’s not a good time to be in Trinidad, crime is around every corner even in the daytime. But one time, my family and I were returning from Grenada, a great vacation, but we wanted to go to Disney Land. We fell asleep on the plane ride but I woke up and looked out the window and had to do a double take. No tree, mountain, person’s hands or cabinet in a doctor’s office could compare to this height, this sight. The land below us was littered in thousands of lights, this couldn’t be Trinidad. Our parents really had taken us to Disney Land! Is what we thought, but we wrong, it was Trinidad. But I still couldn’t believe it, my country; home to so much crime, it looked so beautiful.  Being up so high, looking down at it made me feel something; pride? Admiration? Hope? I’m not sure but I no longer felt paranoid or scared, because my country is gorgeous.

     I will never be without fear, it is an emotion that I have because I am human, but in that moment I felt courage, bravery, valour, call it what you want, but it motivated me to go on without that regular fear I had when walking down the streets.

    Because in the sky I saw my lovely home at its peak, at its height.

Thank you for reading and commenting. Please enter the Gratitude Travel Writing competition and tell your story.

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To My Lovely Mexico

To My Lovely Mexico

I have been very blessed because my parents have given me the opportunity to travel with them. I am not talking about extravagant places like Peru or Australia because my mom has a theory; in order for me to appreciate my own culture as much as others, I have to first know my country and know my culture and how rich it is because it is very different from state to state. That is why my parents decided to travel in Mexico first.

Do not think I haven’t gone out of Mexico because well I actually have; I have visited places like Orlando, Canada, and Los Angeles to name a few. I have been lucky enough to have parents who actually like traveling. I can assure you that I have visited most of the Mexican Republic in my short life, and I could not be prouder. Well first of all I know most of the world’s population thinks about Mexico as place where we all have moustaches, funny accent, ponchos (clothes), sombreros, we travel in donkeys, drink tequila all day and sleep under cacti. Maybe that is the biggest mistake in history! For example I live in a small town located in the biggest state known as Chihuahua. My little town has another town located thirty minutes apart, known as Colonia Juarez. Well to be honest it is like an American town. Most of the inhabitants have white skin, blue or green eyes, and speak English. I have never seen sombreros or tequila or cacti around Colonia Juarez. Mexico, as I said before, has a rich and vast culture; it changes drastically from town to town.

Personally, I cannot choose one place that gives me the sensation of bravery. Mexico as a whole is what makes me feel brave and alive. In my several visits to the capital I have noticed that even though there is insecurity somehow I feel safe. There is this certain kind coziness that the locals make you feel they make you feel like you are part of them, that they have known you for years. Not to leave behind all the beautiful places Mexico has, all the world-known beaches, forests, and the ancient temples and landmarks which make Mexico a unique place to live. As I mentioned before, everything varies from state to state. In the south for example people are the friendliest you will ever meet! Here in the north even though it is the most expensive state, we have the best carne asada in the world.

Bravery is not only of our actions it is also a feeling that we personally get. This is why I chose Mexico, it gives me a sensation that I belong right where I am. Mexican people are hardworking and they love what they do, they love their culture and defend it to the death. They are proud of what they do and who they are and they are not ashamed to show to the world. That is what makes me feel brave that Mexicans never lose their essence and they love their country. I do think that my mom is right. Getting to know Mexico before going to other continents is what will give me the chance to appreciate what I have even more.

Thank you for reading and commenting. Please enter the Gratitude Travel Writing competition and tell your story.

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Meaning Through Music in Bulgaria

When at age 10 I asked my parents if I could have a guitar, I never would have guessed that I would be playing for audiences around the world. Traveling has been near to my heart for a long time now. My parents are travel enthusiasts and made sure that I got every opportunity to travel that they could provide. I grew up in the States but my travels have taken me from Asia to the UK.

My dad’s best friend is a professional classical guitarist. I can still remember the first time I heard him play.  In reality, I had been listening to him play since I was born. It was not until one night around a campfire on the coast of the Outer Banks of North Carolina though, that I really listened to the music. As the fire danced and the stars glistened my ears were opened. The music of the classical guitar flooded my soul and danced in my heart. It was in that moment that I decided I would learn to play. I had to learn to play. There was something in me, driving me, and pushing me towards this marvelous instrument. That Christmas, my parents gave in to my pleading and bought me a guitar. Learning was a rocky road, but eventually my fingers began to flow with ease and find comfort on the neck of the guitar.

I would like to say that the more I practiced, the more my confidence grew with the guitar. Sadly, that was not the case. Somehow, I retained a fear of performance and grew increasingly insecure in my musical skills. I dreaded my mom asking me to perform for guests. However, as time passed, I continued to practice and learn in the hope that my efforts would avail to something.

