Lisa Niver's Blog: We Said Go Travel, page 381

Me vs. the Mojave Desert

I always wanted to visit Las Vegas but not the same way most people want to. I wanted to land at McCarron Airport, check into my hotel, walk the strip a few times…and than disappear into the desert, not to be seen again until it was time to go home. And that is what I did in the spring of 2009.

I loved Vegas but I longed for a more freeing experience and I promised myself I wouldn’t leave without doing that one thing almost every adventurer dreams of doing; renting a convertible and driving off into the sunset.

Well, I almost did just that. I left at sunrise and drove off into the Mojave Desert. I didn’t get very far before the sounds of video lottery terminals were replaced with…nothing. Absolute, sweet nothing. Well, there was something, it was just a very peaceful something. I felt so light and free out there in that vast, open place.

For two days, I aimlessly drove around the desert. I love to get lost so that is what I did. I drove down the most desolate looking gravel roads and left the main road behind me. Sometimes I reached a dead end and got out of the car to stare off into the desert. Other times, I reached a fork in the road where I stopped to contemplate my next move. I always chose the route unknown and never regretted it. At one point, I pulled over to watch tumbleweed blow across the desert floor like in those old western movies. I even witnessed a dust tornado. I saw no other cars or people for much of my journey. At times, it was daunting. Most of the time, it was peaceful and liberating. I found myself lost one evening and dangerously close to spending the night in that dark, lonely desert. Luckily, I found my way. Driving those dark, lonely roads at night was an unforgettable experience. I was doing something many women wouldn’t contemplate doing alone. I felt proud for letting my fears go and choosing to live in the moment.

I had a destination in mind for my last day in the desert; Death Valley. I thought I knew the way there but, as per usual, I got very lost. I drove around for hours trying to find my way to the Nevada-California border and in the process, found other interesting places. I came upon the infamous road known as The Extraterrestrial Highway because of the many UFO sightings on that stretch. I also happened upon a gas station that claimed to have maps to Area 51. No one would talk to me about it when I entered to buy one. I drove around in circles looking for it, got a little lost again and ended up back at that garage without finding Area 51 but a clearing between some mountains along the highway had me thinking in was in there somewhere.

I drove along that road with desert on one side and mountains on the other. No cars passed me for a very long time and that, for me, was heaven. I had the whole open road to myself; it was just me, cruising along a lonely desert road with the top down. I finally reached the Nevada–California border.

I spent the afternoon leisurely driving through that vast landscape. Unfortunately, I didn’t have time to see the entire park because I had to return to the city. I didn’t want to be stuck sleeping on the side of the road, alone, in Death Valley. I set the GPS to take me back to my hotel in Las Vegas. Someone who used the gadget before me created a pre-set for LAX. LAX was the name of the bar in my hotel. I soon discovered that LAX was also the abbreviation for the Los Angeles Airport. I drove for over an hour in the wrong direction…into the middle of nowhere with nightfall only minutes away.

When I finally did get close to Las Vegas, I, once again, set the GPS to take me to my hotel. I set it to take me on a route that would allow me to avoid going down The Strip. The GPS worked…partially. It took me on a different route alright – all around North Las Vegas, through some shady areas and deserted back roads and into a poorly marked construction zone only to end up exactly where I didn’t want to– on the Las Vegas Strip on a Friday Night.

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

Ready to tackle the Mojave Desert?  WSGT found these travel books and gear to help you prepare.

Las Vegas Gambling:  While in the Southwest, might as well test your luck at Sin City!

Las Vegas Lonely Planet:  The world’s #1 travel resource.

Desert Wildflowers:  The Mojave Desert is about with flowers.  Learn the different types here.

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How Salamanders led me on my travels

When I was little my mom, sister, me and our dogs used to get lost on purpose. We lived in the country of the deciduous North Eastern United States. Maple, birch, apple, cherry, oak and ash trees rooted themselves on our rolling hills.

No matter if it were early spring or late fall, leaves would squish or crunch beneath our scampering feet. We’d always be on a quest to no where – the best destination to have for a seven and five year old. My mom home schooled my sister and I until fourth and second grades respectively. It was never her choice to send us off to school. It came about because all our relatives lived out of state. When they’d visit they noticed things – things like another year passing and us still not knowing our multiplication tables, simple addition or subtraction. The family spoke. Grandma paid. We were in school.

