Lisa Niver's Blog: We Said Go Travel, page 334

Baby on the Beach in the USA

I sat on the beach over a coconut that I’d just broken open.  I’d never opened a coconut without a hammer or another tool.  There was no hammer here at Secret Beach where I’d run away to be alone. I didn’t expect to find a coconut. I didn’t know what I’d expected to find on the north shore of Kauai but what I found was beyond imaginable.

Secret Beach is remote.  I’d walked a half hour from my jungle apartment, through banyan trees, past the beach dog, a cat, singing birds, and a gekko. 

I’d come a long way to make peace with several tragedies in my life which had worn me down. I needed to find a new me; I needed to rejuvenate.  I was exhausted from family deaths, diseases, caregiving, and losing my beloved job.  I thought maybe a month on an island, alone, would heal me.  After all it was called the Home of the Healing Spirit of the World. 

In fact, it was my birthday when I arrived.  I’d rushed to the sea before doing anything else; I couldn’t wait to find Secret Beach.  I’d seen it from Google Earth but that was a digital image.  When finally I made it through the jungle, I was astounded at the scene — cerulean ocean, balmy breeze, swaying palms, white waves crashing over giant rocks.   I shivered in awe of this majestic Pacific panorama and at my gratitude being in this paradise.  

No one was in sight.  It felt surreal, this scene, like it had been painted just for me on my birthday.  About a mile down shore I spotted an old lighthouse.  I started walking, footfalls sinking into wet sand.  I found a single delicate sand dollar as I made my way past huge ocean rocks that looked like a gathering of gray elephants.

In the distance was something colorful.  As I moved closer I saw it to be something made of beautiful bright hues. I thought it someone’s forgotten towel.  I came closer, then expecting to find a swimmer, coming soon to dry off.  I got closer and then to my amazement I was standing over the lovely towel, which wasn’t a towel.  It was a blanket and it held a tiny baby.  A live, breathing baby!

She was about three months old, pink skin, long eyelashes, curly hair with a bow.

I scanned the beach, up, down, for the owner of this baby.  No one was there, in the water or on shore.  The baby was alone.   She looked like a sleeping angel.  She did not move but was completely serene.

I took a photo of her with my phone.  I settled in the sand beside her and tried to figure out what to do.  How could this be – a baby on the beach wrapped in a gorgeous blanket?  What if she woke up?  Would I touch her? I decided to trust.  Trust that nothing bad had happened.  I decided to not worry, but just to be… be with this special baby.

As I sat gazing at her I thought of my own children.  They had been beautiful babies.  I wondered if I had been a good mother.  I became completely immersed in the past, remembering my three babies.  How I loved them, how I missed them.  I began to cry big salty tears. 

 I heard splashing noises and saw a woman rise up from behind one of the elephant rocks, like a mermaid.  I could only see the top half of her.  She had been completely hidden, snorkeling in a tide pool.   She came toward me, smiling, as stunning as any goddess.

She tossed her long wet hair and laughed, showing me a handful of tiny shells she said she used for making jewelry.  She found them every day after the tide went out.  She, the baby’s mother, turned out to be the housekeeper of my apartment.

“Would you like some fresh vegetables?” she asked.  “I can bring them, from my garden.”   I must be dreaming.   A baby on the beach, with her flawless goddess mother.   

After mother and still-sleeping child left, I walked high on the shore and found the coconut near the lighthouse.  I tried to break it open, first throwing it against banyan tree trunks, several times.  It wouldn’t crack.  Then I got the bright idea to slam it against one of the big elephant rocks.  I threw it as hard as I could and, at last, it cracked open.   Juice oozed out.  Thirsty, I let it dribble on my tongue, over my face – it was a fresh, raw, delightful taste.  I felt primitive.  I felt new again.  Strong.  I waded into the tide pool.  I splashed and sank under warm water and rose up again like a goddess.

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

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An Unexpected Snowy Morning in Vermont

With my eyes half open and my brain not quite alert I clumsily feel around my bed for the ringing phone. I find a fork, a plate, a whole bunch of crumbs, a dog toy and a computer before I locate the source of the noise.  Ah, the life of a single girl. I squint at the light emanating from the screen, my sleepy eyes shocked by the brightness. The number reads (411)000-0000. What is this? A telemarketer? The collection agency I’ve been dutifully avoiding? At this hour, that makes no sense. I question whether to answer at all when it hits me. This number could mean only one thing. I answer,

“Due to inclement weather and road conditions, school has been cancelled for today.”