The years drew on and I continued to practice and perform when urged to. It was not until 2013, while on a trip to the Balkans, that I made my first personal choice to perform. My dad was on a humanitarian mission and had scheduled to bring supplies to a refugee camp in Bulgaria. During his conversation with the director, he had asked if he could bring his daughter to play the guitar for anyone willing to listen. The director excitedly said yes and informed my dad that they would clear out a room for me to play in. My dad told me about the arrangements and asked me if I would feel comfortable playing. My mind was quickly flooded with doubts.

These thoughts were only momentary. It was then that I realized how selfish I was being. These refugees were in a foreign country just like I was. They had been torn from their homes and caught at the borders of Bulgaria. They were now stranded at a camp with hundreds of people who they did not know, and until the government found somewhere else for them to go they were stuck. I thought about the hurt, sadness, and fears that they were experiencing. Then, I flashed back to the moment that the classical guitar had had its first huge impact on me. I remembered the calm and beauty. I remembered the warmth that had filled my heart and how invigorated I had felt. I knew that my skills were nowhere near professional, but I also knew that to deprive these refugees of a chance to hear music would be something I would regret for a very long time. So I made the decision to play.

The day that we chose to visit the camp was cold and snowy. We drove through the main gates and into a courtyard where men were playing soccer. My dad introduced us in Bulgarian, dropped off all of the supplies, made conversation with some of the residents of the camp, and asked about the room I would be playing in. We were lead through several passageways and doorways. Finally, we entered a room that had been cleared out and prepared for the concert.

 

My nerves built, but I knew that I was not doing this for myself. As I began to warm up my fingers and tune my guitar, the room started to fill with women, children, and men. Their beautiful faces looked worn and exhausted. But they also conveyed eagerness and seemed excited for the performance. I began to play and tunes from centuries ago filled the hall. Their faces brightened and in that moment, they could simply listen and be. The performance was far from perfect, but as the children clapped rhythmically to my music and the adults smiled, I found meaning. I realized that to make an impact, you do not have to be perfect. You simply have to be willing to give and to try.

Thank you for reading and commenting. Please enter the Gratitude Travel Writing competition and tell your story.

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Discovering Redondo Beach

Redondo Beach, just 40 minutes south of Los Angeles, is the perfect escape for a weekend. Far off the freeways, you’ll quickly forget you are anywhere near LA and become immersed in the relaxed beach culture. For your next weekend trip, here are the must-dos for a Redondo Beach vacation:

To Do:

After the Rainstorm

1. Paddleboarding (SUP)

Hit up Tarsan when you want to try out paddleboarding. The instructor Elizabeth is nice and helpful, providing equipment for everyone to check out the marine life under the water. Paddleboarding through the marina offers ample opportunities to see sea lions and spot garibaldi fish.

2. Diving

Visit the Dive n’ Surf shop when you’re ready to get underwater. The Dive Pros there shared how Redondo Beach is unlike any other diving destination: divers spotting whales is a frequent occurrence and you can swim through a handful of different shipwrecks.

3. Whale Watching

The whales aren’t shy in Redondo Beach. They frequently come close to the beach because they follow plankton (their meal of choice) into a deep crevice near the shore. Whale spotting is frequent, even from your hotel room window!

4. Boating

Whether sailing or speed boating is your game, the local marinas offer a selection of opportunities for you to get out there and enjoy the fresh sea air. When I went out, a big rainstorm had just passed. The sky was beautiful as the clouds mixed with the light from the setting sun. Getting out onto the water cannot be missed!

 

To Eat:

A Sampler Plate at Kincaid’s

1. Kincaid’s

For a nice dinner out, look to Kincaid’s. The menu is vast and delicious, offering amazing appetizers. The short ribs cannot be missed, and the key lime pie is a must for dessert. The massive windows are perfect for watching the ocean. When I ate there, it was raining. Watching the rain from Kincaid’s was beautiful.

2. Tony’s

If the coconut shrimp from Tony’s crow’s nest bar won’t get you there, the view will. Add their signature mai tai to your tab, and relax. This nautical-themed restaurant is perfect for an afternoon drink and casual lunch.

3. Barney’s Beanery

If you’re ready for pub food, get to Barney’s. The chili fries and wings are perfect for sharing, and the drink list is a beer-lovers dream. For someone looking for a fancier drink, the WeHo is a delicious blended drink. If nothing else convinces you that you’re on vacation, the WeHo, served in a pineapple, will.

4. R10

For the hipper crowd, the R10 is the spot to hang out. With great appetizers and a nice bar, the R10 packs in the deliciousness with their whisky loaf, and my personal favorite, their thai curry mussels. For you oyster fans, their prep is excellent, serving them with a yuzu cream.

 

To See:

The Marine Life Engravings on the Pier

 

1. The Whaling Wall

Painted by renowned muralist Robert Wyland in 1991, his Whaling Wall, officially titled “Gray Whale Migration,” is part of his worldwide series of marine life art. He started the 100 piece series in 1981 and completed in 2008.

