Lisa Niver's Blog: We Said Go Travel, page 335

USA: Reflection Return

Finding one spot where I’m filled with gratitude is incredibly hard. I’ve moved a lot, slept under various skies, eaten many different kitchens, and said “good morning!” in a few languages.  I’ve returned to places I had initially felt good, but found the scenery had changed. I’ve visited friends who at one time ignited a great sense of gratitude- but then, people change too.  Nowadays, I find gratitude in not a place or person, but rather in the act of returning home.

Home. Not where you go for the holidays, or the rom-com cliché, “home is where the heart is,“ because often, that’s complicated.  It’s much simpler: home is the place you are returning.  Anyone who lists traveling as a passion has, at some level, a devotion to uncertainty. One travels to experience something new, taste something different, to hear something unfamiliar. With us, not knowing is a gift and testing our adaptability is thrilling.  When I embark, there’s a sense of wonder, curiosity and though my feet haven’t touched the ground, I’m so ready to run.

The journey, of course, is great. I saw it, smelled it, touched it, bought a t-shirt and took a picture. But the real power of the trip is in the return to the familiar.  That period of return limbo, where I’m not quite anywhere, is often reflective.  I sit with my thoughts, going over the funny bits, the weird parts, and how infuriating it is to be lost at night.  I also think about who I met, what I discovered, and how being lost isn’t really that bad. Then, I think about what’s next.  Invariably, I’ve been changed. I am stronger.

These moments of reflection result in what I’m going to do better; how I can cook with more spice, be more patient with foreigners, learn how to navigate without Google Maps, dress in more layers, show more kindness to airport staff.  I make lists, lots of lists.  My mind races and I’m excited to change.  In these return flights, I recognize how lucky I am to have a bed with my name on it, and how, even at the most basic level, I’ve just exercised the beautifully human instinct of exploration. I am free.

Disembarking typically feels good. Landing stateside after weeks abroad, it’s hard to not smile.  I am reminded that yes, smiling at strangers can simply be a nice thing to do human-to-human. A “howdy!” can simply be an acknowledgement, not a direct link to uncomfortable confrontation.  During those few minutes from gate door to airport exit, I can’t decide whether to walk slowly in order savor the last moments of the unknown or run so that I can start practicing my newly discovered life hacks. Even if it’s not a southern hospitality airport and it’s the basic, green carpeted, forever unchanging airport, recognizing home turf feels awesome. And, whether I’m jumping in or climbing out, I’m thankful it exists in a huge world of spectacular chaos; gratitude is in the returning.

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

The post USA: Reflection Return appeared first on We Said Go Travel.

Be Brave & Lisa on Nasdaq: Jan News WSGT

We Said Go Travel Newsletter 59: Jan. 27, 2014
























































Happy 2015! I hope your January has been filled with progress on your resolutions.


My trip to Bermuda as a travel host for Orbitz and White Nile Media was picked up by Nasdaq.

 I like this part:
“Orbitz Originals: Bermuda – Proper Fun a seven-part online video series that is co-hosted by award-winning travel experts Richard Bangs and Lisa Ellen Niver.” The videos will be available soon!

With the We Said Go Travel Global Alliance, I ran a social media campaign for Luxe Hotels for six days, we did TWELVE MILLION IMPRESSIONS! If you need help with social media, I am available! Ask me questions!





















I skied at Park City Mountain Resort this month with my family.





















Please join in my 7th Travel Writing Contest aboutBravery. Please share a story about a place that inspires you to be brave and save the day.

In Chris Brogan‘s, It’s Not About the Tights: An Owners Manual on Bravery, he shares his definition of bravery as “not being afraid of yourself.”

He says: “You’ve got to use whatever past you came from as part of the origin story that shapes the hero you will become. Welcome to day one. You are the superhero you’ve been waiting for.”  Enter now!

My recent article about Bravery: “YOU ARE THE AUTHOR OF YOUR STORY. YOU ARE THE HERO YOU’VE BEEN WAITING FOR. ACCEPT THAT YOU’RE THE ONE WHO WILL SOLVE YOUR CHALLENGES, AND THAT YOU ARE THE RIGHT PERSON FOR THE TASK.”






