Crashing at a Stranger's House

Most people think I'm crazy when I tell them that I'm staying with a stranger in Trinidad. I haven't found myself in any freezers as of lately, so I think I'm safe...but really who knows. My host's name is Phyllis, but I like to call her Philly and she is quite possibly the warmest individual I have met throughout any of my travels. 

Now, I'm sure you have a ton of questions. Are you crazy? (Yes.) Why are you staying with this woman? (Because I can.) What are you doing? (Couchsurfing.) What the hell is that? (Read on...)

Welcome to Couchsurfing. An online community of travelers who love to travel, but don't have much to spend. Let's say for example, you're going to Greece. You've paid for your ticket (which I hope you got a good deal on) and now you're looking at accommodation. Couchsurfing allows you to stay with different hosts from across the globe for free. Did you guys catch that? FOR FREE. 

I know you're like "WHATTT??!?!?!!" "How do I do that??!?!?!!?" Well...let me explain.

You begin by creating an online profile here, where you let people know a little bit about yourself: what you like, what you love to do, places you've been, etc. You then search for hosts who are accepting guests and send them requests to stay with them for a duration of time. So, going back to the Greece example, I would find a couple hosts in Greece who are accepting guests, send each of them a small blurb about when I want to stay with them, what I'm coming for, and when I'll be leaving and wait for a reply. Hearing back from the hosts could take a while depending on how often they visit the site, so make sure you reach out to a couple different hosts.

When choosing which hosts you'll reach out to, I always suggest that you stay with an individual who has many references. Make sure to read these references and see what others are saying about the individual, the space, the location of the home etc. If you would feel uncomfortable in the setting described, do yourself a favor and find another host.

Once you finally find a host who is willing to welcome you into your home, you coordinate with them accordingly to accommodate your arrival and your stay. You are now not only touring, but seeing the country/city/state from a native's perspective, and for me, that's what traveling is all about. Instead of the touristy places, you'll get to see all the "hole-in-the-wall" eats and locations. Instead of being a visitor in your new destination, you transform into a traveler. That's what I love about couchsurfing, it opens you up to a world of possibilities, and the whole damn thing is free.

Once you've created your online profile, you become a host as well. This doesn't mean that you have to host guests, but it's how the community works, so I would strongly suggest that you open your home to a stranger, just like someone is willing to do (or did) for you. If you still don't feel comfortable with the idea of staying with a stranger, you can still utilize couchsurfing. If you're visiting a country and want to meet up with some locals, you can contact some hosts and see if they're free to show you around. You can post discussion questions about your area, and some people even use it to find others who are willing to travel with them.

I'm not saying you'll stay in the nicest places, but you'll have a roof over your head, and you're guaranteed a couch if nothing else. Philly, my couchsurfing host, has given me a whole room to myself, so it all depends on what your host has available. As you're staying with strangers, and don't want to be locked up in any freezers, I've given you some pro-tips.

PRO-TIPS

• Make sure your host has a good amount of references, you can even go so far as to check your reference's references.
• Be brave and be open
• If you don't feel comfortable, then LEAVE, no one is forcing you to stay
• Be clear of the house rules so that you and your host don't have any issues
• Stay tidy and neat, especially if you're staying in a common area
• Let someone know where you are and who you're staying with
• Try to arrive in the day, foreign places can be scary at night
• If you see something that you can help with, do so, it's the least you can do (i.e. dishes, cleaning etc.)

The essence of couchsurfing is that you shouldn't have to spend loads of money to see the world. If you find a cheap flight (read here to see how), the next largest expense is always accommodation, and couchsurfing handles that for you. For all of the people who have wondered what it would mean to be able to see the world on a budget, your time is now. Couchsurfing allows you to stay with, connect, and experience genuinely amazing places and individuals who love to travel, not cheaply, but absolutely for free. 

Have you ever couchsurfed? What was your experience like? Would you ever consider couchsurfing? Let me know in the comments below!

Dear Customs Officer: I LIED!

Dear Customs Officer,

I lied. I promise it wasn't intentional, I just really had to get these dates back to the States for Ramadan. I know it's not allowed, but we need them. Sure they have them in America, but they just don't taste the same. I was nervous the whole time too, looking into those shy eyes of yours as you beat me down with questions. "Where were you?" "What was the purpose of your visit?" "What are you bringing back?" I did tell you everything I was bringing back, I just left out the fact that I had dates. ....and the dried hibiscus. ........ok, there's a ton of spices too. I guess that means it was intentional, I lied intentionally.