In all those early days and miles spent in the woods, I never felt lost. My world was small and I wasn’t intimated by the isolation and quietness of the forest. Some people venture into the woods and feel fear. I felt curiosity. I entered school with a similar curiosity I had of the forest. In the woods I would lift rocks just to see if there might be a red salamander or garter snake resting underneath. In school I used my curiosity and tried to interact with the other kids to ask them questions about life, just to see what they’d say. My questions and explorations of my classmates soon gave way to a constant state of fear as it became apparent I lacked the same social skills they had. I quickly became the odd one out.

For four years I felt almost completely alone and without friends my own age. To find peace, I wandered farther into the woods or rode my horse mile upon mile into empty fields far away from roads or houses. In these spaces I could rest in solitude. In school, I was surrounded by people, yet constantly lonely and fearful my next words or actions would give just cause for merciless banter.

And so, from a young age I learned different ways to deal with being alone. Some of my coping mechanisms were better than others, but I learned how to play by myself at recess, come to expect being picked last for gym class and the hardest of all, eat lunch by myself. At random times there would be a swing and all of a sudden I could ‘hang’ with some people and sit with them at lunch. Then for reasons I was oblivious to, I’d be eating alone again.

It took me into my mid-twenties to deal with the anger and hurt I had of those harsh years. I feel my story is more fortunate than most as I was finally allowed to switch schools upon entering ninth grade. I was determined to create myself anew at a different school. On the first day of class my biggest fear would be finding someone to sit with at lunch. I will forever remember and be loyal to my friend Jen for inviting me to sit with her.

Suddenly, because of one person’s kindness, my world got a whole lot bigger.

As travelers, we are privileged to see the world through wider eyes. Since my high school days, I’ve been able to have lunch with people all around the world. And because I’ve asked random strangers questions, I’ve been invited into their homes to learn about their lives, laugh with their families and share stories. I’ve stayed in hostels where groups of us from all over the world unite together with companionship, crossing paths for a short bit of time, we celebrate together the events of life happening around us. We know the warmth of being welcomed and welcoming others to join with us. And because we travel, we know at times the comfort and pain of being alone in our journey.

It takes guts to step outside our comfort zone. Travelers are almost constantly pushing themselves out into the world and away from what we know. As such, we have a larger empathy to that person who might be sitting alone in the corner – because at one point or another it has probably been us. A big part of travel is simply meeting people different than ourselves and asking questions about their lives, just to see what they will say.

My calling for exploration has not ceased since those young years of turning rocks over and looking for salamanders. My curiosity has now evolved into hiking through remote jungles to look for orangutans, free climbing 165 feet up trees (a height taller than Niagara Falls) without the use of any ropes and harnesses or diving into the Pacific Ocean to swim with a dozen bull sharks at once. Now I pick and choose where I’d like to venture off to next in the world. I like to meet different people, try new foods, photograph wildlife and experience this world we live in. This is my dream. I am living my dream. Every day I make choices and sacrifices to keep my quest alive and growing. The freedom I feel from following my passion is one of the greatest accomplishments we humans can strive for. It is an outcome I can only wish for more of us to discover.

About the Author: After her first year at university, Tiffany moved to Wyoming in the spur of the moment decision to live on the floor next to a washer and dryer. She has never looked back since embracing a life of travel, exploration and endless curiosity.

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

Intrigued to set off on your next adventure around the USA?  WSGT found these travel books and gear to help you prepare.

Lonely Planet USA:  The best guidebook to the USA.

Lonely Planet Travel Photography:  Learn to take beautiful shots from the pro’s.

The Ultimate Survival Manual:  Lost and don’t know what to do?  This book will get you out alive!

