Lisa Niver's Blog: We Said Go Travel, page 415

Overcoming fear at the Great Barrier Reef,Australia

“Get in the water, woman! Get in the water!” No, I am not Allie, from The Notebook, being encouraged to jump into a modest, safe pond. I am Barbara Anne, and I was being encouraged to jump into the middle of the unknown, Pacific Ocean.

“What if there are sharks!” I wailed to my boyfriend, who was treading water nearby.

“Then I will save you,” he replied calmly with a grin.

“Now come on!”

As he dove underneath the surface of the water, I hesitated. On one hand, I was absolutely terrified of sharks; but on the other hand, when would I ever get the chance to dive in the Great Barrier Reef again? I held the snorkel mask to my face, and stuck my head under the water to see what was beneath me. I shrieked, and successfully swallowed enough salt water to forcefully come to the surface immediately, sounding like I had bronchitis, lung cancer, and asthma combined.

“What’s wrong!” Morgan, my boyfriend, replied, looking anxious.

Unable to keep the smile from escaping, I replied in excitement,“It’s so beautiful!” and dove right in.

Though the allurement of the reef persuaded me to jump into the water, I immediately felt fearful again. I spent the first ten minutes swimming in circles, constantly looking for dark, shadowy figures that could be lurking. I looked like I was trying to chase my flippers; unsuccessfully at that.

However, after ten minutes of no sharks appearing, my nerves began to wane, and my eyes finally opened to the true enchantment of the Great Barrier Reef. I had never seen such a multitude of vibrant colors; I wished that I had two pairs of eyes, so that I could see everything twice. I spotted fish and coral of every size, shape, and color, and all were absolutely remarkable. I followed a sea turtle around, pretending that I was a baby duck following my mother. I explored small crevices to find small fish seeking refuge in hiding places. I forgot about my phobia of sharks entirely, and gave my heart to the reef completely. For a rare three hours, I truly knew what it meant to live in the moment. Even more than that, I became the moment. I transformed into a part of the Great Barrier Reef, a living and breathing organism like everything else. I began to wonder if the creatures that I was seeing looked at me with the same sense of amazement. I wondered if they had fears, like me. I wondered what it was like to be able to swim in such an incredible and breathtaking place every day. The reef made me so curious. I decided that the animals I was seeing were quite lucky to live in such a wondrous place.

As the captain called us in, I swam back in a daze, hypnotized by the images I had seen that day. From the fascinating people I met, to the brilliant animals and coral I saw, to overcoming one of my largest fears, my day spent at the Great Barrier Reef was one I will never forget, nor regret.

About the Author: Barbara Anne Scheibel is a Childhood Education major at SUNY Oswego. I absolutely love traveling, children, and writing.

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The Unraveling in India

“The Unraveling”

I can feel the firm, dimpled cushion beneath me as I struggle (albeit, with difficulty) to silently fold my body into a more contented position. It’s been ages since I sat cross-legged this long without a pain or discomfort of some kind, and today is certainly no exception. Between the occasional cough and sniffle and a shuffling of tense bodies nearby, I can hear the calls of dogs howling under the cover of darkness and the monkeys squealing above the treetops in playful glee. The smell of butter lamps wafts lazily through the air as the heavy woollen blanket that surrounds me engulfs me in its coarse, but cosy, fibres in the cool evening mountain air, and I can’t help but feeling the pleasant notion that I am exactly where I am meant to be right now. It’s day 7 into my silent Buddhist meditation retreat, where sixty-five of us from all parts of the world and from all walks of life have descended upon this little town of McLeod Ganj to delve into our own psyches and learn the powers of what lies lurking beneath.

There is poetry in this place. Poetry and a living wisdom that comes from years of spiritual practice. McLeod Ganj, known as “Little Lhasa,” is a small town 1750m (5741 feet) above sea level that overlooks the luscious green Kangra Valley below in the Himachal Pradesh District of Northern India. In 1959 after the Chinese invasion of Tibet, the 14th Dalai Lama fled here in exile and set up residence in the Tsuglagkhang Complex at the end of Temple Road, one of two small main roads that comprises this town. Today this place is now home to a large Tibetan refugee community, many maroon-robed Buddhist monks and nuns, European and American volunteers, hippies, journalists, activists, barefoot nomads, bearded men strumming guitars, beggars from all over the sub-continent, including stray dogs, wandering rubbish-eating cows, macaque rhesus monkeys poised anxiously above, waiting to steal your belongings…and of course, travellers (of which I am one), who come here for a chance glimpse of the divine.