I'm sorry. It's just that, after you asked me if I was carrying "an excess of $10,000", and I said "I wish" and laughed, I expected my laugh to be reciprocated. I know you probably hear that line from at least every student you ask, but I don't care. Your cold smirk was not enough for me. That was a great joke I made there. I deserved some recognition. You didn't provide me with it, and so I decided to betray you, just as you betrayed me.  

Dramatic? I'm well aware. I just have some serious issues with customs officials. Some seem to be kind, courteous and very respectful while simultaneously tactfully conducting their jobs. Others...others seem to have this superiority complex mixed with a nasty attitude that reeks of "I'm here to make you miserable."

Kind sir/madam, I don't need to be senselessly pounded with questions of my travels. I don't need you staring me down. If I hesitate when answering a question, it's not because I'm lying to you. I've just been traveling for about 15 hours...give me a break. When I tell you I'm carrying no cash with me, it's not because I'm smuggling thousands of dollars from my part-time cocaine trade, it's because I'm broke. You work in an airport, for goodness sakes, you should know where Sudan is. Also, I'm backpacking, so I didn't bring any presents back for anyone, thats regular. Why does it bother you that I went and came back with nothing except a couple keychains? Why do you need to know I bought these keychains? Would you like one? Should I bring you one next time? Shit.

I hear the arguments already forming, "it's their job". My response? No, no their job is not to harass me senselessly and have me palpitating at the thought of them . Their job is to ensure that no contraband of any kind crosses the border. I'm not completely unreasonable, I understand that you need to ask me questions, but do you really have to ask me the same questions that I just answered on the piece of paper I handed to you? I filled it out two seconds before stepping into your line, I promise my answers haven't changed.

Also, would you mind smiling a little bit more? I mean we don't need to be full fledged friends or anything, but maybe you wouldn't piss me off so much if you tried to participate in more of a conversation instead of treating me like I've just entered some concentration camp. I guess I am entering the United States of America, so same-difference huh? 

 And while we're at it, you should know where every country on the planet is, it's kind of your "job". Stop asking stupid questions.   

I appreciate you customs officers who are rightfully doing your job properly. To you, I will never exert my petty. To you I will stay true. To you I will never lie...ok I might (but just about dates, and hibiscus, and possibly spices). 

Sincerely,

                    WanderlustWad

Have you ever had any issues with customs? Let me know in the comments below!

Happy Wandering...

You're Not Trini Until You've Had These

It's been mentioned to me that I speak about food as most would speak of sex. I take great pride in this compliment. I love food, and especially good food. My specialty is sweets, but literally anything savory to stuff into the gaping hole in my face will suffice. As a traveler, my favorite part of any visit is the cuisine.

The two islands located off the coast of northeastern Venezuela boast a rich and vibrant culture and have encased me in a whirlwind of spices, vibrant colors, upbeat music and "wining". The one thing I've heard time and time again about Trini's is that "if nothing else, they will feed you". This sounds like my sort of place.

This "essential foods to try in Trinidad and Tobago" list I've compiled has been curated by my wonderful tastebuds in collaboration with some authentic Trini's. If you've never tried these foods, you can't truly consider yourself a Trinidadian (I don't judge, this is according to my natives). If you're visiting the islands and want a real experience, make sure to knock these items off your list. 

 

Bake and Shark

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This delicacy is most famously found at Maracas Beach. It consists of a homemade bread, the "Bake" which is ironically usually softly fried. The Bake is folded, almost like a pita and stuffed with fried Shark. There are other options like "Bake and Shrimp" and an assortment of different "Bake and Fish" for those not interested in eating shark. My recommendation is to eat the damn shark. When you choose which Bake you'd like, you'll notice that it's dry. The best part of this sandwich is being able to make it your own. There is a salad bar of sorts that allows you to top your Bake with anything from ketchup and salad to mango salsa and green sauce. Each vendor has different options, but staples are: mango salsa, garlic sauce, green sauce, salad, hot sauce. Take caution with the hot sauce, this is no Texas Pete, your mouth will literally be on fire. My toppings included a lot of mango salsa, ketchup, salad, a hint of garlic sauce, and a smidgen of hot sauce, A SMIDGEN.