It may as well be been God calling. A snow day! 

Excitement wriggles through my veins like that of a child instead of a teacher. Rosie, my black and white spotted, Tasmanian Devil of a dog, watches me from her bed in the kitchen. Itching to see what Mother Nature delivered, I bundle up, leash up Rosie, and step outside into the wintry Vermont morning.

The deserted street is blanketed in white. Cars are invisible under the piles of snow, and tree branches hang heavy, threatening to snap. The cloud filled sky is dropping thick, wet flakes that land soundlessly on every surface. I hear the plow before I see it, scraping the road in a futile attempt to remove the snow before more accumulates.

Rosie is in heaven. She shoves her head into the powdery snow and excitedly looks up, urging me to join her in this activity. She is not sure what to make of the newly defined landscape. She darts back and forth at the end of the leash deciding where to go next, as all her usual smells have been enveloped by the snow. Looking up, she scans the trees for a sign of life to chase, but nothing.

Watching Rosie and the empty street, I realize I should have dressed a bit warmer. The wind rips through my layers and the snowflakes pelt my face, turning to freezing water once they land on my skin. It is probably best to start walking rather than stand, motionless, exposing myself to the frosty elements. Slowly and cautiously I head west, toward Lake Champlain, down the un-shoveled sidewalk. I turn right onto Church Street, the normally bustling-pedestrian-promenade. Here I am protected from the wind, in a tunnel of restaurants, boutiques, bars and coffee shops. The snow is untouched and I have to lift my foot high to traipse through the 8 or so inches that have already fallen.

Rosie and I make fresh tracks as we work our way up the slightly inclined promenade. Mine uniform, hers scattered. We pass by the frosted store window of Sweet Lady Jane where I spend too much of my money on earrings and sweaters. Past upscale Leunigs, a French Bistro where the only thing I can afford to eat is breakfast. The OGE, an outdoor gear enthusiasts paradise. And through the line up of bars, Half Lounge, Red Square, RiRa, places I frequent far too regularly.

At the top of the street I pause. To the left is the lake- the Adirondack Mountains hidden behind a curtain of snow. To the right a steep climb up to the University. I stand at the top of Church Street and look down on this small part of my city that has been transformed overnight.  The snow absorbs all sound and the flakes continue to fall, white and pure, on every surface. In this brief moment the world is put on hold and I appreciate the beauty that surrounds me on this unexpected snowy morning in Vermont.

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Women’s Travel Fest: San Francisco 2015

Women are the biggest group of decision-makers in the United States travel industry, yet millions of women are intimidated to travel by themselves and choose simply to stay home. A ground-breaking event called the Women’s Travel Fest is here to help change that.

After the 2014 inaugural Women’s Travel Fest sold-out to over 350+ women in New York City, the event is moving to San Francisco Feb. 28-March 1, 2015 to inspire, empower and connect women through travel. The Women’s Travel Fest is a consumer event that helps women to explore the world and discover deeper meaning in their travels.

This year’s festival has been expanded to a two-day event, offering opportunities for smaller break-out sessions on more focused travel segments (LGBTQ travel, Family Travel, Travel Writing, etc ), in addition to a main day event that includes a marketplace and keynotes by some of the travel industry’s leading ladies. Schedule below.

This year’s keynote speakers include: Laura Ling, award-winning journalist who spent 140 days imprisoned in North Korea; Patricia Schultz, international best-selling author of 1,000 places To See Before You Die; and Felicity Aston, the first and only woman to cross-country ski Antarctica solo.

The Women’s Travel Fest (sponsored by Expedia) will go beyond the boundaries of your average travel event, giving women newfound travel connections and empowering them to take on the world. Topics of discussion include everything from travel logistics to women’s health and safety abroad.

The event also includes a travel marketplace with vendors & giveaways, lunch, a happy hour designed for optimum networking, and a kick-off party on Friday, February 27th to help celebrate a weekend of women in travel. Get your ticket now at www.WomensTravelFest.com !

 

10:00 am – 10:15 am

 

 

 

Intro & Welcome

We’re so glad you’re here! Now, let’s get this party started right!