There are ever-present reminders of this town being filled with a spiritual air: the presence of his holiness, the Dalai Lama; Buddhist stupas, shrines and temples; prayer flags and prayer wheels; mantra-covered stones; and Tibetan musical chanting floating up over the hillsides. It’s a special atmosphere that cannot be fully described but must be personally felt. Breathing, despite the elevation, seems easier somehow; likely from the crystal clear mountain air flowing down from the snowy tips and slate faces of the Himalayas (pronounced “him-all-yahs” by the locals). Beauty resides everywhere in this rolling landscape of rhododendron forests, clustered houses and dusty dirt paths, but it’s the all-pervading kindness in this town that gets me, scoops me up and swaddles me in a kind of bear hug that I wasn’t expecting…like the elderly Tibetan monk I met a few days ago in passing who was tortured in a Chinese prison for 33 long years, and yet still oozes a kindness and compassion that’s otherworldly.

Day 7 of this retreat also happens to fall on an auspicious Buddhist holiday called the Lha-Bab Duchen, a day of prayer to honour the Buddha’s descent from the heavenly realms back to earth. After waking up at 5am to take ceremonial vows and then participating in a beautiful candlelight vigil this evening to send endless love and compassion out into the world, I now sit here shifting upon my cushion, tears streaming down my face in a kind of collective sigh, knowing and truly feeling for the first time the deep loneliness of being a human being, and where I can feel a wide chasm in my heart opening up…unraveling…allowing the rumbling demons a place to rise up and out for good.

My time sitting here on this cushion folded in prayer for the last week has been anything but wasted. In fact, upon reflection, I would have to say it has been the single most profoundly mind-altering experience I have ever gone through. It’s not often that we take the time, or even make the time, to hold a magnifying glass up to our souls and truly examine who we are, what makes us tick, and why we seem to tick that way? And so it’s been a week of silences and inner challenges, philosophies and sciences, and a sheer unraveling of selves and open hearts. In the words of Emily Dickinson, what I learned most about time and it’s preciousness is that, “forever is composed of nows,” and in this crazy, chaotic, and impermanent world in which we live, we need to live more in the moment if we ever want to get out alive.

About the Author: Woman. Observer. Learner. Explorer. Artist.

Thank you for reading and commenting. Please enter our next Travel Writing competition and tell your story.

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Four Thousand Miles and a Beach in France

I wake up on my first morning in Biarritz, France on a stiff double bed, my forehead sticky with sweat. In the first hazy minute between sleep and wake, I forget where I am. The eight hours I spent on a transatlantic flight bleed into my dreams. I sit upright and scan the room with my eyes as my memory catches up with me. I’m seventeen years old with four thousand miles and an ocean between me and any familiarity.

After a considerable struggle with the shower, I get dressed and make my way downstairs. I am greeted with a glass of grapefruit juice, toast, and an incomprehensible string of words. Smile and nod, I think. That’s how I’m going to get through this. Soon, the clock on the stove reads nine am and my roommates, three girls from Ireland, and I start to make our way to the school where we will be studying French. The slang terms they exchange as we walk are as foreign to me as the fast-paced French my host family speaks.

We make it to the school fifteen minutes late due to none us know how to read a map very well. A woman asks my name and directs me to where I should be. I walk into the classroom, immediately feeling twenty pairs of eyes on me. Once I take the open seat in the back of the room, the teacher asks where I am from. “Amerique,” I quietly reply in my embarrassing French accent. At once, every head in the room whips around. I feel my face flush. She passively remarks, “la seule Américaine.” I give a sheepish smile in reply, and wonder for a moment what I, “the only American,” am doing here.