There are about 5 vendors are selling Bake and Shark, and each vendor has a line out the door. "Richard's" is the most famous stall, but I recommend walking past all of these vendors and making a sharp right when you get to the end. On your right hand side you'll see this no-name vendor, go there. I've indulged on Bake and Shark plenty of times, and this is by far one of the tastiest, most flavorful I've had. 

 

Doubles

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HOOOOOMMAAAGAAAHHHDDD. I love doubles. Vendors sell these on the streets for about 4TTD from small carts. These consist of a fried piece of flat bread topped with chickpeas, chutney, and sometimes even mango salsa, then topped with another piece of flatbread. Eating this is an art, and extremely messy. You take the top piece of bread and pick up as many toppings as you can and stuff it in your mouth. Almost like picking up an upside down taco. Whatever falls over, you use the bottom piece of bread to collect the remains and enjoy. 

The bread is soft, the chickpeas seasoned especially well, and the mango salsa adds the perfect ting (should you choose to add it). They always ask you if you want "peppa", also known as hot as hell peppers. I love spicy food so I always add a bit, but as I've said before, this is not Texas Pete people. Be careful. I've clearly had a traumatic experience. As far as where to go for Doubles, my favorite guy is located on Ariapita Avenue connected to the "Amigo's Mexican Food" stand. My man constantly has a line, but it's so worth it.

 

PASTELLES

Pastelles are basically "Tamales 2.0", which is no surprise seen as Spanish influence has been in the country for years. Above you can watch me make the pastelles. Initially you start off with a banana leaf. You lay it out on a press, lay some oil onto it and then add your cornmeal ball. You use the press to create a perfect little circle. You would have already prepared some minced meat and lots of spices beforehand. You then take the minced meat, add it to the center of the cornmeal and fold it ever so beautifully. These can now be frozen for later use, or steamed and eaten within minutes!

I've never had pastelles from a shop, so I don't have recommendations for a place to go. I recommend you make these at home, as I hear every family makes them a little different to their liking. These are made on special holidays, like Christmas. I obviously got to make them because I'm a holiday all on my own. #SudaneseWadMagic

 

Roti

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Roti wasn't my favorite, but it was still good. It is basically a flatbread that resembles a tortilla, except a little softer, and filled with a protein of sorts. You can have it with goat curry, shrimp, chicken, and beef. I personally had a curry chicken roti. The only surprise was that the bones were still in the chicken. Only Americans expect boneless chickens everywhere. That shit is not natural.  I got mine "to-go", and it was packaged neatly like a burrito. I tried to eat it like a burrito, but that didn't go over so well. The curry chicken juices were flying everywhere, and it was falling apart, and yeah.. I don't recommend eating it this way. Use your hands and get jiggy with it. 

These are sold literally everywhere. On stalls, in corner stores, in restaurants, next to the Doubles man, behind the Mexican restaurant. Roti is everywhere. Try them all and take your pick.  

 

OX TAILS

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Oxtails are the G.O.A.T. , ironically enough. I have never had meat so tender and juicy. It literally falls off the bone. My mouth is watering thinking about it alone. So Oxtails are the tail of a cattle skinned and cut into short lengths for sale. I first had it as a stew, but it can be made as a soup, broth or sauce. I don't know what sort of magic is used to season this delicacy, but as someone who doesn't particularly like red meat, I was sucking the bones trying to get the meat in every crevices.

There is no proper way to eat oxtails. You need to pick it up with your hands and sink your teeth into it, sorry. Leave your forks behind. I had mine with some rice and vegetables, but seriously who cares about anything other than the oxtails themselves?  Go to Kaiso Blues Cafe, one block away from Queen's Park Savannah West, to get my favorite oxtails in Port of Spain. My favorite of all time? HOMEMADE. 

 

Pelau

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It must be something about Caribbean food where the meat just seamlessly falls off the bones. Pelau is no different. This rice-based dish is combined with spices sent down from the GAWDS themselves, beans, protein, vegetables and garnishes. I was told that it was originally made with pork or beef, but chicken is becoming more popular. Once again, what a "shock" that the bones were still in the chicken when I bit into it. This can be an entree on it's own, or it can be paired with a mango chutney (deliciousness at its best). 

Best place to get it? Yet again, HOMEMADE. Margaret, a lovely friend I made, hooked me up day after day. 