10:15 am – 11:45 am

 

 

 

Go Further For Less: Budget Travel Tips

What are the tricks pros use to score cheap flights? How can you have an amazing adventure on a limited budget? What’s an easy way to score miles and rack up points without going into debt? In this awesome panel you’ll find out all this and more from travel pros  Deidre Mathis, author & traveler who spent 12 months traveling on 10k, Courtney Scott, senior editor for Travelocity, and Kaeli Conforti, digital editor at Budget Travel magazine. They’ll share all, so you get on the road faster!

  

11:15 am – 12:00 pm

 

 

 

Staying Safe Abroad

Safety is one of the biggest concerns women have when traveling the world, and in this panel, we’ll talk openly and honestly about staying safe abroad. What tools can you use to keep safe? What issues do you need to think about when it comes to your health? Get first-hand tips from Natasha Bhuyan, M.D., who will talk about women’s health issue & address the Ebola scare with hard facts.

12:15 pm – 1:00 pm

 

 

 

Kicking Ass in Antarctica with Felicity Aston

British explorer Felicity Aston is the first and only woman in the world to ski across Antarctica alone. The 1084-mile, 59-day journey completed in January 2012 also made her the first person in the world to do so purely by muscle power without the aid of kites or machines. ‘Outside Magazine’ – the most popular adventure sport magazine in the US – named her a 2012 Adventurer of the Year and in 2014 she was presented with the Women of Discovery Courage Award.

How cool is that?!

1:00 pm – 1:45 pm

 

 

 

Lunch

Enjoy a tasty lunch and take this time to get to know the awesome women around you.  Visit our global marketplace, where vendors are offering more information on travel-related products and services and hosting lots of fun giveaways!

2:00 pm – 2:45 pm

 

 

 

Travel the World with Patricia Schultz

Patricia Schultz is the author of the international bestsellers 1,000 Places to See Before You Die (now with over 3 million copies in print and translated into 25 languages) and 1,000 Places to See in the United States and Canada Before You Die. A veteran travel journalist with over 25 years of experience, she has written for The Wall Street Journal, Everyday with Rachel Ray, and Travel Weekly. She also executive-produced a Travel Channel television show based on her book 1,000 Places to See Before You Die. Her home base is New York City.

3:00 pm – 3:45 pm

 

 

 

Dangerous Territory with Laura Ling, Paula Froelich & Julia Cosgrove

In this important and relevant discussion, we will discuss traveling to remote areas, and the challenges and triumphs that come with it. This roundtable discussion will include journalist Laura Ling, Paula Froelich, editor-in-chief of Yahoo! Travel and creator of the A Broad Abroad series, and Julia Cosgrove, EIC of AFAR magazine, and will talk about some destinations that are considered “dangerous” or taboo- and debunk those myths. Skiing in Afghanistan? Trekking in Nepal? It’s a big, beautiful world. We’ll get you thinking about out-of-the-box destinations in a whole new light, and have you ready to plan a trip some place you’ve never thought of!

 

4:00pm – 4:45 pm

 

 

 

Breaking Free to Travel: Changing the Landscape

In this inspiring, empowering panel, we’ll talk with women who have overcome obstacles in order to travel the world. For some, that means making the bold choice to leave dead-end jobs or marriages. For others, it means breaking the stereotype of the stay-at-home mom and embracing life, and travel, with your kids. This important and powerful panel is great for reminding you that life is what you make it–and that the world is just waiting for you to explore it.

5:00 pm – 6:30 pm

 

 

 

It’s time to Paaaartay!

We’ve covered almost everything today, now it’s time to relax! Enjoy our open bar and network with other like-minded ladies as we host giveaways, celebrate strong women and plot our next adventures!

First Women’s Travel Fest: March 8, 2014 in NYC

HOW DID THIS GET STARTED?

The Women’s Travel Fest is a one-day event that aims to inspire & empower women to travel the world, and help them make newfound travel connections.

The idea was born in 2011 while founder Kelly Lewis was on a press trip in Thailand along with Jerri Stephenson of Do It While You’re Young. Both women’s travel writers, the two started wondering why a festival like this had never been done, but it wasn’t until 2013, after Kelly had completed a successful cross-country book tour, that the wheels began turning.

While on tour, Kelly connected with women of all ages (from 12-82!) who were in different phases of life but were equally as interested in finding out more about traveling safely. She heard the same thing over and over again, “I want to travel, but…” and as she worked her way across the country, the inspiration and energy that came from these discussions gave her goosebumps.