Read More





















Thank you for all your support!

Winners of the sixth writing contest (Fall 2014 Gratitude Travel Writing Contest) will be announced soon.

​ Connect with me on Facebook,  Google+, Instagram, LinkedIn, Pinterest,  SlideShare,  Twitter, and YouTube.

Happy January! Lisa (Click here to sign up for this newsletter. )

Thank you for watching my WSGT YouTube channel which is now over 290,000 views! Enjoy movies from Los Angeles, Bermuda,  Puerto Rico, Palau, Guam, Hawaii, India as well as Bali and Lombok  Indonesia,  Southern Thailand, Myanmar (Burma), and Nepal.  To find all 330 Videos: click here for the WSGT YouTube Channel. I am over 1000 followers on Pinterest, and up to 602 subscribers on YouTube!

Read More

The post Be Brave & Lisa on Nasdaq: Jan News WSGT appeared first on We Said Go Travel.

Nigeria: My school My tale

My admission to a State University made me a somewhat traveler. From my house to School was a two hours journey which I do almost every week. My admission was a thing of joy. Running out from the computer village where I checked my result and straight to our house, in high spirits, my heart leaped in joy and my eyes blazed in happiness.

I got home and met Dad and Mum sitting in the parlor of our two rooms. I gave dad the printed result but he was happy and sad. I knew he must have considered tuition fees and the rest. His face grew pale, he held the result but said nothing.

Somehow, we managed to raise the money. Anyways, friends and well wishers also contributed. We started preparations to leave for school and after all the arrangements before I left, Dad came to me and said ‘ Gratitude could turn a meal into a feast’. These words inspired me.

I have always felt strong, Inspired and hopeful. Although things are not working all well now, I know there is still hope ~ its a matter of time.

Coming out from my house, I boarded a cab that took me to a park. The fare was very expensive compared to what I was given. I had to look for an alternative. I decided to toodle towards school and lucky enough, I met a parked white turned brown bus. The lights were bad, a string was used to tie the door to the roof of the bus. It meant that if you are inside, the door could not be opened unless the driver stops to open it himself.

Inside the bus was dusty, bonny and over-adjusted. I sat in the middle of two women and I bet you they smelled like skunks. One of the women asked where I was going and I said school and she asked again why didn’t I take a bus from the park? So I said money was the issue mar. She kept quiet for some time and said she doesn’t have anything and as I could see, she was coming from the market. She dipped her hand in a bag brought a small polythene bag and gathered some tomatoes from the basket under her seat and gave it to me. Well, I thanked her and remembered my Dad ‘Gratitude could turn a meal into a feast’

Soon, I got to my school gate. The sun smiled happily and the heat was felt by all. I dropped my luggage in my hostel and headed to my department. My journey was hectic, students moved up and down the school and the tension was high. As a new intake, I had complications with my course registration and my name was removed from the list of first year students in my department.

In confusion, I went to see our Head of Department. Although we have heard stories about him being a strict man who could easily walk you out of his office if you minced words talking to him.

I sat on the cushion in my department wanting to see him. My heart skipped in threes, fours and even fives if I counted well. Sometimes I could just here the beats. When he came out from the secretary’s office, my heart leaped outside my shirt I had to control myself. When he came closer, I calmly gretted good morning sir and presented a spurious smile. Lucky me! the reciprocity was amazing. Smiling back at me he replied good morning and asked how I was doing. Nervously, I replied fine thank you sir.

We walked to his office and he asked me in gave me a seat and asked what the problem was. After narration, it was rectified and I was happy again.

I stood up to leave and said thank you sir for your kindness, time and simplicity. So I made way to the door. Before I got to the door, he called back at me with a smile and asked me to sit down. I wondered if I have offended him. He asked my name again and my State. He said its been long since a student added simplicity to there thanking. He was happy and encouraged my attitude of gratitude and we have been friends. I remembered the words of my father ‘Gratitude could turn a meal into a feast’.

Great men are made by words, soothing words could break the strongest bones. I realised that words of gratitude are good seeds; gradually they work their way to the surface changing hearts, attitudes, futures and minds. Bringing peace, joy and reconciliation. Its a matter of time.