KFC

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I'm sure you're just as appalled as I was, but it's true. Every true Trinidadian has eaten KFC at least once in their life. I personally hate fried chicken of the Kentucky sorts, but the ones in Trinidad taste different. Make sure you ask for your chicken to be crispy and spicy, as a true Trini. The KFC in Independence Square yielded the largest profit margin of all KFC's in the world until just last year when Tiananmen Square took over in China. This small island loves fried chicken. 

My favorite KFC has been the one at Piarco International Airport (they don't all taste the same). Ask anyone in Trinidad where their favorite KFC is, and believe me they'll have a preference. I've made it compulsory to have a Big Meal Deal every time I land and take-off from Piarco. If you're from the States, take caution that their large drink is an equivalent to our small. Ohh the land of the brave and the fat...I mean free. 

As you can see, you need to visit Trinidad, if for nothing other than the food. The food is so spectacular because of its heavy Indian, Spanish and African influence. Trini's have such a beautiful culture because it is a mesh of cultures from all around the world. It is a true melting pot, and damn that thing smells good!

WHAT'S YOUR FAVORITE TRINIDADIAN FOOD? LET ME KNOW IN THE COMMENTS BELOW!

Happy Wandering...

Layla: The Smartest Eight-Year Old You'll Probably Never Meet (Part 2)

After my last post about Layla, I dreamt about her. She was exactly how I described her before: big brown eyes and just as feisty as ever! She seemed happy at a time where happiness didn't seem to belong. I woke up that morning thinking of where she was, how she was doing and which tourists took the time to look past her ripped clothes and bare feet to fall in love with her fierce intellect and warm heart. Not many, I presumed. 

If you haven't read the first part of this Layla series, then click here to get caught up!

I had no way of getting in contact with her. Our initial departure was brief but left a lasting impression, and I couldn't stop thinking about her. Around every turn of a corner, there was a memory or a road that led me back to Layla. A beggar, a child with her devilish smile, a hipster with some ripped jeans, it honestly didn't matter, she was everywhere and in everyone I saw some of her. When Layla's face and voice appeared in my Facebook inbox, I couldn't believe it. There she was, healthy, warm and seemingly happy. 

You might remember the lovely man shown above, by the name of Fuat, from previous posts. He was the most amazing friend I could have made while in Istanbul. By some stroke of God, he went on a mission to find Layla after reading my article. Lo and behold, he found her. Fuat expressed that he understood my relationship with Layla a little more clearly after meeting her. He took care of her when I couldn't, and for that I am forever grateful. 

In a time when tensions are running high in a place like Turkey, and the economy is dipping into a low, it is nice to know that there are some who think of others. Fuat didn't have to go out of his way for Layla or I, but he did. It goes to show you that people are kinder than you would imagine In a war zone, I find relief in knowing that Layla has someone watching her back . 

The internet is a funny thing. It connects people in ways we never imagined possible. We are all connected to each other in one way or another. In this moment I feel beyond blessed to have met someone like Fuat. If it weren't for my Turkey adventure, I would have never met him nor Layla. Explore my loves, meet people of all walks of life and build connections with them. You have no clue what a lovely conversation can do for your soul, especially when it's with an unexpected stranger.

Happy Wandering...

This Eight Year Old is Probably Smarter Than You

I met Layla on the first night I ventured alone in Istanbul. I've thought about her almost every day since. Something about the juxtaposition of her big, bewildered eyes, small frame and constantly slick mouth (although, sometimes too slick) drew me to her. She knew too much for her age and too little of her childhood. We connected.

Walking through Istiklal Street is a maze. I wasn't necessarily going anywhere, just wandering. I wanted to take in my surroundings, and my was there much to absorb. Lights streaming from one end of the street to the next, people rushing in all different directions, trolleys ringing their bells, vocal acts, food carts, hookah bars, and random men yelling out, "OOHHH CHOCOLATE, WHAT BEAUTIFUL CHOCOLATE" in the deepest Eastern accent imaginable. After some time, I came to see that I was the chocolate they were referring to. Corny? Yes. Flattering? Umm..have you seen Turkish men? Yeah....go Google! No, I was being serious. Open another tab. Don't be lazy! Fine, click here. You guys make me do everything!

Now that your eyes have been blessed, I can continue...