 

Kelly Lewis: Founder 

Originally from Hawaii, Kelly is the founder of Go! Girl Guides, which publishes the world’s first series of travel guidebooks made just for women. The company was created in early 2011 and is dedicated to helping women travel the world safely and affordably. Go! Girl Guides has published titles on Thailand, Mexico, Argentina and London, with titles on NYC and Costa Rica forth-coming.

 

 

 

 Mickela Mallozzi: Director

Originally the assistant to one of the world’s most famous metal rock bands (Slipknot), Mickela quit her job to start a journey around the world, taking her camera with her to follow dance in the lives of everyday people wherever she went. She is the host and producer of Bare Feet™ , a travel/dance web series where she ‘experiences the world, one dance at a time.’  She is a classically trained dancer as well as a trained musician and is very much inspired by folk dances from around the globe. Mickela and the Bare Feet™ web series have been featured in The New York Times, Dance Magazine, Yahoo! Travel, Travel + Escape, American Express, AFAR Media, Matador, Expedia, Travelocity and more!  She has performed on various television shows including Sesame Street, The Doctor Oz Show, TBS’s Movie and a Makeover, and she has performed in prestigious venues such as Central Park’s Summer Stage and the Kaufmann Concert Hall.

 

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Half-light in Israel

Concave apricot slices are belly up towards the desert sky, their wet insides unaware of the drought to come. In three days time, they’ll shrivel to brown. Lulu and I have just finished spreading hundreds of these slices on four white tables, singing Hebrew nursery rhymes all the while, laughing as I echoed her words.

For two weeks now, I’ve been volunteering on the Arazuni Family Farm, located in a small Israeli town called Ezuz. I’m not sure if I can call it a town, really—it’s more of a collection of stone slabs and metal sheets slapped together to create a charming, ramshackle cohesion in the middle of the desert. Each home is a haven of shade, with flat roofs extending far beyond the borders of walls made of mud bricks and old buses transformed into living spaces. There’s no corner store here because there are no corners—just a circle of families vying for the simplest life.

As soon as I’ve secured the mesh screen over the apricots to keep the flies from feasting, I race back to the volunteer cabin and slip out of my farm clothes. The cabin is a converted train car that houses three of us: Laurette, a French woman who follows Bob Dylan on tour around the world, filling gaps between shows by volunteering on farms; Tom, an aquaculture specialist from Hawaii who’s travelled far from the sea, searching for something only found in open air; and me, a twenty-one year old student who fled to the desert between semesters to escape a life of appointments. I peel back layers of dirt and replace them with a clean Yankees shirt, grab my notebook, and head a half-kilometer to my favorite rock, hoping I didn’t miss the show.

I’ve claimed my rock among the hundreds lining the path, carving its contours from the sandscape. I mount it, loving it for its plateau top, for its cratered form, for its strong stoneness supporting me, for this earth supporting me. I stretch my legs out before me to welcome the sweet soreness now streaming through my thighs and calves—sweet like the plums I picked this morning, when the sky mirrored a dim purple. All through the day, I said to myself: This is how my body was meant to work—not hunching over an office desk, but stretching and reaching for the pear from the highest branch, or squatting to search for the ripest eggplant hiding beneath tangled stems.

While out in the orchard or the greenhouse, my mind tends to wander: what will I do with my life? What can I offer to this planet? Will today’s lunch be hummus or goat cheese? To these questions I have few answers, so I turn them off and reach into the depth of memory, hoping to find something more tangible: poetry. I repeat the handful poems that accompany me wherever I travel, reciting them to the coriander beds: Forever – is composed of Nows – and hope they can understand Emily Dickinson’s wisdom. But then, I admire their patience in the hot sun, and wonder if they understand her words better than I do.

And tonight, I’m reminded of Yeats’ sky—of night and light and the half-light—as I glance over my left shoulder to watch the sun’s descent. It feels like a crime to take my eyes off the scene to write what I’m witnessing—to slice the stillness with my pen—but I feel a duty to store this sky in ink, to save it for storm clouds. Telephone poles and wires fail to frame boundless rays of pink and purple. In the foreground, rocks and brush are steeped in amber. Above my right shoulder, a faint moon gets bolder against a deep blue, rising higher and higher, as if lifted by the heavy sun at the end of an invisible pulley.