That evening after an awkward and wordless dinner, my roommates and I take to the foreign streets. We head towards Biarritz’s most prominent beach, the Grande Plage. The first time I lay eyes on the Grande Plage, the sun is beginning to set over the Atlantic and the cool blue sky looks as if it has been splashed with warm watercolors. I am captivated; I pull out my camera hoping to take a piece of this ethereal scene home with me like a souvenir. The girls and I sit in a row on the platform overlooking the beach, chatting with our legs dangling over the edge. We watch women in wide-brimmed hats gathering their sandy belongings after a day of sun bathing, shaggy-haired boys with surfboards tucked under their arms, and children with one hand locked in their parents’ and one hand wrapped around ice cream cones.

Once darkness falls on Biarritz, the beach begins to come to life. It is a warm, cloudless night. The sweet sea air clings to my skin and occasionally sends my long, wavy hair into a whipping around. The energy on the beach is almost tangible: it is intoxicating and impossible to ignore. As more and more people flock to the beach, it seems as if every corner of the world is represented; from Singapore, to Abu Dhabi, to Sweden. We sit in a circle talking and laughing, bonding over cigarettes and cheap champagne. We toast to Biarritz. We toast to each other. It is a celebration of the colliding of our worlds; of our good fortune to end up in this paradisiacal place at this time.

After hours filled with conversation and laughter, my head spins with excitement and I feel the kind of contentedness that is so complete, it feels as if it has settled into my bones. With my sandals in hand, I wander towards the shoreline. I plant my feet in the wet sand and let the tide wash over them. My mind drifts to the other side of this ocean, where my friends and family are going about their days. They are staring at their bedroom walls, or television screens, or roads they have seen a hundred times before. The moon softly illuminates the crashing waves and for a moment I feel an urge to pinch myself. Eyes locked on the horizon, a smile forces its way onto my face. I think to myself, if this is a dream, I’d prefer to stay asleep.

Sometime later, our curfew forces me and my roommates to drag ourselves away from the revelry. I leave new friends with kisses on each cheek and promises of reunion tomorrow. There is a lingering euphoria that follows me home and into my bed, holding me in its hopeful embrace as I drift off to sleep.

I wake up on my second morning in Biarritz on a stiff double bed, my forehead sticky with sweat. I am seventeen years old with four thousand miles and an ocean between me and any familiarity, and the greatest experience of my life is beginning to unfold.

Abouth the Author:  Abby Cothran is a sophomore English major at Clemson University with a chronic case of wanderlust.

Thank you for reading and commenting. Please enter our next Travel Writing competition and tell your story.

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Mcleod Ganj,India:Musing Over My Muse(s)

MCLEOD GANJ, INDIA: MUSING OVER MY MUSE(S)

Breathless and unable to fight the temptation, I surrender. The comfort of rest offered by the rocky ledge and what lies before me is irresistible.

I am just a few minutes away from completing Kora, the circular trail around Tsuglagkhang complex. The valley stands before me with arms flung wide open, inviting me, seducing me, challenging me. I give up, take out my sketchbook and start painting. Nature turns into my muse.

Two Tibetan girls in their early teens pass by. They stop to look at my sketch. The younger one whispers something in the older one’s ears and they start giggling. They seem oblivious that their laughter is making me doubt my artistic skills. I pretend to remain unfazed but curiosity gets the better of me.

‘What are your names?’

‘I am Tsomo and she is Tashi’

‘Is there something wrong with my sketch?’

‘No, it’s very good.’

‘What is making you laugh then?’

‘My sister wonders if you can make her picture.’

‘It can take time and your family might get worried.’

In a moment their expressions change. I have hit some soft spot.

‘Mother and father could not make it to India. We were brought here by our grandma and now she is also dead. We live with our community.’

Silence.

I am not an ardent fan of awkward silences and consider it a sort of moral obligation to fill any such pauses. Plus, there is a fraction of resemblance that my otherwise blessed life has with theirs. The fact that I also had lost my parents early in life, urges in me an instant need to connect with them.

‘O.K, how about I make a sketch of you both?’I find myself saying despite my dreaded incompetence as a portrait maker.

They both smile .I start making an effort to sketch them and fortunately somewhere midway , time comes to my rescue. The girls tell me that they really are getting late. Making a resolution of brushing up on my portrait making ability, I wind up and on the sisters’ request, I follow them as they want me to meet someone they are very fond of.