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Holidaying in London

The first time I had gone to London was many years back. Subsequently I have gone there many times, the last being a couple of years ago. Every visit has been remarkable, thanks to our friends Sunipun and Asha Sen with whom we have been staying right from our first visit

During one of our visits, my daughter (who was a little girl then) and I had gone to see Madame Tussaud’s Museum. As we entered the hall I was taken aback by the life-like wax statues there. One could hardly tell the difference between a real human and one made with wax.. They were so exquisitely crafted that an inspection from close quarters too did not help me in identifying any distinguishing feature by which I could tell the difference. Passing through these halls we reached the Chamber of horrors. Inside this dimly lit dingy place , was an exhibition of waxworks of notorious murderers and other imfamous historical characters, creating an atmosphere of dread.

I started to feel a little queasy but since there were a number of visitors there, I decided to quickly glance through the whole room before moving on. We got so engrossed that at one point of time I realised with a startle, that besides the two of us there wasn’t another person present in there. Holding my daughter’s hand firmly in my grip I started looking for the exit door. In my panic it took me a while to locate the door. As I was rushing out, I bumped into a strange man who looked very familiar. He was thin and had features like that of a girl but his eyes were very shifty. He had a cadaverous-like paleness on his face. No matter how much I racked my brain I couldn’t place him.

Once out of the building felt I a sense of relief. We walked briskly to the nearest tube station and boarded the train to Lewisham. The journey ,as always, was very pleasant. Every time the train surfaced it passed through green fields brimming with flowers. Some tree branches laden with white blooms arched over the railway track. We reached the station in an hour’s time. As we were getting off the train I again caught sight of that man standing at the platform and staring at us. Being in a foreign country I was not sure of approaching an absolute stranger for help. Except for an old lady all the other passengers, just two or three people, had already left the platform. Stations in the outskirts of the city are very lonely, especially in the evenings.

From there my daughter and I nearly ran to our friend, Sunipun’s house which was just a short distance away. I even looked back a couple of times, but there was no trace of him. As I was opening the garden gate, suddenly he was there, standing across the road. I ran in and rang the bell hoping someone would open the door. As luck would have it, no one had returned home from work. I quickly went to the rear end almost dragging my little daughter. Fortunately I had a duplicate key to the rear entrance . We immediately went inside and made sure that all the doors and windows were securely bolted. Peeping out of the window I found him still standing in the same place looking toward the house. I was in a dilemma, thinking what to do…whether to wait for our friends to return or call the police. I decided to confront him. Seeing me preparing to go out my little daughter started crying. After pacifying her I went out.As I walked to the gate I could feel myself going numb with fear.I should have atleast brought the kitchen knife,.I thought. What if he attacked me?Putting an end to my trend of thoughts,I spotted him trying to open the gate.Without losing any more time I plucked up courage and asked him what he wanted. Without even looking at me he muttered something under his breath and slinked away.

Soon after our friends arrived ,I narrated the whole incident. Just as I had feared, they said it could be Jack the Ripper and that it was extremely risky to go near him. Those days London newspapers were filled with gruesome stories of how he killed his victims and then ripped them apart.

Whether it was Jack or Tom or Bill is a different matter. I am glad that my act of bravery paid off. We never set eyes on him as long as we stayed in London. I felt free at last….. free from the clutches of fear..Needless to say London seemed even more enchanting after that.

About the Author:

I have been a homemaker, bringing up my only daughter who is now doing well in her field of work. I am interested in gardening,painting, cooking and writing poems.  Basically I am an amateur writer, submitting articles to journals and entering writing contests.

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

Convinced London is a place that you would like to visit?  WSGT found these travel books and gear to help you prepare.

Lonely Planet London:  The #1 guidebook for cities in the world

Lonely Planet England:  Want to explore all that wonderful England has to offer?  Look no further than here!

London shopping guide:  While in London, might as well do some shopping!

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Adventure time in Iceland.

I remember seeing a doco as a kid on the Aurora Borealis. I was mesmerised by the dancing rainbow of colours moving across the sky.

‘One day I’ll go there, I’ll see the Northern Lights,’ I told myself.

Twenty-five years later I arrive in Iceland in the dark of night. On the ride from the airport I look out the window searching the skies but they are dark, there’s no moon, not even a star and no Aurora Borealis.

In the morning I find my window framing a wide bay of black water topped with white-caps whipped up by a wild wind, encircled by snow-capped mountains, bright against a pale winter sky.