2. The Pier

The Pier makes for an awesome walk past great restaurants, an arcade, and plenty of surf shops. I even spotted a free yoga class being taught. The real feature of the pier, besides the view, is the engravings of sea life. From whales to sea lions, there’s plenty to see, even if you’re somehow tired of looking at the ocean!

3. The Sea Lions and Other Wildlife

Redondo Beach is not short on amazing wildlife. From beautiful birds to plentiful sea lions, and of course, whales, the marine life is a huge draw to Redondo. There’s always something cool to see, making it the perfect family destination. What child doesn’t want to watch the sea lions play in the water?

 

To Stay:

The Lobby at the Portofino

1. Redondo Beach Hotel

Recently remodeled, the Redondo Beach Hotel is the perfect family spot. Across the street from the marina, the Redondo is a convenient choice for all of your waterside vacation activities. The breakfast bar in the lobby has both delicious and healthy options, from oatmeal to waffles!

2. The Portofino

For an upscale spot, the Portofino is located on the water, with spectacular ocean views. Sea lions are something of a mascot for the hotel, as they frequently settle themselves right outside the hotel. It’s the perfect waterfront hotel for a luxurious weekend.

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Wonders Await Brave Ones

 

I could always hear the Sea calling, the ebb and flow of the waves, playing like an omnipresent lullabye; gently humming in the background of every significant scene of my life.

The death of my mother, the long talks with my father, birthdays and kisses, even heartbreaks.

My heart had been broken before, but this last time was different somehow. Perhaps it was because I was at a crossroad with my life and keenly aware that each decision (or non decision) I made would define my future. Somewhere along the way I ceased to marvel at life’s fleeting moments and I needed to be awed by simple pleasures again. Each day blended into the next with no spice or flavor to proclaim the novelty of existence to the point I could not find evidence, except the pain of heartbreak, that I wasn’t lost in a dream.

 

I had to escape.

 

It was time to go and and it was instinctual like a child knows the sound of it’s mother voice or the acceptance that tomorrow is never promised.

The prison I’d designed was built from baseless fears surrounding survival and security and it was rooted down deep in my psyche.

Freedom isn’t convenient and doesn’t offer any comfort of the familiar, nor assurance of a safe return. Explorers and travelers know that choosing freedom means confronting the very makeup of ones soul and that such a journey will inevitably change every molecule of one’s entire being.

 

On impulse I bought a one way ticket to Costa Rica.

 

I wanted to release my clutter, I gave away all my worldly possessions. I visited my mother’s grave to ask for her blessings on a sunny day, while hummingbirds whizzed past my head.

Hummingbirds are the messenger of spirits, I read somewhere once, I took it as a good sign and that gave me courage.

 

Waiting for the plane, my fears played upon my emotions and resulted in a racing heart and sweaty palms. As a young woman traveling solo for the first time out of the United States, there were a plethora of fears to choose from and I danced around each as a dancer around a fire.

 

What if the hostel I booked fell through? What if I get lonely? What if get hurt? What if…

 

“Fear attracts predators,” I remember my father once said. “Even if everything is falling apart around you, wear a smile, play a guitar and relax and you’ll attract adventurers.”

 

Once my foot hit the sand of Cocles Beach in Puerto Viejo, Limon, I crumbled before the vision of the sea, like shipwreck survivor finally arriving on land. The sun was setting so magnificently I forgot to breathe and I looked down to process the moment. I saw peeking from the white sand, a shiny 500 colones, as if to say, “congratulations brave one, wonders await.”

I laid in the sand until the stars replaced the clouds and the flies began to bite me. I belonged to the sea now, fully and completely and knew I could no longer live a conventional life as I had before. I had no plans, but just to be present in the moment and reflect upon acquiring peace and worshiping the beauty of my surroundings.  

Thank you for reading and commenting. Please enter the Gratitude Travel Writing competition and tell your story.

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Prague, Czech Republic- The City of Love

My parents asked me what I wanted to do to celebrate graduating from college and without hesitation I told them I wanted to travel to Europe.  My best friend and I arrived in Vienna in mid-May and the most freeing trip of my life officially began.  The third stop on our trip was to Prague.  We traveled by train, which meant lugging our suitcases through a completely foreign city.  We got out at the station and via an old school map (and many, many wrong turns) we finally found our hotel and got settled in.  While getting ready to explore the city we quickly realized my bank had provided us with the wrong currency; Norwegian krones vs Czech crowns. After a quick panic and stop by the money exchange counter, we were on our way to discovering the most beautiful city I have ever experienced.