Walking down Istiklal, the food carts were endless. Corn stands and grilled hazelnut stands, ones that sold simit (don't know what that is? click here), others that sold pretzels, some that sold both, and even oyster stands. It was amazing. I decided to stop at the closest corn stand on my way home. The elderly man working reminded me of a grandfather (I’ve never had the opportunity to meet either of my grandfathers, so I tend to gravitate towards these types of figures). Eyes droopy and filled with experience, a warm smile and welcoming gaze, he warmed my heart. We chatted for a bit and even though I was on the other side of the world, he made me feel at home.

His gaze slowly lowered right before I felt a tug at my skirt. Peering down, I saw a little girl with dark features and a bright pink shirt, she held her hand out and spoke in Turkish. I stared back and told her I didn’t speak Turkish. Her intentions were clear, she was a beggar. Before I knew it, this little girl started to speak Arabic! She pursed her lips and said “ارجوك ساعد ني ” or “please, help me”. I was taken aback, but impressed. I stared back and said “I don’t speak Arabic”. I’m not sure why I lied, I understand Arabic just fine, and her dialect was perfect. The words almost flew out of my mouth before I realized what I had said. She knew though, this eight year old girl knew that I was lying. She looked me up and down, put her hand on her hips and said “well, do you have any money or not?” in English. I was floored. I wanted to know this mystery genius. How can such an intellectual being need to beg for money? She’s like freaking Einstein!

This is how I met Layla. This is the day Layla changed my life. This is why I will never forget Layla. As I walked through the streets of Istiklal with Layla, the hum of the crowds subdued as I listened to her life. She spoke of her past, of her uncertain future, of the streets that have become her new home. Layla is an eight year old Syrian refugee. The war displaced her and her family. Her father died in Syria, and she came to Turkey with her mother and siblings. She wouldn’t tell me where her siblings were (probably somewhere begging) and she told me very little of her mother other than she was ill and in the hospital. When I asked where she slept, she said anywhere. When I questioned where she lived, she said everywhere. I loved her immediately. Amidst the core of the storm, her positivity found a way to still shine.

We talked about her attitude, and she continued to claim she didn’t have one. I laughed and moved on. I asked about her dreams, she looked puzzled almost then looked at me with those brown eyes of hers and slowly turned away. I wanted to take her and run. Run with her to safety and shelter and to a home. I knew that wasn’t possible, but my heart wouldn’t stop hoping, wishing, yearning that I could. During our time together, Layla became quiet when I asked about certain things, I understood that she didn’t want to talk about them. Maybe the memory was too painful to relive, maybe the question too personal. We talked and we laughed and we made the most of our time regardless. What I remember most about our interaction is her smile. Although mature for her age, Layla is jaded, and it seemed that smiles came few and far between. When it came time to say goodbye, we hugged for a while, her unbathed skin holding on tightly to mine. I couldn’t help but feel tears swelling in my eyes as the reality that keeping contact was not an option slowly settled in. That sour truth brought about an overwhelming feeling of sorrow.

As we parted ways, I knew that I would never forget Layla, the eight year old girl genius. Her story changed my life, her attitude keeps me inspired and her smile still haunts my dreams at times. I believe that God places people in your life for a reason, and I feel that Layla was brought to me to teach me the lesson of positivity. Through a time in her young life, darker than any time I have ever been through, she managed to smile, laugh and remain positive about her situation. What right do I have to complain, when there are children living without homes, clean clothes, and sometimes even healthy or living parents? I don’t. I don’t have any right to complain, and neither do you. Everything happens for a reason, and I’m so blessed in all that I have and all that I don’t. Learn from Layla. Let her story be a lesson to you. If there is positivity in a displaced refugee, borderline orphan, there is definitely positivity in whatever situation you’re in.  Stay blessed my loves, and as aways…

Happy Wandering…

 

WHAT KEEPS YOU POSITIVE? LET ME KNOW IN THE COMMENTS BELOW!

How I Almost Died on a Plane and Why I Still Fly Anyways

As you can probably guess by the title, I almost died on a plane once. It's surprising really as there are more people that die in a car than on a plane. I've definitely heard the argument, "Well, there are more cars on the road than planes in the sky". My response: there are also more people on an airplane than in any car I know, so shut it! All of this to say that planes are relatively safe. You should feel comforted in that huge metal contraption. I've always felt safe on a plane, like I was being guided by the hands of God, because what human can really hold up hundreds of people as they fly seamlessly through the sky like that? Planes are really just God's work, I'm telling you. And if you don't believe that, then read on to how He still guided me on that infamous day I almost died while doing what I love most, flying.