I walk out onto lava fields and breathe in, filling my lungs with cold, fresh air as I gaze at the stark, flat panorama; a bleak yet stunning foreground to the spectacular, white mountains. The wind whips at my hair and plays with the thick grey clouds overhead.

I wander across the lava and to my delight it is not the barren landscape I was expecting. The rolling hills, grey-black, rippled and cracked are full of life. Grasses and minute plants grow everywhere. Tiny flowers, smaller than my fingertip bloom and the soft, carpet-like moss is thick and warm against the chill wind, a perfect place for trolls to nap.

There is a freedom here, this place is a real adventure. But there is also a freedom to believe and I embrace their old stories with childlike glee.

I see elves small and fairy-like peeping from behind flowers and peering between blades of thick, yellow grass. I imagine Vikings arriving on black rocky shores and dusky, pink sunsets with silhouetted trolls lumbering across the horizon.

I take the long drive to the Jokulsarlon glacier lagoon. Here icebergs broken off from the glaciers float down the river, slow and silent, like ghost ships sailing out to sea.

Ice is scattered over black, sand beaches. Chunks as big as cars emanating a cloudy aqua are battered by the rough grey surf. Smaller pieces, clear and glassy, glitter like diamonds in the soft afternoon light.

I could spend hours here, days even. Each piece of ice is different, like the snowflakes that fell a thousand years before to form them, unique and individual like precious gems.

I lay on the ground, snapping away with my camera at a small slab of ice. I get in close and can see every crack and bubble. I hear footsteps crunching on sand behind me and stand up to find a man looking quizzically at me. I give him a small, awkward smile and walk off.

When I turn back he is on the ground, photographing my piece of ice. I shake my head with a smile and continue to click away; some birds, a seal, the mountains. I wonder if he sees what I see or if he’s wondering what the hell I was doing down there.

I join a tour for a glacier walk. I strap metal spikes to my boots, don my helmet and grasp my ice-pick with a grin. Impressed with my outfit I step onto the ice, listening to the crunch of each step as my spikes dig in. We walk across frozen waves, step over deep clefts and tap away at the crusty white surface to reveal the blue glow of the glacier beneath.

Here the elves are different, they are thin and willowy with long silver hair. They are 100 metres tall and stroll gracefully through the mountains and across the glaciers.

The nights come early and we are driving in darkness as we head back to Reykjavik. I’m with friends I met only days ago, but we talk and laugh as if we’ve known each other for years.

Suddenly one of them starts yelling.

‘Stop! Stop the car!’ he says as he points excitedly out the window.

We pull up on a little side road and pour out onto the gravel. A bitter cold wind belts us and my arm is jerked hard as the car door is almost pulled from my grasp. The whole car shakes from the wind’s ferocity and the temperature is below zero, but we barely notice as we shout and jump and crane our necks at the sky.

In the sky to the north we see a cloudy green stripe. It spreads and moves, becomes more solid, grows brighter and the colours shift from deep greens to bright yellows. Soon it reaches the southern horizon too and there are parts that have a powdery look like they’re falling, giving a depth to the sky that makes it looks so amazingly large. The smile I have is so big my face hurts and my lungs feel ready to burst as I watch.

About the author:  Kelly Benson lives in Melbourne, Australia. She is a keen traveller both at home and abroad. She has spent time in over 30 countries with her most recent trip including a month in Iceland and a month in Sri Lanka.

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

Inspired to go to Iceland now?  WSGT found these great travel books and travel accessories to help you along the way!

Lonely Planet Iceland:  The worlds #1 travel book for Iceland

Canon Powershot Camera:  The world’s leading brand and a great introductory camera perfect for beginner photographers.

Travel stories for inspiration:  A great book comprised of stories of travel

 

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NEWS: Writing for Wharton, Freedom Contest

From the LATEST We Said Go Travel NEWS:

Thank you to Wharton Business Magazine for inviting me to write for them! Enjoy my first article: Content Marketing is Conquering Your Customers!! More articles coming SOON! Including one on Angel Investing and Venture Capital Funding.