They introduce me to Pema, a young girl who dotes on them like an elder sister and bonds with me with equal ease. On realising how little I have seen of Mcleod Ganj in my one day stay, she decides to show me around. Over the next few days, I get to explore the opulent glory offered by this hamlet and revel in a euphoric sensory feast in her company.

Sitting by the side of the Bhagsu waterfall ,we look at sunbeams create unfathomably intricate patterns on the surface of water. I tell Pema that I need to jot down a poem before my thoughts flee. She finds me incredibly talented. It’s a blessing to be able to write and paint, she tells me .

Every day, myriad delights await us and hold us enchanted. St. John church situated in the wilderness and dotted with pristine charm of flowers, climbers and creepers stands serene with its timeless vibe. At Naddi village, clouds floating next to us are transcendental and w e laugh our way into a sublimely perfect sunset. The main market with bustling cafes is tailor-made for my flamboyant side. Chats with monks and nuns are both engaging and interesting. Shopping as usual is fun and the camaraderie I have developed with Pema is special.

Her familiarity with each nook and cranny of the town is unmistakable. She tells me that she was born and brought up here .I notice a shadow of sadness in her radiant smile. She speaks of her people’s longing to go back to Tibet and their peaceful struggle for freedom. We are in Tibet museum looking at archived evidence of suffering that human species is capable of inflicting upon their own kind .Pema gets from me a promise that I will teach painting and whatever else I can as a volunteer to exiled children during my next visit to the town. She adds sadly that she would be leaving for abroad in another three months and is not sure about her coming back. But, she is sure about me coming back.

I know that I will be back. To this place where rocks whisper songs, waterfalls chant melodies, mountains weave stories , cafes and shops pulsate with life. Where Pema’s people live, where hope lives, where love lives. Where Tsomo and Tashi found home and my creativity found a new meaning.

I will be back to this place where I am sure, each day inspiration will come to me in different avatars. As innocent children’s smiles, as youngsters’ dreams, as serene maturity of wrinkled old faces, as a friend’s uninhibited laughter and her unseen tears. As the precious satisfaction of spending my time without regrets.

About the Author: Nandita Bhargava-A vivacious personality, a heart full of compassion, a sense of childlike wonder, insane optimism , citizenship of the Zen world and the belief that to live life fully you have to love life fully, are the things that keep me headed towards new journeys. Writing ,painting and travelling are my salvation and pitching in my little bit to add to the happiness of this universe, a must-do. I do not have an iota of doubt that the world was intended to be a place without any boundaries.

Thank you for reading and commenting. Please enter our next Travel Writing competition and tell your story.

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Malibu Peace, California

I came here for peace. And peace is what I found. It was the Malibu waters that washed away my tears and embraced me with its warm breeze, the sea salt a welcoming kiss on my lips. Still reeling from the tragic death of my brother, my life seemed out of control and unbalanced. And I seemed to gravitate to this place as if led by some unknown force. Malibu is not the place I would have envisioned for me. After all, it was home to the Hollywood stars that inhabit large mansions with ungodly price tags containing multiple zeros. Certainly not a fit for me. And yet, this is exactly where I ended up. At the end of the world, paradise as its final destination. It is where I have escaped, fleeing from the concrete jungle. Taking leave of the hustle and bustle, the chaos, the disarray of everyday living. Retreating from the army of four wheeled warriors all spewing poison as their weapon of choice. The chronic explosion of deafening sounds. The demons that seemed to inhabit my soul.

Malibu is now home. Nestled in its majestic mountains with a peekaboo view of its crystalline waters and close enough to catch the scent of sea salt in the ocean breeze. White billowy blankets creep in practically unnoticed to inhabit the hollows of the canyon. And you wonder if you have died and gone to heaven as you look down on the clouds pierced only by one or two brave mountain peaks. In a not too distant past, the Santa Monica Mountains stood ablaze, as if hell trying desperately to expand its borders and invade paradise. But today, they stand regal and the orange glow that breaks over the mountain tops is simply the greeting of a new day. A new day in Eden. Where the redtail hawk soars with grace and elegance as it circles and circles above on a mission for self-preservation. Where the silence is interrupted only by the rustling of the leaves of the mighty oaks.