Everyone I have talked to about my trip has asked what it was that I loved so much about being in Prague.  And the short, unsatisfying answer is that I have no idea.  It is the perfect blend of historic and modern, of foreign yet familiar.  After one day of wandering around I felt like I knew the city map perfectly.  We would spend hours wandering through Castle Prague and seeing the beautiful cathedrals.  We went through the educational (yet slightly frightening) Kafka museum. We had nights out in hole in the wall bars and met many friendly locals.

The most beautiful moment we witnessed was on the Charles Bridge.  At the end of the bridge we noticed a woman in her wedding dress getting her pictures taken.  Her pale skin and red hair complimented her white dress and red roses perfectly.  We admired her for a bit then started walking further down the bridge, not wanting to be a nuisance to her photo shoot.  We then began hearing violins play and realized we were actually in the middle of this couple’s ceremony.  We watched as the bride, in her beautiful gown, walked down the bridge to her fiancée waiting for her by one of the statues.  The couple was two women, and I found beauty in the acceptance and love that surrounded them.  They moved to many of the statues along the bridge and would have one of their loved ones talk about how the statue was symbolic of this couple.  We (and a large group of other tourists) ended up spending over two hours walking with this couple down the bridge in celebration of their love.  We cried when they read their vows, and we cheered when they kissed.  Their love enveloped everyone on that bridge.

That day makes me think a lot about how I treat different moments in my everyday life.  It makes me a little sad to think about all the beautiful experiences that I might have missed due to the rush of life.  If it had been a normal day I would have looked at the bride, smiled, and continued on with my day.  I would never have been able to be a part of this monumental day in this couples life.  I appreciate the lesson Prague taught me about not taking beauty for granted.  I was in a beautiful location with my beautiful best friend and because we were able to separate ourselves from the chaos of everyday life, we were able to celebrate the beauty of family and acceptance and love.

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Conquering Fear One Wave at a Time in Australia

Australia was one of the furthest places I could think of going and I took the plunge. Leaving my life in New York, I traveled over 9,600 miles across the globe to study abroad in a place where I knew no one. All I knew was that I’d be embarking on a brand new adventure.

The slow-paced and laidback beach culture of Australia was completely foreign to me. I was used to constant movement, working a couple jobs, and attending school fulltime. If I wasn’t on the subway, I could generally be found running down the street to make it on time to the next place I needed to be.

After nearly drowning at a young age and then watching endless hours of Shark Week, I became terrified of the ocean. Yet still I moved to the Gold Coast of Australia, which is riddled with beaches. I was forced to challenge myself and step out of my comfort zone.

In one of the first days of my trip, I went on a boat excursion to the Great Barrier Reef. Once we were far out, the crew stopped the boat, dropped the anchor, and said, “Oi! Everyone grab your snorkels and jump in!” I can’t deny that I was scared. We were in the middle of the ocean with thousands of sea creatures lurking beneath us. I handled the snorkel like a rookie, choking on water and my heart raced as giant fish swam across my legs. But in a matter of minutes something changed. I became so enchanted by the beauty of the colorful reef that I forgot about being scared. I just appreciated the moment taking mental snapshots of this magical underwater world I had never seen before. This was the start to a love for the ocean I was unsure I would ever resonate with.

Shortly after my encounter with the Great Barrier Reef, I decided to try surfing. I frequently ran into bronzed surfers, some biking to the beach with surfboards in tow, and I wished to be like them.

I’ll be honest. Standing up on a board was not instant for me. I swallowed water and took a few painful nosedives before riding out my first wave. My body was exhausted, but the adrenaline running through my veins kept me wanting more after every fall.

I did not want to give up after only one day of surfing so I tried again the next morning. There were dark grey clouds in the sky overhead, but the thought of a storm only got me more excited for bigger waves to practice on. I experienced something during the session that I had never felt before. I was lying on the surfboard far from the Australian shoreline without anyone else near me. It was quiet aside from the water’s movement and pitter-patter of beginning rainfall. I suddenly felt the most peaceful sensation.

Usually my mind is racing wildly with a hundred different thoughts at a time, but in this moment it was completely blank. I was in some euphoric, meditative state that I didn’t even know could exist for me. Nothing mattered. I wasn’t thinking about my past or panicking about my future. I wasn’t even thinking about the hundreds of things that could kill me in some of the world’s most dangerous waters regardless of the fact that a bull shark was recently caught near my apartment. With my mind seemingly switched off, all that remained working were my senses. The smell of the air and the movement of the water brushing up against my fingertips. The tiny drops of rain drizzling all over my body and the rolling waves picking up speed beneath me. For one of the first times in my life, I felt like I was exactly where I belonged. I wanted to hold onto that feeling forever. I will always be grateful for my time spent in Australia, and proud of myself for taking the amount of spontaneous risks needed to have the most rewarding trip.

Thank you for reading and commenting. Please enter the Gratitude Travel Writing competition and tell your story.

 

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