 

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

The post Nigeria: My school My tale appeared first on We Said Go Travel.

Iao Valley, USA

Iao Valley

The chilled stream, which traverses through peaceful botanical gardens in the depths of Iao Valley, once turned a vibrant crimson from the bleeding bodies of fallen soldiers. In 1790 Kamehameha I, in an attempt to unite the Hawaiian Islands, battled Kalanikupule, leader of Maui and Maui’s army. Maui’s army, equipped only with spears and rocks, proved an infantile challenger to the muskets, bows and arrows, and canons that Kamehameha I’s army brought. Even though Maui’s army was victim to a slaughter, the geography of Iao Valley extended the fighting time.

The Iao Needle, Kuka’emoku, proudly stands in the center of the valley and provides a 360-degree view. Kuka’emoku once connected to the West Maui Mountains that roam the coastline, but heavy rainfall has eroded the surrounding sediment. Iao Valley is one of the wettest places in the U.S., rivaling only Mt. Wai’ale’ale on Kauai. The 1,200-foot spire is the last survivor of that battle. While it provided a vantage point for Maui’s army, the soldiers lacked the weaponry to successfully counter Kamehameha’s persistent attacks.

It’s difficult to fathom the macabre history of this valley because of its present lush, manicured beauty. Sturdy guava trees arch over the stream, occasionally dropping fruit for guppies and crayfish. Various species of heliconia dangle amid the bounty of banana palms, which are like the shoji screens of the forest. From the palm trees to the myriad orchids, Iao Valley breathes life that was once taken away from it. While exploring the trails reveals Dr. Seuss-like floral scenes, visitors fail to notice the valley’s tender scars. I have stood in Kepaniwai (damming of the waters) the stream that was duly named because of the bodies that dammed the water. The water is fresh and calm, yet can transform into a vicious, rushing river in a matter of minutes because of the severe rainfall.

Reaching the summit of Kuka’emoku, while not an arduous journey, is incredibly rewarding. Umbrella trees shade the valley’s floor, Haleakala, Maui’s 10,000-foot tall dormant volcano, ascends into the clouds to the west, and if fog isn’t haunting the valley, the ocean is visible. I can’t even imagine the fear those Maui soldiers had, watching from the top of Kuka’emoku as the enemy swarmed the sacred valley. Could they have known that it would one day surpass the beauty before the battle took place? Perhaps they only hoped that it would be treated with the respect it deserved.

 

The state of Hawaii now protects Iao Valley, where visitors flock to in order to hike muddy trails and explore the luscious, botanical gardens. I am continually taken aback at the valley’s beauty each time I return. And seeing the glistening ocean, colored by sharp oranges of the sunset, from the top of Kuka’emoku proves that natural beauty still exists in the world. That view parallels the splendor of witnessing a green flash at the culmination of a sunset. Even though the moment is brief, it’s an image that sticks in your mind forever. And then there’s an ounce of questioning of whether it will be as beautiful if you see it again. It’s unpredictable, but dwelling in the past clouds whatever beauty the future holds.

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

The post Iao Valley, USA appeared first on We Said Go Travel.

Malta: Dreaming of a Holiday?

Corinthia Hotel St Georges Bay, Malta

Does your New Year’s Resolution include travel? I want to go to the Corinthia Hotel St Georges Bay Malta and have dinner outside. This picture is practically making me drool! I have never been to Malta and I think I just might book by Feb 27, 2015  and stay at this luxury hotel for 50% off!

Corinthia Hotel Budapest

I loved my visit to Budapest but I did not stay here at the Corinthia Hotel Budapest. I have not been in Europe for awhile and this sale is making me think it is time to return. Wandering the streets in Europe after growing up in California has always made me feel that history books have come to life. Maybe that is what I need to do next.

Corinthia Hotel Lisbon

During my seven years of sailing the seven seas, I only spent one day in Portugal in the city of Lisbon. Returning there is on the top of my list of dreams. Staying at the Corinthia Hotel Lisbon for 50% off seems like a great match!