Back in Manhattan, I don’t look at the sun the same way as I do in Ezuz. Seeing the sun in the desert is like running into an old friend out of context and suddenly noticing all the intricacies of his face. I watch in wonder as the sun sinks down before me, enwrought with golden and silver light, burning with a fervor matched by my gaze. And when it finally disappears behind the sand dunes, I slide off my rock, dusty toes hitting the earth, comforted by the tender desert air and the astounding knowledge that this has happened, and will happen, forever.

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

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So, what’s culture shock?

Enjoy this excerpt from Culture Shock – A Practical Guide by H.E. Rybol

A Matter of Perception

Culture shock is often talked about in terms of symptoms or phases. It’s about a series of ups and downs. It’s important to acknowledge those feelings because they are a gateway to what lies beneath, but we shouldn’t forget to dig deeper. So to begin with, here are feelings travelers might experience when going through culture shock:

alienated
alienated from our own culture
angry
anxious
at peace
confronted with our own limits
confronted with yourself
curious
disconnected
easily annoyed
excited
feel like your personal space is being intruded upon

©H.E. Rybol

feeling of familiarity
feeling out of place
free
full of anticipation
fully alive
guilty
happily overwhelmed
happy
in touch with yourself
inexplicably connected
insecure
interested
irritated
isolated
judgmental
lonely
nervous
numb
on edge
raw
sad
scared
shocked
stressed
tired
torn
uncomfortable
vulnerable

A Moment of Growth

As I see it, this is only the surface. What lies beneath this emotional roller coaster?

1. we need to process a lot of new information

2. we need to process our reaction to that information

Adaptation consists of digesting all of that. On the way, we are led to put our whole lives into perspective, question what we know and assume, and learn new ways of functioning to attempt to understand another culture and ourselves within it. Culture shock strips us from our comforts straight down to our core, puts us eye to eye with our basic needs and propels us into a moment of accelerated growth. We slowly begin to make sense of all the new sights, sounds, smells, tastes and textures. We learn about this place we didn’t know before, about people’s lives and we attempt to understand our relation to both.

So, in its essence, the experience of culture shock is a profound shift in consciousness. How does that shift take place?

Often our ideas and the reality we find sur place don’t match. There is a dissonance on multiple levels that can feel threatening because some of our basic assumptions and abilities might be challenged. What do I eat? Where do I sleep? Who do I connect with? Where do I belong? Will it be safe? We question our abilities to meet some of our basic needs.

Then of course we also wonder about our new surroundings: What is there to see? What are the stories behind it? How do they reflect local beliefs? What do people think? What do I think? The list is endless.

To get through culture shock, we need to reconcile the information we’re getting with our own reactions, thoughts (in the shape of ideas, preconceived notions, expectations, hopes, cultural background) and personal needs, and adapt our thoughts and reactions to that information as well. We need to let go of preconceived notions to make room for reality.

So essentially, by learning to live in another culture we…

confront our own boundaries (cultural, self-imposed or other)
question ourselves
confront our own notion of personal space
confront our own way of relating to other people
redefine our need for comfort
learn about our need for control
develop a stronger sense of self
confront our own prejudices and biases, and those of others
see our own roots and culture with different eyes…and so on.It is a raw but exhilarating experience. One of the wonderful things about culture shock is that it brings us back to basics. It is a reminder of what’s essential.

Of course, the essential is sometimes clouded by our perception of everything surrounding it. So when it feels like we suddenly don’t control anything, everything around us simply happens and we’re not quite sure how to manage, it’s important to realize what we can control: our own behavior and attitude. Through both we can learn to meet material and emotional needs at a time when meeting those needs is not a given and we don’t necessarily have many resources to do so.

In this sense, simple actions also have a deeper effect beyond the immediate relief they may bring. They help us tune into our core, handle change, connect across cultures and become aware of others and ourselves.

In the end, culture shock is about growth. It teaches us compassion, kindness and gratitude. So what matters is what we learn and how we act and change as a result of that experience. But we can only grow and learn if we take responsibility for our experiences, reactions, perceptions, behavior, thinking, beliefs and interactions.

In this sense, experiencing culture shock is a gift that helps us find our story within a world of stories and understand how all are connected.

©2014 H.E. Rybol

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Indonesia: The Village Road to Luxury

As the car turns left from some joint in the Tabanan Regency of Bali, we get a feeling of entering a best-kept secret land which is actually not that far away. A Balinese village atmosphere beams right in front of us. The temporary stupas in front of the temples stand tall and elongated made of thatch leaves. Entrance gates to houses have a divinity attached to them, modelled after the structure of Balinese Hindu temples. A couple of convenience stores are juxtaposed between temples and houses. The road lies ahead, so empty barring a vendor woman who carries a basketful of food on her balancing head and a tiny boy on his tricycle precariously riding on the asphalt.