The locals refer to my new home as the Bu as if trying to awaken someone into action. After all, it is inevitable to adopt the laid-back attitude this place brings. Even the currents in the ocean waters seem to have mellowed since the days of the Chumash who referred to the “surf that sounds loudly.” As I stand before the horizon of the lonely sea, the water lapping at my bare feet, all I hear is the hush of the waves. A whisper resembling a lullabye urging me to slumber. It is as if time has slowed down. As if life has rewarded me with a new timepiece whose hands seem to move at a much slower rate. The hours seem to stretch and warp into a longer existence. Making up for lost time. Missed opportunities. I love you’s never uttered.

This is why I arrived here. In the seaside town of Malibu whose name today instills a sense of quiet. Stillness. Freedom. Where I have learned to let my hair dance freely in the wind. Finding joy in the moment. Regaining a childhood sense of amazement. Taking nothing for granted. Fearless.

The universe guides you where you need to be. Malibu. I came here in search of peace. And peace is what I found.

About the author: Rossana G. D’Antonio is a civil and geotechnical engineer who up until recently had limited herself to technical writing. Most recently, she is venturing into her unexplored creative side through memoir, personal essays, poetry and short fiction. Rossana has recently completed her memoir, Tailspin, the heart wrenching experience of losing her brother in a tragic airplane accident. She finds peace in Malibu where she lives with her husband, Freddie.

Thank you for reading and commenting. Please enter our next Travel Writing competition and tell your story.

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Solitude on Mt. Kilimanjaro in Tanzania

Hours after a dim light from an East African moon graced the barren landscape, our ever smiling guides began their all too familiar task of rousing weary trekkers from their slumber. Illumination from headlamps began to fill the cramped sleeping quarters that defined Kibo Huts. The would be mountaineers layered themselves in an impressive spectrum of adventure gear as the patient and practiced guides began to assemble an equally impressive offering; fuel for the frigid, slow walk to the summit of Mount Kilimanjaro.

We were obediently herded into the single file existence we had become accustomed to since crossing the threshold into Kilimanjaro National Park. As our ocular senses began to shed the burden of the previous hours slumber the struggle we would soon face unfurled in front of us. Hundreds of feet above isolated strings of headlamps appeared to float towards the summit under the power of their indiscernible hosts. Progress was slow as our guides attempted to impart the importance of traversing the switchbacks slowly through the countless recitations of the mantra “pole pole!” “Slowly” one foot replaced the other like treads on a tank at the mercy of a scree slope. The sun’s heated rays began to peek over the horizon, illuminating smiles among the group. One final scramble led us over the crest of Gilman’s Point only to reveal Uhuru Peak situated across the crater rim. After making the final leg of the journey, congratulations spread like wildfire. Digital snap shots of time were seized by all in an effort to eternalize their respective struggle(s) to the summit of the tallest feature in Africa. As the air of excitement was interrupted by piercing wind we began our expedited return to Kibo Huts.

Descending, gravity assisted what is best described as a controlled sprint down the scree field arduously surmounted hours earlier. The clear day offered an unobstructed view of Mawenzi Peak. The group was dispersed on the descent so I seized the opportunity to slow my pace. I found solitude amongst the plethora of geological specimens littering the slope. Relaxing into the mountain afforded me the opportunity to reflect upon various facets of my life. Fortunately the wind masked the sound of stumbling fellow travelers and their excited dialog. The white noise provided a sense of isolation, a catalyst for unbiased and emotionally detached thoughts. Beginning with the obvious topic of sitting on Mount Kilimanjaro, I reflected on the decision to attempt as well as the ultimate success of such a feat. My thoughts redirected to fifteen months earlier as I held my son in my arms for the first time. How I desired to complete this trek again with him as my companion was at the forefront of my thoughts. As contemplations of the future developed thoughts of a pending deployment to Afghanistan inevitably began to metastasize. I quickly shrugged away thoughts of conflict, and refocused on my family. Strangely enough, the summiting of Mt. Kilimanjaro was overshadowed by the solitude discovered amidst the scree strewn slope.