My latest article for the Jewish Journal is about DANCING TO DISCOVER FREEDOM! Do you have a secret desire to share? I want to know! Hope to see you at dance class or hula hoop class or on the beach somewhere! Happy 4th of July! Lisa

Thank you to the winners and all the participants in theInspiration Travel Writing Contest. Thank you for reading, commenting and being in our community! I hope you will be inspired to join in our Summer 2014 Independence Writing Contest! The entries so far are really fantastic! Click here to read them all!

We are looking for an article about your act of freedom-a place you chose or that allows you to feel free. Be inspired by Sara Barielles’ song, Brave, and share “What you want to say.” We want to “See you Be Brave…and start speaking up!” Where are you most able to be your true self? In Nellie Bennett’s Only in Spain, she watches a flamenco dancer and shares wanting ”to attack my life with that passion, to live with her joy and her devotion to her art… I’d wanted to feel and smell and taste life, and live like that dancer on the stage in Seville, risking that triple turn, never sure she wouldn’t spin right off the stage.” Your place of freedom might be far across the globe or in your own backyard.

Videos from my trip to Puerto Rico with Richard Bangs and Orbitz: Click here for playlist.

We Said Go Travel on YouTube just went over 230,000 views! Follow or subscribe to the channel to know when each new video is posted. Thank you for every click, comment and story you have shared! I really appreciate it!

Thank you for your support. Connect on  Facebook,  Google+,Instagram, LinkedIn, Pinterest,  SlideShare,  Twitter, and YouTube.

Thanks again! Lisa (Click here to sign up for this newsletter. )

 

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An Act of Mindfulness in Koya-San

I was jolted out of sleep by a panicked feeling, fearful that I had overslept and blinded by the morning brightness that had infiltrated the room through the thin screen doors. The space heater had automatically turned off in the middle of the night and the mountain chill permeated the room. I pulled my blankets over my head, curled up into a ball and closed my eyes for a moment. I stretched my achy back, sore from sleeping on the floor, even though I had added an extra cushioned layer to my tatami mat. My hand ventured out from underneath the blanket onto the floor to find my cellphone, which flashed 5:30am. I took a deep breath and kicked my blankets back so that the cold could shock my body awake. It was time to get up for the main reason why I had come to Koya-san, Japan.

I feel most free to be my true self when I’m on vacation in a foreign country, but this was taking it to another level. Being in a Buddhist monastery on top of a remote mountain in Japan made me feel like I was far removed from the rest of the world and at the same time deeply connected with the world.

As I pulled back the screen doors, my breath came out in small puffs of cold fog that disappeared as quickly as they appeared. The blue sky was clear and the Ekoin temple was calm and quiet. I quickly changed out of my yukata and kimono into jeans and a heavy black fleece pullover, and joined my travel group in the main lodging area. Shivering and groggy, the seven of us were quiet this morning as we made our way to the main room to observe the morning prayer service.

When we arrived in the main prayer hall, the limited seating area was mostly filled with a mix of foreigners and Japanese elders. We shuffled into the back of the room, kneeling on our knees or sitting cross-legged Indian style on the carpeted floor. The sounds of the monks setting up for service echoed sharply in the sleepy, yet alert silence. I stared at the Amida Buddha that was staged in the center of the room and breathed deeply, inhaling the incense smoke that wafted through the air. The monks were wrapped in layers of dark orange and maroon robes with layers of prayer beads around their necks. An older monk, I presumed him to be the most senior one in the room, settled down in front of the main Buddha statue with a prayer book in front of him. Three younger monks sat on the floor to his right with prayer books in front of them. One monk stood near a giant drum on the left. At six thirty am, the prayer began. The sound of the tonal chanting in Pali filled the room and wrapped around me like a security blanket. It reminded me of my childhood, when my mom used to have me kneel in front of the Buddha and Guan Yin statues, and recite mantras in Cantonese until the incense stick had burned to the end.