 We have crossed a few kilometres and the left and the right sides open up. No more houses and no more temples. Lush paddy fields, randomly cultivated banana trees here and there and some lined up coconut trees on the alleys between the fields become our stock scenery for the next fifteen to twenty minutes. It’s around 9 am in the morning and the strengthening sunlight spreads its gleam on the green fields so fluently that we can even monitor the tiny birds looting the humans’ hard-earned crop. Not far away from the birds the ladies in the fields do not mind the looters’ daylight ravaging. We only see the ladies’ conical shaped hats clearly as they lean down, busy collecting the crops.

 Our destination is the acres-long property of Alila Villas Soori which lies on the verge of the Indian Ocean and at the end of this calm and peaceful village. But what we are passing by at the moment makes us skeptical and we feel like gullible little children. More sights of paddy fields and lonesome arecanut trees force a question out of us: are we being taken for a ride? The driver holds the steering wheel very professionally; he might have been here a hundred times. But much to our surprise, he brakes, at a Frostian diverging of two roads. Without disturbing us he takes out his mobile phone and makes a call, probably to our villa. Speaking in a very soft voice he makes sure that he got his vista right.

 We resume our journey, along the fields and the trees. The distant farmers, specks on the green fields, have probably started accumulating beads of sweat on their bodies. We had not in our mind one of those off-the-beaten-path expeditions where travellers usually hope to get lost and fumble into serendipitous moments. All we had been waiting for was to dip into the private pool, laze in the heavenly bedroom and spread our wearied bodies in the bubble-floating bath-tub of our million-dollar valued villa. Then, to realise the walking on the black sand beach which we had been savouring from the glossy pictures on the brochure.

 The car takes several turns in quick succession and every turn gives a slideshow of the same sights we have been passing by. We are tempted to ask the driver.

 “Do we need to ask some locals here?”

 “No need. It’s another few kilometres”, he assures us without turning back.

 We reach a cul-de-sac with a wall in front jutting out into the street. We see the name Alila written in the same font as on their website. Our skepticism gives way to impatience. We cannot wait to check in and be three-day residents in a regal villa.

 

 Once inside Alila’s courtyard, we forget the way we took. The sarong-clad ladies escort us to our beach-pool villa. On our walk, we pass by a garden, an infinity pool and a soothing view of the ocean in the background. This is the very place we wanted to be in to get cut away from files, deadlines and desks. We jump into our private pool and the touch of the water affects our feelings salubriously. The jasmine flowers from the adjacent plants keep falling on the pool intermittently. They deck the water’s edges and float in the ripples from our gliding movements.

 We feel being on a vantage point from where we could charm ourselves with the endless sight of the ocean on one side and the green fields and the mountains on the other. Each morning, we take a stroll, either among the fields or on the black sand beach which leads to a temple on a clifftop. The calmness felt is a gift that you cannot buy anywhere near you. The villa, how soothing they are! They are luxurious, yet do not try to entice people by boasting of glitters that is associated with sheer luxury.

 At the barbecues on the evenings, we savour the best of steaks, ogling the deep red horizon that is ours.

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

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Bright Lights, Big City in the USA

I have always been interested in both film and music and the way the creative process works for both, but was unable to choose which brought more passion to my life.  It wasn’t until I started back at college, this past year, to complete my degree, that things started to turn around.  It has taken me ten years, due to many financial struggles and lack of confidence in myself, for me to be able to finally get back into school. Taking my Intro to Theatre class, and being introduced to If/Then’s soundtrack at the same time, something just “clicked” inside and I finally knew what I wanted to do with my life.  From that moment on, and every day since, I have felt such a strong desire to become involved with the workings of theatre and music. I want to help bring original musicals to Broadway (similar to RENT and If/Then) and share the joy they have brought to my life with others.

Like Idina Menzel’s character, Elizabeth, I am also in my thirties and looking to start anew. I connect with the song, “No more wasted time” on a deep level for this reason.  I want to start my life bigger and better than ever and stop living “stuck”. I need to stop living life waiting for it to get better. I need to take charge of it and take risks to better my future.  I have tried living in small towns in various states along the east coast with no avail.  Even with fresh starts, something was always missing.