While Uhuru Peak provided me a photograph, the serenity of the surrounding landscape volunteered a way of thought and understanding. Understanding that amongst all the white noise of our existence, one must regularly seek out a place of solitude to reflect. Such a location may present itself in the strangest form. For me it was a nondescript scree field in Tanzania. Wisely, I have since found solitude spending time with my family; amidst crowded subway trains beneath the city that never sleeps; and navigating the harsh terrain, culture and political climate of Afghanistan. Without reflection one would wonder, what defines our existence? Is it dutifully checking life’s boxes or rather succumbing to its intoxicating effects? Either way it’s unlikely to experience the intoxication of life while sobered by white noise and regret.

About the Author: John Milicevich is a twenty-five year old Infantry Officer in the United States Army who, at the time of writing, is deployed in support of operations in Afghanistan. When the opportunity presents itself he loves to seek out life’s adventures with friends and family.

Thank you for reading and commenting. Please enter our next Travel Writing competition and tell your story.

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Windows Phone Update with the Rajnas!

Thanks to Nokia and Microsoft for sharing our story in their latest Windows Phone Update through their Newsletter:

Nokia Lumia owners: Is it time to plan a vacation?

With your Nokia Lumia, you don’t need to pack a camera. Traveler and writer, Lisa Rajna, recorded her travels in South-East Asia with her Nokia Lumia 925. Follow Lisa’s story: 

“The powerful camera was far superior to what we were using and the Internet access and applications that were available opened up a new world with this innovative device”

Seeing the world is many people’s dream, and with inventions like the commercial airliner, taking time out to explore cultures and climates around our planet is very possible in this day and age. Having a powerful and reliable device to record our adventures is also within our grasp, and that’s why we have traveller and writer, Lisa Rajna, to tell her story of when she took the Lumia 925 with her to South-East Asia…

We are honored to trial a Nokia Lumia 925 and share our stories!

Read the full article: Click here

Want to read more from George and Lisa? Traveling in Sin is available on Amazon.

Traveling in Sin is a TOP TEN Hot New Release! from Lisa Niver Rajna

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From Legian With Love on the Beach in Indonesia

I was in love the moment I laid eyes on the beach. It was beautiful and warm, and strangely magical too. I know it sounds like a cliché, but I have never felt so at home in all my life. As John F. Kennedy once said “We are tied to the ocean. And when we go back to the sea, whether it is to sail or to watch – we are going back from whence we came.” Those words could not be more true to me at the time.

Bali captured my heart from the first moment I stepped off the plane almost 10 years ago. It was my first time out of Malaysia and Singapore and I took to the island immediately. The people were friendly and always had a warm smile, the food was something I had never tried before and the landscape was the stuff of legends and dreams. Granted I was on a tour (my first and last!), but I saw enough of this beautiful island to know that I will return again and again.

On my most recent trip to Bali, I ended up staying near the Legian beach. My friend and I made it a point to wake up early one morning just so we could take a walk over there. For someone who finds it very difficult to wake up on a regular work day, this was certainly quite an achievement. The 15-minute walk to the beach was lovely and dare I say much too short. We came across locals getting their shops ready and going about their morning prayers with offerings to the Hindu gods. It was a refreshing sight from the somewhat crowded Kuta scene.

As we approached the beach from a little pathway, we started smelling the distinct saltiness in the air. And then, there were the sounds of the waves crashing onto the beach. For a bunch of girls coming from a city, this was a real treat. Legian beach looked amazing in the morning light. I never felt more energised and inspired. Maybe it was the fresh air or maybe it was the way the sea looked that very morning. It was made all the more special as it was a wonderful time spent walking about, taking pictures, and talking about life with a dear and good friend.

Needless to say, I went back to the beach everyday after that. And everyday, I saw the same people, the same dogs, the same surfers. Yet, it never seemed boring or mundane. Far from it! I always felt a sense of familiarity and calmness. It was strangely different but in a wonderful way. I suppose I knew from that day on that my sense of wonderment will never cease as long as I continued travelling, as long as I continued discovering the world and as long as I opened myself up to new experiences.