Corinthia Hotel St Petersburg

During one summer at sea, I spent many afternoons at St Catherine’s Palace in the gardens whenever we had a call in St. Petersburg. I remember the golden statues and it seems fitting to stay at the Corinthia St Petersburg with such a stunning lobby. I have to admit I am only going back there in summer!

If you dream about Big Ben in London, stay three nights but only pay for two at Corinthia Hotel London  thanks to the Corinthia Hotels Annual Sale.

Where will your dreams take you in 2015? Share your top wishes below–they might come true!

The post Malta: Dreaming of a Holiday? appeared first on We Said Go Travel.

Grateful for the Tides in Bermuda

Grateful for the Tides

As a child I spent much of my time in the summer splashing about in the shallows of Flatt’s Inlet in my sub-tropical island home of Bermuda.  On summer afternoons my parents would sit on the grass in the shade of swaying palm trees as my brother and I would seek sea critters in the tide-pools under the wooden pier.  Through the inlet, which averages one hundred feet across and six hundred feet in length, fresh seawater from the open ocean of Bermuda’s North Shore ebbs and flows with the tides to and from Harrington Sound, an inland marine lake.  Flanking the Inlet stand the storefronts and houses of the village, each painted a more vibrant color than the next.  The village, coupled with the intense turquoise of the crystal clear water and the emerald green vegetation growing alongside, creates a Technicolor feast for the eyes.

I am grateful to still live nearby and often drive past.  Sometimes I even stop to sit on the pier to watch the tides change.  Each day at high tide the waters speed up to funnel through the bridge at the entrance of the Sound, and at low tide the waters funnel back out through the Inlet and towards the open sea.  The currents can be so strong that rapids are created under the bridge and it can make for precarious swimming.  When the winds and currents are working in harmony, however, the water moves in such unison that it appears as if a piece of glass is resting on top, allowing you to see the sandy bottom of the Inlet, and all of its curious inhabitants.

I find that there is something uniquely calming about watching the sea, particularly at the Inlet.  Perhaps it is a primal urge to return to the mother of all life on our planet, to look to her for answers.  Currently, I am at a static place in my life, the calm between the tides.  The closing and opening of old and new chapters in life doesn’t happen as seamlessly as it does in novels, nor does change happen on a schedule like the tides.  For years I have been sowing the seeds of change for my next chapter, and I am hoping the harvest comes soon.  Needless to say the wait can be rather frustrating.  Nevertheless, as I sit to watch the waters flowing in and out of the Inlet, it reminds me that even when the tides are at a standstill, or even working against you, it is never for too long.  Even when struggling in the torrents of life I know that at some point, if I am patient, I will catch the current in the direction I wish to head.

Watching the changing of the tides also reminds me of the impermanence of life.  Over time, decades, centuries, and millennia, this inlet will be eroded, the sea eating its way through the limestone that makes up the Island.  As morbid a thought it is to understand what this means for my life, and the lives of those I love, it is recognizing this impermanence that implores me to appreciate and make the most of the borrowed time we have on this earth together.

I must remember that I am blessed beyond measure, as I am indeed guilty of taking my blessings for granted from time to time.  We don’t appreciate the sun until it rains, our health until we are sick, serenity until there is chaos, and we don’t truly appreciate people until they are gone.  So as I gaze upon the still waters I remind myself that in this idle phase of my life I have had the opportunity to spend time on my beautiful island home with my family and friends, and grow closer to them.  And for that I will be forever grateful.  For as long as I am able to I will return to the Inlet, and in the wind whistling through the palm frons, the smell of salt in the air, and the hum of boats puttering through will live the eternal summer of my childhood.  For as long as this inert period of my life lasts I will remember to appreciate the calm knowing that tides will soon turn, and the torrents of past will be nothing more than water under the bridge.

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

The post Grateful for the Tides in Bermuda appeared first on We Said Go Travel.

San Francisco, California – House of Travelers

Though I’ve been traveling for a year and a half and thought I would never stop, Europe was my first time backpacking in multiple cities for an extended period – I was no expert. I went plenty of nights without sleeping while stuck on fifteen hour bus rides, slept on at least thirty different surfaces in three months, got sick by unwisely drinking the tap water in Spain, and…when I returned, I was broke.