I feel New York City is that missing piece.  It is a place full of possibilities.  Even just the idea of the city at this point, gives me the strength and hope I need to keep plugging away at my dream.  It is where I will be able to be my true self and not have to look back on what could have been.  Although I have been there before, I will be traveling there for my birthday with a whole different outlook and excitement for the city.  I will be able to submerge myself in the sights and culture, not just as a tourist, but as someone who will feel “at home” for the first time knowing that this is where I am meant to be, and what I am meant to do.

 I strongly believe that this is my time to shine.  The song says “No more wasted time, not one more day.” That is something I have been trying to live by ever since.  I constantly am reminding myself that it doesn’t matter what setbacks I come across, as long as I follow my passion and my dream, anything is possible.  Taylor Swift’s new song, “Welcome to New York”, has also stuck with me since this revelation for my future.  The lyrics:

Everybody here wanted something more

Searching for a sound we hadn’t heard before

And it said

Welcome to New York

It’s been waiting for you

 

add to the feeling of this beautiful city calling to me.   New York City, theatre, If/Then, and the music of Idina Menzel and Taylor Swift have helped continue to inspire me every day to never give up. I have never felt or wanted something so strongly for my life before.  For that, I will forever be grateful to the city of New York and the magic of theatre for giving me a new purpose and a positive outlook on life again.  “No more wasted time. No more holding back”.  I am ready to live my life the way it was meant to be!

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

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Moonplay in Egypt

 

Moonplay in Egypt

We were lounging in a felucca on the Nile River, ripples of eternal water lapping at the sides of this sailboat of ancient design. We were waiting, and some were getting tired of waiting. The tour guide—young, handsome, and rather sexy—and another member of the tour group—also young, attractive, and rather voluptuous—had disappeared together. The sun was setting. Earlier, at mid-day, the sun sent beams like slender arms stretching through the clouds to touch the desert sands. Now, at sunset, the night also reached out, in a husky dark embrace. The wind had already subsided, leaving the sailboat bereft on the river waters.

The wind had died down, but the anger of my fellow passengers had flared up. The tour guide’s disappearance had thrown us off schedule. We were missing the dinner meal which was at this very moment being served back at the hotel.

At last the pair appeared. She stepped into the craft and became anonymous. He was propelled into the boat by threatening looks and mumbled resentments.

The Nubian sailor whose able hands had delicately loosened and tautened the sailboat ropes earlier in the day now settled down to the oars. He threw his back into the task, and, although he was strong and robust, we could see his hands would quickly become raw. The others looked upon the man with pity, but his only response was a shrug and an “En sha Allah” (“As God wills”). The resentment thickened. Some passengers openly spat verbal darts across the vessel in the direction of the tour guide, who took a turn at the oars to appease them. Guiltily.

I settled further back into the hull of the felucca. The night was black as pitch now, but a full moon had risen, an enormous hovering lunar disk which skimmed lightly over a row of date palms that lined the Nile shore. The disk chased us in the boat, slowing and speeding in unison with us. It examined every inch of us with frank curiosity, and even winked at us a time or two. I winked back. We admired each other.

But the others never saw. Anger and resentment directed and restricted their line of vision horizontally. They never looked up. They missed the moonplay entirely.

Want to read more from Terry Lee: Click here for her books: Chalkboard Heroes, and Chalkboard Champions!

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A Celebration in Pebble Beach

The bright green, perfectly manicured grass illuminates the giant pink and white rose petal heart, and a guitarist strumming a Beatles Love Song amplifies the cheesiness of the situation to everyone within earshot. I stand, dizzy with anticipation and sweating despite it being a comfortable 65 degrees, on the deck overlooking the 18th tee of Pebble Beach Golf Course. My mother and father are renewing their wedding vows today, on their 30th anniversary. My mother is radiating with giddy anticipation, and my father is nervous and excited in the quiet way that only those close to him can distinguish.

The whole family traveled from all corners of the US to celebrate this momentous occasion. I am proud and excited, yet at the same time want to run for the hills.

As we stand there waiting to be called down, paraded in front of hundreds of strangers, the weather begins to change. The sunny California day seems to be changing with my emotions. The Pacific ocean turning from calm to rocky, as grey clouds quickly move in casting shadows on the monstrous houses that line the coast.

Wanting to make sure this wedding happens before rain comes in, the wedding planner waves us down.