I am pretty sure there are far more beautiful beaches in Bali or anywhere else in the world, for that matter. But the beach in Legian will always have a special place in my heart for letting me see how important it is to savour every moment. Like everyone else, I have my regrets. However, it all seemed to have disappeared when I set foot upon that beach. Whatever happened in the past eventually led me there and I will be forever grateful for those moments.

As we go about our daily lives, we seldom stand still and take in all that nature has to offer. We, more often than not, take a lot of things for granted. But it is places like Bali that remind us that there is so much more to life than the things we own. There is so much to be inspired by the beauty and the people that surround us. It may not be a beach in Bali, but I know now, more than ever, that beauty is around us wherever we may travel to.

If only we took the time to discover it. If only we took the time to accept what it can teach us about ourselves.

About the Author:

Name : Kavitha Subramaniam is an amateur travel blogger and photographer, I am learning as much as I can about writing, particularly travel writing. I am constantly inspired by the people I meet on my travels and I can’t wait to discover more of this amazing world.

Thank you for reading and commenting. Please enter our next Travel Writing competition and tell your story.

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The Land of Milk and Honey in Israel

The Land of Milk and Honey

In February 2011 my husband, Luke, and I boarded a flight from the USA bound for Tel Aviv. After 11 hours in the air we arrived in the Middle East. We had dreamed of making this pilgrimage for most of our lives. The thought of walking in the footsteps of Jesus, King David and the prophets gave me chills. This would be an inspiring visit to the birthplace of the world’s three major religions.

We left behind 15 beehives on our small farm in Indiana. Weather reports predicted a rare warm spell for the Midwest giving us an opportunity to peek inside the boxes to determine how many colonies had made it through the winter. But that task would have to wait until we returned home a week later. I prayed that we would at least lay eyes on some of the native bees of Israel while we were there.

It didn’t take long for our first sighting. It happened while exploring the ruins of Caesarea on the Mediterranean Sea the next day. The other tourists must have thought we were crazy snapping pictures of insects while they were busy lining up the perfect shot of the engineering wonder of the roman aqueduct. But they soon got used to our enthusiasm and gained a whole new perspective of this country through our eyes.

The capitol city of Jerusalem was a two day affair. While there we admired such places as the Upper Room, the Western Wall, and the Dome of the Rock Mosque. My legs ache just remembering walking the hilly ground of the old city along the route of the Via Delarosa or the way of the cross. Thankfully the next day’s walking was downhill. A short bus ride took us to the top of the Mount of Olives where we enjoyed a camel ride before descending past the Jewish cemetery and through the Garden of Gethsemane just outside the city gates.

It was then I began to wonder why this place was referred to numerous times in the Bible as a land flowing with milk and honey. After all I had only seen one bee so far and that had been three days ago. Almost as if on cue a honeybee buzzed past my ear. God’s creation was speaking to me. This was but one of many little miracles that occurred while experiencing the holy land.

During the remaining three days we stood atop Mount Carmel and saw Nazareth but unfortunately never got to walk in its streets. We toured the Holocaust Museum but ran out of time before getting to the museum where the restored scrolls of antiquity were housed. We marveled at the massive stone columns still standing in the town of Capernaum and the national park at Bet She’an. We stared in awe at the intricate mosaic tiles on the floors in the church at Tabgha. Along the way our favorite bugs were always present. They were there dancing between wild red poppies blooming at Megiddo. They were abundant when we ascended to the top of the Mount of Beatitudes to get a spectacular view of the Sea of Galilee. And they made themselves known along the Jordan River where we stopped to buy handmade wood carvings made from the area’s olive trees.

Our final day was spent driving across the dessert, seeing the Bedouins as they herded flocks of sheep and goats just as they have done for centuries. We viewed the caves at Qumran, rode the cable car to the fortress of Masada, and relaxed by floating in the mineral rich waters of the Dead Sea. Regretfully, we didn’t make it into Bethlehem or Jericho.

With spirits renewed and minds full of precious memories we left with a slight feeling of sadness. As a consolation we would take back hundreds of pictures, a few souvenirs and seven containers of sweet honey. On the long flight back we planned our return trip – someday.

Dozens of questions from family and friends greeted us back home. My best advice to them was to go and not be afraid. Go and meet the friendly people there. Go and be immersed in the history and culture. But be sure to allow plenty of time when you do. Six days just isn’t long enough to do it justice.