I could blame my negative account balance on the overseas withdrawal charges and ignore the extra gelato I got in France or the shopping I did in Amsterdam. But for the sake of maturity, let’s agree that I was a tad irresponsible on my first backpacking trip.

I started to question why I traveled. I got sick, I became the definition of broke, I never got adequate sleep, I never had privacy – a thousand reasons that made me want to take out a mortgage and stick a flag somewhere in San Francisco reading “I’M NORMAL NOW.” I was ready to give it all up, get a regular job and settle on a white picket fence dream.

Yet with November came another problem – my income wasn’t high enough yet to afford accommodation. So I turned to Couchsurfing. I’d done it a few times in Europe and had mostly great experiences, but an uncomfortable experience with my host in Marseille turned me off to the idea. However, I had no other choice.

I wasn’t looking forward to it – I didn’t want to socialize or sleep on interesting excuses for beds, or feel like I was traveling again. I was in my home base and trying to get my life back together, so the last thing I wanted was to feel like I was on the road again.

A smiling guy named Matt from St. Louis invited me in to my first Couchsurfing house of the month. The smell of marinating lamb filled my nostrils as he led me to the table to meet Mische from Germany, Akshay from India, Marco from Italy, Carol from Taiwan, and four or five other guests I became friends with over the next few days. Our host Elle came back a while later and introduced me to the house.

While sitting at the table eating some delicious lamb in the biggest group of Couchsurfers I’d ever stayed with, I felt calm. These were people who didn’t care how much money I made, who became giddy just thinking about the next city they’d be in, who could have just as much fun at a bar as they could talking about novels or hiking. I unpacked and untensed for the first time in a month – this was the first comfort I’d felt since returning to San Francisco, surrounded by strangers with a million different experiences under their belts and a common desire to see, do, and learn more. These were travelers, and I felt at home.

Suddenly, all the good memories from Europe resurfaced – seeing Norway’s countryside near Drammen, rainy days in Bergen, Dutch pancakes in Groningen, a quiet day at the Vieux Port in Marseille, the old streets of Cordoba. Even the bad memories became lessons for future trips, because I decided that first night of Couchsurfing in San Francisco that I could never give up traveling.

Why would I give up seeing all the beauty the world has to offer? The endless types of people I meet, the pride I feel when I progress in a new language, the new cuisine, the countless times getting lost and finding my way again…Because when you travel, you don’t just lose your way on a map and ask around to get back on track. You lose your entire way of life and relearn what it means to be human – that there’s much more to life than money and the bubble you might call home, and that kindness and smiles really are all you need.

Europe was not a failure as society was prepared to make me feel – it was simply boot camp for future travels and success in all areas of my life.

Normal? Mundane? Stable? I refuse. 2014 has had a plethora of ups and downs, but I am thankful for the entire year and the joy that traveling has brought me.

 

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

 

The post San Francisco, California – House of Travelers appeared first on We Said Go Travel.

On the Strangest Sea in the USA

Otters, half-covered in kelp and half-asleep, are floating in the briny seawater to our left. There are also brown, glistening sea lions basking on the brown, glistening rocks nearby, braying at biscuit-munching tourists and at each-other. And sea birds, squawking loudly, thrashing their wings overhead and underfoot. The ocean itself is wailing like a fiend all around us, slapping at the white, sturdy sides of our boat. It’s no wonder all sea-dwellers seem to shriek with abandon. They’d never be heard otherwise.

We’re landsmen, the lot of us. The vacillating of the boat has got a few of us looking green already. We’re cold, too — the wind’s whipping our noses reindeer red — and it’s early enough that the last dregs of sleep are still haunting our eyes. Beyond the chill and the torpor, though, there’s something else thundering under our skin like the boat’s engines roaring under the water. It’s writhing in our very blood, this feeling; it’s swelling like the frenzied water all around us. Childlike delight. We’re feverish with it, all of us out here on the Monterey Bay.