I had sat right in front of the incense urn, front and center behind the head monk facing the Buddha. I didn’t understand any of the Pali, but let the chanting lull me into a state of meditation, focusing on the image of the Buddha. At some point, people began to take turns lighting and offering three sticks of incense to the Buddha. Everyone patiently waited their turn to make their offering. As the morning prayer service began to wind down, the head monk continued chanting while he got up and shook his mandala in our direction, I assumed to bless the visitors. One of the monks beat the drum a few times and then all was quiet. The head monk bowed and spoke to us calmly in Japanese about the truth of suffering in the world and how we have to face the things that happen in life directly. He motioned for us to rise and make our way around the rest of the prayer hall to pay our respects to other bodhisattvas in the room. Whenever I reflect back on this experience, I am reminded that the greatest freedom, no matter where I am, is to focus on the things that are within my control.

As we walked out of the temple, I turned around and bowed deeply one last time to the Amida Buddha. In that moment, I felt humbled and grateful to be alive.

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

Ready to visit Koya-San? WSGT found these travel books and gear to help you prepare.

Japan Lonely Planet-The number 1 travel guidebook in the world.

Japanese customs and etiquette-Make the most of your trip with knowing Japanese etiquette!

Staying fit on the road- When on vacation, many of us gain weight from all the delicious food.  This travel kit can help you come back looking great.

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Lisa is Writing for Wharton!

Thank you to Wharton Magazine for publishing my article on Content Marketing! I am honored to be included in your site! Hooray Hooray Pennsylvania!

Content Marketing Is Conquering Your Customers

We are now all in the marketing business. As Jay Baer has pointed out in his book, Youtility: Why Smart Marketing Is about Help Not Hype, “content is fire and social media is gasoline!” Baer says, “Success flows to organizations that inform, not organizations that promote.”

Many companies’ knee-jerk reaction has been to promote how great they are and do little else but repeat platitudes about their own company without regard to engaging their community.

After working with over 700 companies, Baer knows what works. He describes “friend-of-mine awareness” as one strategy that makes a company stand out.

“If you are useful without engaging in an immediate quid pro quo, your business will be trusted the same way consumers trust their friends and family members,” Baer writes. The new magic is to “focus on solving problems, answering questions and creating long-lasting customer relationships by doing so.” Companies that figure this out will be rewarded with all types of success.

Friend-of-mine awareness is based on the reality that companies “are competing against real people for the attention of other real people.” When consumers trust a company as they would a person, the reward is that customers and prospects then will do more of its marketing for the company.

I was astounded by an example in Youtility about the Twitter feed @HiltonSuggests. I started following it and Vanessa Sain-Dieguez, director of social media planning and integration for Hilton Worldwide, on Twitter. Hilton has taken the idea of being a friend to a whole new level by sharing local knowledge with anyone in a city where the hospitality company has a local team member online.

My first thought was to share this with a family about to go to Prague, one of the 25 pilot cities for the program. I love San-Dieguez’s quote in the book about how some of the experts are not from concierge or social media but “they’re just hotel employees who love their city and want to help visitors better enjoy it.”

“We’re not looking to win your stay on this trip. We’re looking to make a real, authentic connection with you and hopefully gain a customer for life,” says Sain-Dieguez.

I love that they are building friend-of-mine awareness and understand that the new ROI (return on investment) is a return on involvement.

Is your company ready for youtility? Many companies are not. Offering assistance without expecting immediate return “is in direct opposition to the principles of marketing and business deeply ingrained in practitioners at all levels,” writes Baer.

This was a major issue with several hotels when I organized a speaking tour called the “Festival of the Pacific.” Many hotels have asked me about how they can grow their followings and show up better in searches, yet most of them are not ready to shift to the new ROI (involvement). I was surprised when one major chain declined to host a speaking event but did host me for two nights in a suite with ocean views in Oahu. Hotels customarily host writers—but not events. The hotel that chose to host the event had over 40 people show up who loved the hotel, the restaurant and the event, and the hotel was able to introduce these guests to its latest Thursday night happy hour promotion. I got to stay in the penthouse as well (where the Black Eyed Peas stayed when in town for a concert!).

The social media buzz on the event was such that the general manager asked when I could fly back and give another talk.

I wrote an article for the first hotel, but it failed to generate the interest produced by the talk and the subsequent video. When you resort to traditional promotion and stay away from providing information, that bond of trust with consumers “evaporates,” as Baer puts it.