Oh, and if you plan to bring back any eucalyptus or date palm honey make sure to pack plenty of Ziploc bags. I found out the hard way that pressure changes during air travel tend to pop the seals on jar lids. I had a sticky mess on my hands when it came time to unpack our suitcases. A sweet, finger-licking good mess to be sure, but a mess all the same.

About the Author: Stacey Pauley is an American healthcare worker who enjoys the simple life of farm living caring for lots of animals both domestic and wild. She loves beekeeping, growing orchids, writing, painting, quilting and photography.

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Virgin Hills of Munnar, India

Munnar, often called the “Switzerland of India,” beckons tourists to visit and re-visit to relax in its breathtaking natural beauty. A hill station at 1600 meters above sea-level, Munnar is the meeting point of three mountain streams and is situated in Idukki district of Kerala in the Western Ghats of South India. The picturesque town is sprawled with emerald-green tea plantations and surrounded by forests, hills and valleys along with waterfalls and wildlife – making it a nature-lover’s paradise. It offers so much to see and behold that one trip never seems enough, and you would want to come back again to rejuvenate your body, mind and soul.

Away from big city’s hustle and bustle, you have hundreds of activities to do and enjoy. You can bring peace to your soul by visiting tea plantations, spice garden, and wildlife sanctuaries; give your body a good workout by trekking and hiking; relax your muscles and nerves through a revitalizing Kerala Ayurvedic massage and spa; give your taste buds a treat of scrumptious food, or indulge yourself in great shopping.

I fell in love with Munnar when I first visited the place about two years ago in 2012. The heavenly charm of rolling tea plantations in the near and distant eye vision is etched in my mind even today. These plantations of world’s best Nilgiri tea, lying at varying elevations, leave a hypnotic effect with the backdrop of mountains covered with white mist. Coffee, cardamom and other spices’ plantations add beauty to the surroundings. A visit to tea estates and spice garden must be there in your itinerary. Tata Tea Museum is a great place to learn more about the history of tea processing and how Munnar became a tea plantation town. Mattupetty Lake and Dam are located at about 13 km from Munnar city. The huge lake is ideal for boating, and the reservoir is an idyllic place that also serves as a waterhole for the elephants in the region. Mattupetty also boasts of an Indo-Swiss dairy farm where high quality cattle are reared. Top Station is about 40 km from Munnar and at 1880 meters above sea-level. The place offers a panoramic view of Western Ghats and the valley of Theni. Walking through the clouds and mist simply takes your breath away. The way to Top Station is very scenic and is a pleasure in itself.

A valley of a thousand shades of green around Munnar is a magnificent sight and pulls you to explore the region on foot or on bicycle. Exotic flora and fauna are scattered all across. The famous Neelakurinji flower that blooms once every 12 years and covers entire hillside with purple blue carpet is nature’s charisma, which you can witness only here in the entire world. Since the last bloom occurred in 2006, the next bloom will be in 2018.

Eravikulam National Park is located at about 15 km from Munnar. It has endangered species of Nilgiri Tahr (mountain goats), deer, bisons, lemurs and elephants. Lakkom waterfalls are a part of the national park. The cascading waterfalls and glorious surroundings attract tourists in hordes. Atukkad Waterfalls are just 9 km away from Munnar but show their true splendor after the monsoon. Sandalwood forests of Maraiyur are further along the Eravikulam National Park and adjoining them is the Chinnar Sanctuary where you can meet with the grizzled giant squirrel and the star tortoise. Further on, you can also enjoy viewing of pre-historic cave paintings.

At the end of day, massage and spa are all you need to get rid of aches in your body and then splurge in a gourmet traditional food or multi cuisine meal. Hotels and homestays are available in all budget ranges. You can select from a vast variety of tea and high quality spices for souvenirs. The 60 km region around Munnar is riddled with places that are a tourist’s delight. Munnar is a vacation jaunt that breathes fresh life into the tired souls.

About the Author:  Sandeep Sinha loves writing and poetry. He has traveled 17 countries in Asia, Europe and North America. While traveling, Sandeep has learned eternal truths and continues to evolve every moment.

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