There are a lot of other boats in the marina, bobbing like harbour seals, but they seem to melt into the morning fog as our own moves out, away from the promenade and the brightly painted kiosks advertising fish hooks and crab meat. It’s just us and the ocean, then. Its waters stretch in every direction, pushing a muted California behind a veil of mist and vapour. We are puny and insignificant, settled atop the belly of this great colossus, but how wonderful we are at the same time — our pale fingers interlocked, our glasses stippled with sea-spray, our lips curving, curving, curving.

The tour guide’s voice is punctuated by the sputtering of static and waves, but it hardly matters. She’s talking about the ocean like it’s a cantata and she’s got the libretti stamped across her heart. Believing in magic is no Herculean task, here in this moment. Look! Even the grey whorls of the waves are starting to look like porpoises. In fact, it is almost as if we have found ourselves on the canvas of a great artist’s watercolour masterpiece: the entire world looks pale and ethereal and lovely.

The younger ones are tearing into crisp packets with stubby fingers. We’re lobbing coke bottles at each other and laughing, our teeth bared at the grey sky. We’re coming undone under the canopy of that same sky, over the mattress of the same ocean. We’re so much more awake than we have ever been before. It’s terrifying and it’s thrilling and –

It’s all stifled by a staccato intake of breath crackling over the intercom.

The sea lions have returned. Like us, they seem to have left their old selves behind, back by those rocks they built their kingdom on. They’re quiet, circling a stretch of water a hundred feet off the port side of the boat. Oh: it’s all so quiet. The surf is still, the sea birds are sombre, and even the children look sober. The sea lions are waiting. Contemplating.

And, then: they are barking like mad angels heralding the advent of something incredible. (Our own hearts have turned into cyclones raging inside white bone prisons.)

They surface, one after the other. Four, eight, twelve. Sixteen. A hush has fallen over the boat. We watch as: they breathe out, they pirouette, they arch sleek tails. They leave our very bones clamouring; if the boat’s railings petered out of existence, half of us would leap into the gaping mouth of the ocean ourselves. We are — perhaps — an especially excitable audience, almost barking ourselves. They’re just so big and so beautiful. Prophets of a genus of wonder we thought we outgrew. We are wide-eyed, tongue-tied, and so very alive in front of these primordial giants.

 We’re so small, out here on the water. We know it in our typhoon hearts, we do — but we’re feeling so much and feeling it so hard, that we can’t help but think we must be pretty vast and pretty beautiful, too.

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

The post On the Strangest Sea in the USA appeared first on We Said Go Travel.

Mind Transcending in Nigeria

Mind transcending

The journey of a thousand miles begins with one step. My journey of trillions of miles begins with one thought. It doesn’t matter where I am, all I have to do is to be at peace with myself and I can travel far, far away to a land where I am profoundly happy. My far-away land.

 

Who says you have to leave your house to travel? Who says the journey must be physical? Well I would agree with you if you say so, after all I have never conformed to the norm and I am not about to change.

My place of profound gratitude and peace is not one I can point out for it is within. However I can attempt to describe it.

It is a place of love. Where all worries suspend into nothingness and all is calm. In this place I can talk freely, I can walk freely; I even spread my wings and fly. I flap them hard and feel the breeze spraying on my face. I sway and swerve and feel weightless upon the wind. I tell myself stories that make me smile. I cry tears of joy for the profoundness that surrounds and overwhelms me.

The air is fresh, the water is calm. Dancing to every string, the strings I play. It is love, it is music, call it whatever you wish but I still cannot call it anything because it transcends all.

This is a journey one should make every day. A journey free of fear, strife and pain. As easy and unrealistic as it may sound I am grateful that I can make this trip. Even during extremely busy days when time eludes me, I still am grateful and I look forward to that day when I can make this trip. So far, far away; yet as near as it could be.

I am grateful that I carry this place around with me wherever I go. It is an indestructible force that keeps me hopeful, it keeps me strong and also grateful. It is big enough to contain us, yet small enough to cover the void. It is a place that you should go, to seek the rest that you sincerely need. Worry not for I will take you there with me some day. Wonder not for we both shall make this trip and what a trip it shall be; for you shall marvel, and for that I am grateful.