Another example from Baer’s book is Holiday World and Splashin’ Safari, which offer their guests free parking, refreshments and sunscreen. “[It] is creating more waves as that is the conscientious treatment your friend would give you at their house,” Baer writes. People want to feel like they belong in your community. They want to feel like they matter and that a company is treating them as relevant.

Customers and prospects are responding to the youtility trend. As Baer explains, 60 percent of consumer decisions are made before a company even has a consumer on its radar.

“Customers are ninjas now. They are stealthily evaluating you right under your nose,” Baer writes.

So, what are you doing to make a difference for your tribe?

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Mother Earth is my Home

Mother Earth is My Home

By: Anette Lillevang Kristiansen

The morning mist is dank and muggy. She drags herself along a narrow mountain plateau, listening to the river roaming and hitting the stones several hundred meters below in the precipice valley. Her trekking boots are sloppy with mud, and she can hear the raindrops falling softly on her raincoat on this early morning. It’s not rain, but fog banks condensing over the treetops and transforming the path into puddles and mud.

The stones are rugged, mossy and wet with drops from the thick rainforest vegetation. A green tangle of trees and lianas cover the stepping stones, a bird screams far away and she is cloaked in the chilly mist. The cloud forest embraces and greets her.

She struggles with an aching head and breathlessness, meanwhile she climbs the steep stairs, carved into the rock wall. The ancient decayed stones are worn by time and the cold rough weather of the heights. Further down the path the ancient ruin is unveiled, the mist disperses and she glimpses a divine sight in the distance. The precipitous mossy slopes rise from the deep valley like gigantic pillars of salt. The fog banks glide like spirits over the ancient masonry.

For a while she stops to look at the scenery thoughtfully, feeling tears running and a lump in her throat. The mountains and the high plateau throw her into a trance. She takes a deep breath, but cannot find words enough to fully describe the place. The words are just too poor.

She senses something magical and almost celestial — a kind of primitive force, a mysterious spirit overlying the steel-grey rugged rocks and scarred massifs. She sees the special light, the dramatic beauty and colors that vary in shades of the whole palette.

With eyes closed she touches the worn masonry and imagines how these walls have been left to the wild jungle for ages. Then centuries ago the masonry was released with machetes from a tangle of tropical tentacles and growths, revealing its former might.

The sacred spring water in the narrow channels, cisterns and fountains runs like a labyrinth between the buildings of the ruins, giving the place a beautiful purity and innocence. They run in a zig zag pattern through temples and in front of carvings that were cut in the naked rock. The impression is a masterpiece of unique, well-preserved architecture.

She vaguely senses something she can best describe as a closeness with Pacha Mama – the heartbeat of Mother Earth – a mysterious and powerful ancient serenity, which is difficult for her to define. She is close to the breathing earth, the pulse of the planet. She feels like she has finally returned home after years of endless searching. This place has a spirit she has never sensed before, but in such a mysterious way that it feels well known.

It’s as if the spirits are still here, as if they have never left the place. Their spirits are still to be found among the ancient temple walls. She finds it strange, the impact this place is having on her. She has never been here before, but it feels so secure and well known, as though she only left yesterday. Some people believe we have lived before, that we have been here on earth for many lives and that we are always going back to where we truly belong. This is exactly the sensation she has.

Is it really true, this theory about reincarnation? Have we been here before? Are some of us really able to remember and recognize it? That’s exactly how she feels, when she is staring over the spectacular Inca ruin of Machu Picchu in Peru. She finally has reached her real home and the universe gives a deep sigh.

About the Author

Anette Lillevang Kristiansen is a journalist student and has been traveling the world since 1994. She is a writer for danish travel magazines, newspapers and is editor in chief for the Danish Travelers Guilds magazine called Globen. She is also writing fiction inspired from traveling.

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

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Dancing to Freedom!

Cristian Oviedo

Do you have a desire that is so secret it is almost unknown even to you? In Jean Kwok’s Mambo in Chinatown, we have the treat of unraveling the life of Charlie Wong:

“My name is Charlie Wong and I’m the daughter of a dancer and a noodle-maker. My mother was once a star ballerina at the famed Beijing Dance Academy before she ran off to marry my father, the handsomest noodle-maker in Beijing—or at least that’s what she always called him before she died. Hand in hand, they escaped to America to start their family.”