I try not to notice all of the people watching us from the deck of the Pebble Beach Restaurant. My boyfriend touches my back, comfortingly urging me forward. He knows how much I despise unwanted attention. Without that slight push, I am not sure I would have the courage to march across the green with so many eyes on me. My sister parades to the heart like she owns the place, as I slowly and self-consciously make my way across one of the most famous golf courses in the world.

The wedding planner, beaming with faux happiness, dangles a garland of flowers intended for me, and drapes it across my head. Pink, white, red and yellow roses adorn my head. The scent of freshly cut flower overwhelms my senses, yet does not do a thing to calm my nerves. Photos are snapped, I force a fake smile.

My sister, skinny, blonde, and perfect in every way, stands next to me. Chest proud, shoulders relaxed, smug. I look her up and down, trying not to compare myself to her like I do at every family gathering. I, the older sister, aspire to be like her. Thin, confident, and dripping with an “I don’t care what you think” attitude.

From the outside, no one would know the self-conscious turmoil bubbling inside me. I look put together, though on the inside I am anything but. Travel has been my escape and a key element in teaching me about myself and all that I am capable of. As I make my way around the world, my self-confidence grows with each new adventure. This trip, I tell myself, is just another stepping-stone toward positive growth.

So, I try to change my thoughts from negative to positive as the guitarist begins to play Alan Jackson’s country ballad ‘Remember When’, signaling the start of the ceremony. My mother and father stand in the center of that cheesy flower heart holding hands.

As the minister speaks his words, words about love and acceptance and happiness, I try as hard as I can to focus on my parents; my mother-beaming, and my normally stoic father-red in the face and crying.

I look around at where I am and what I am doing. One of the most beautiful golf courses, on one of the most beautiful stretches of land in the world. Even with the changing weather, the deep blue of the ocean collides with the bright green grass and brightens everything, including my attitude.

All of the distractions surrounding us; the people watching, the golfers playing, the ocean waves crashing, blur.

It is here in this blur, surrounded by love and beauty, that I am grateful. The love of my family, coupled with the beauty of the celebration and nature around us, allows me to finally throw out all of the negative thoughts that occupy my mind.

The ceremony ends and I walk with my head held high back to the deck. It is time to celebrate with a champagne toast and the sun, peaking through the clouds, just before it sets over the Pacific Ocean.

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Barbados Holidays

Does sipping on a cool cocktail on a nearly deserted, pure white sand beach with a turquoise blue ocean in front of you sound like a bucket list item?  If so, a Barbados Holiday is a great item to scratch off of your to-do-list.  Located just east of the Windward Islands in the Caribbean Sea, Barbados enjoys year round enjoyable tropical temperatures, which rarely, if ever dips below 70 degrees Fahrenheit (20 degrees Celsius).  Since the island is so small, a constant, cooling breeze blows over the entirety of the country.  This means that even though Barbados is tropical and is prone to heat, the constant wind means it never gets too unbearably hot.

What is there to do in Barbados besides sitting on the beach, relaxing the days away?  If you’re a diver, the diving all around the island is world class; offering nearly limitless destinations and endless opportunities to see an abundance of sea life.  Green, Hawksbill and Leatherback Turtles seemingly swarm around the island. There are loads of boat trips that’ll take you out to swim with them. Some combine the journey with a spot of snorkeling around the island’s reefs and wrecks, too. No matter what side of the island your hotel or resort is at, there is sure to be great diving nearby.

If water activities isn’t your thing and you would rather explore on foot, Barbados is excellent for hiking and sightseeing as well.  One particular destination that has fantastic panoramic views of the land is at Cherry Tree Hill.  The road that ascends to the summit wanders through a sugar cane plantation and as the road traverses up the hill, mahogany trees line the side of the road.   At 850 feet, (259 meters) the summit offers panoramic views of the surrounding areas.  On the way back down the hill, a stop off at the St. Nicholas Abbey Rum and distillery.  Here, rum is produced and you can take a tour and sample some of the best rum in the Caribbean!

For those who want to incorporate some city life into their vacation, the capital city of Bridgetown is a great place to explore a few days.  Here, there are a few museums that can take you back in time or markets to buy souvenirs for friends back home.  There are also churches, a harbor and other attractions that can make your stay more enjoyable.

It is clear that Barbados is the perfect destination and is a great place for people of all ages to enjoy.  From snorkeling or diving in the ocean to hiking and visiting rum distilleries, Barbados is a great place to escape for a few days, weeks or even months!

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