Everything hits me and brings me to reality and yet elevates me to another realm far beyond my mundane comprehension. The songs that I alone hear but I know were never meant for my ears alone. The stories that envelope every note that I know you would love to hear. Ponder not my friend for I shall share it all, because this journey was never meant for me alone; but for the brave and the strong. For whenever I travel I feel strong and grateful yet hopeful that someday soon I shall not travel alone but in your company. For as many times in your company as you agree to embark on this journey with me. In thousands and millions; over galaxies and yet this sparks me up to reality. So marvel not my dear, for it is a journey we both shall take. And I feel honoured to be your tour guide through it all. For what a privilege it shall be to travel with you.

 

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

The post Mind Transcending in Nigeria appeared first on We Said Go Travel.

Spain: The moment I met… me

I was in a ferry from Ibiza to Formentera and I couldn’t look up at the sky. Every time I saw an airplane, I felt a big lump in my stomach. I knew the next day I had to go back to Bucharest. Back to my two-years job, back to my comfort zone. I was 24 years old and in the last two weeks I finally accepted that I needed a change in my life. I knew I could do whatever I want. I was young, but I was so scared to actually do it. Until this summer, when I met… me. I was myself there. I talked to people, I heared stories of life, I faced my fears. And the last day in Formentera was the turning point of this journey.

Me and my friend rented a scooter and started our one-day journey. Not long after that, we had an accident on the road. We got a few bruises and I burned my leg a bit.We didn`t feel too much physical pain, possibily because of the shock. Certainly because of the shock! It was my first accident and I was so scared. I didn`t want to climb the scooter again, I just wished to go back. It is said that bad things never come alone. Well, in that moment I realised I forgot my wallet at my friend`s house. So we were injured, I had no money, the scooter was scratched and I was really, really scared. And my friend was so calm in spite of all. She made me see myself – what was my reaction to all of that, how I complained about everything, how there was no point to my fear. We fell –so what, we could still walk. I forgot my wallet – so what, she could borrow me some money. The scooter was damaged – so what, we will pay for it. She opened my eyes, gave me confidence and convinced me to keep going. As she said, at the end of the road a wonderful place awaits for me. And it was all true.

When we reached the most eastern point of the island, I closed my eyes for five seconds. Then I opened it. Then I closed it and opened it again. I think I repeated this action for five times. Finally, I smiled. Fot the first time in my life I felt gratitude from the bottom of my heart. I felt it with my eyes, my soul, my ears, with all my human senses. I saw La Mola lighthouse, standing on the edge of the cliff. And there she was, the Mediterranean sea. It was just me and the sea. A deep vastness of blue was spread before me, under me, to my right and my left. No wonder Jules Verne used this place as the setting for an episode in his novel „Hector Servadac”. He actually described it as the end of the world… but for me it felt like the beginning of the world. I was looking at the sea and I felt it. I could enjoy the present moment and there was an entrancing air of gratitude about it. I could trust my instinct, listen to my heart and let my inner feelings be my guide. From that moment I began to appreciate things that I previously took for granted. I knew those last two weeks were not a simple holiday. That something has happened, that something will change. Back then, I had no idea what or how it will happen. But I was confident about one thing: I could do whatever I wanted with my life and I finally had the courage to act.

Back in the present day. A few weeks eariler I read Bob Dylan`s autobiography in which he wrote that sometimes you know things have to change, are going to change. That little things foreshadow what is coming, but you may not recognize them. And then something happens and you are in another world, you jump into the unknown – you are set free. Oh, how I found myself in his words! Those summer days in Ibiza, culminating with the last day in Formentera, was the beginning of my tremendous journey. After four and a half months, after I learned how to feel grateful for every little thing in my life, I finally understood something – fear is just not knowing how things could be and most of the time those things are not as bad as we think they are.

 So… Last weekend I bought a one-way ticket flight to London. Today I quitted my two-year job. And yes, I am scared as hell. But now I can accept fear because it makes me feel alive. And I know this is just the beginning. A beautiful one.

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

The post Spain: The moment I met… me appeared first on We Said Go Travel.