In this novel, we learn that Charlie believes she is homely and she learned “early on not to attract any attention…if I was good for nothing but washing dishes, I’d resolved to be the best dishwasher I could.” Her mother and younger sister, Lisa, are “poised, elegant and beautiful,” and this “Black Swan” style tale begins with Charlie saying:

“To be honest, I didn’t mind. I wished not for a new job or place but for a different life altogether, to change not the where but the how of things. Some people dreamed of going someplace else; I dreamed of being someone else. Someone who hadn’t always been in the bottom half of her class at school….Sometimes I would look at Lisa and Pa and silently ask the gods, “Could I please not be born into such a good-looking family in my next life?” It wasn’t easy being a cow among gazelles.”

Fortunately Charlie has a godmother who teaches her tai chi, believes in her and shares wisdom: ‘If you do not change direction, you may end up where you are heading.’” “Is that from a Hallmark card?” she asks her Godmother, who replies: “No, it’s Lao Tzu.” Through their Sunday lessons, Charlie occasionally has a glimpse of herself as something other than a dishwasher. Godmother Yuan inspires her: “Another Lao Tzu quote for you: ‘When I let go of what I am, I become what I might be.’”

Nicole Gil and Miguel Angel Maganda

Charlie literally stumbles into a new life at a dance studio where she begins to evolve and transform while her sister falls apart. She is told: “Dancing is just like walking. Don’t let anyone tell you other wise. If you can walk, you can dance.” While she does not believe in herself at first, others around her can see her potential and tell her “As a dancer, you don’t have to arrive at a destination, you only have to travel beautifully.”

 

I have started to take dance class in Los Angeles and I appreciated her struggles to belong and to learn and to grow. They tell her at the studio: “Remember, it’s not the steps. It’s the feeling. That is dancing.” She realizes: “When I danced, I felt alive and free, like I was discovering my true self, that I was more than just a dishwasher from Chinatown.”

 

Through taking risks, her life and her perspective change. Those around her notice the difference but are unsure what has happened. “All my life, I’d been trying to fulfill other people’s ideas of who I was supposed to be and failing, and [dance] was my chance to try to become who I was meant to be.”

 

At one point as she prepares for a competition, she is told: “Yes, you [and Ryan] are now a disaster together but you are a catastrophe with potential.” The journey is full of sore muscles, family tensions and tragedy but as Charlie becomes stronger, and more flexible, her courage allows her to see she is “capable of anything.”

 

At one point, Pa, who speaks rarely in this novel, says to Charlie after a difficult family situation:

“To be human is to be under assault. So much around us leads us to close ourselves off, to harden. And sometimes we act thus. But in spite of all this, we must choose to open, and to open again. Breathe. Open. You will be all right.”

 

With these words, I think we can all rise to the challenge to be courageous, to dance and to find our own path to freedom.

 

I hope you will share your story of discovering your independence in the We Said Go Travel Independence Travel Writing Contest or meet me for dancing with some of the world renown teachers in Los Angeles!

Meet me at Dance Class and learn with Incredible Teachers:

Cristian Oviedo is the current world champion in Cha Cha Cha and four-time world champion in Salsa on 1, Bachata and Freestyle.  His slogan is “Dance to Express, Not to Impress!” He is truly a phenomenal teacher and incredible dancer. Stop by at his new Thursday night social, one hour of class and then a salsa and Bachata party til the early morning hours. Two hours of lessons on Tuesday and Wednesday nights at the same location: 2621 Pico Blvd Unit K Santa Monica 90405

Another amazing pair of dancers and teachers, Nicole Gil and Miguel Angel Maganda teach at Monsoon on Third Street Promenade every Wednesday and Saturday night and after their superb lessons there is a live band!

At LA Dance Fit, groove in Rumba Caliente with Jhonatan Jimenez, Zumba with Jhon Gonzalez, and Uplift with Deirdra Martinez.

Find your own freedom by sharing your story or moving with the music! Enjoy your July 4th celebrations.

 

 

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