On the Infamous Day:

It's officially my second time back to Sudan on an Ethiopian Airlines flight. At the time, I was infatuated with everyone thinking I was Habesha (a word referring to Ethiopians and Eritrians or Semitic speaking indigenous). I loved whipping my little thirteen year old braids back and forth like "Sudanese habiba (Arabic word for dear), not Habesha". What a feisty little kid, am I right? Needless to say, I was living it up. Adopting identities for an 8 hour flight and assisting the flight-attendants with the beverage cart (You can read up on that story here) were seriously the least of my mother's worries...we almost died remember?

As I boarded the plane, everything was playing out as it should be. The greeter checked our tickets at the gate, the stewardess helped us find our seats, the captain came on the intercom to introduce himself. It was a regular flight. Passengers fought for overhead luggage space, small kids were crying because it was a packed flight, and all I could worry about was when they would turn the in-flight entertainment system on. Shortly after, the flight attendants began their safety instructions. This was before all of those new in-flight safety videos were a "thing". (Watch my favorite one here) As the most mundane aspect of the flight experience, I'm glad these airlines switched things up.

What can't the airlines change? The whole takeoff and landing drill. I guess it's kind of important. Gearing up for takeoff, my mother promptly adjusted her seat and clenched my hand. You would think the lady was dying already. She hates takeoffs, and it was always a big scene when the plane was either ascending or descending. There were always multiple prayers read, eyes shut tightly with my poor hand clenched within hers. She's so adorable in that way. I bore the pain and released what was left of my hand as soon as we were at a cruising altitude.

Freeing up my limb, I was able to begin my binge-watching. Any and all movies I had missed or   were deemed "inappropriate" by my mother were now fare game. I remember staring at that small airplane screen for hours. Trying to hold back sleep to get to the ending of one of the "Bad Boys" films was the ultimate struggle. I guess you could say I was "hip" to binge watching before it became a thing. *Brushes shoulders off * I don't remember much about my dream while aboard that plane because well...I was living the dream, I was flying. The next thing I remember is hearing a voice over the intercom instructing everyone to stay calm and sit back down in their seats. As I cleared the crusties from my eyes, I saw a man with a video camera pointing towards the window. Looking for comfort in my mothers eyes, I saw nothing but fear. Actually, her eyes were closed, and she was holding on to us for dear life. Still, fear. That poor woman.

Not even five minutes later, I heard a loud pop and saw a black figurine dash past the window. A tire had just popped off the plane. Sort of an important feature for takeoff and landing. The ground seemed much closer than before, people were out of their seats, flight attendants were attempting to create order from the chaos, but failing terribly. The woman in the row in front of us held on to her baby, and I'm pretty sure almost everyone on that plane believed it was our time. I remember thinking that if I'm going to die, I sure am glad I'm on this plane, surrounded by my family and in the process of doing what I love most. Thinking back, I can't help but glow about my optimism. Seriously, what thirteen year old thinks like that? Feisty and optimistic? Little me was the best!

Bracing for the landing, my brothers and I held on tight to my mom. "I love you", I thought to myself. After bumps, turbulence and undoubtedly some screams along with the multiple memorized prayers, I slowly opened my eyes. Bewildered, I looked outside to find that although we had lived, we were only feet away from the main entrance hall to the airport in Sudan. We completely missed the tarmac. Stepping out into that hot Sudan sun gave me an unimaginable feeling. I felt...alive, and I was! I was in God's hands and he knew my time wasn't up yet. Our time wasn't up yet. I still had a lot more flying to do...

Why I Still Fly:

Most people look at me like I'm crazy after they hear this story. I'm constantly bombarded with questions like "How do you still get on planes?" "And so frequently?" "You must not have learned from that first time, huh?" The thing is my fellow wanderers, I love planes. I love flying. I love travel and adventure and experiences...ohhhh how I love experiences. While I was scared out of my mind, I found solace in knowing that what was going to happen to me was meant for me, and what missed me was never for me in the first place. Just because I had a bad experience on a plane once, I refused to allow that experience to determine my flight experiences for the rest of my life. Albeit, flying for the first time after I almost died, I was a bit apprehensive, this fear eased over time, as all wounds do. But wounds, they heal, and fear, it can be subdued. All it takes is time, patience and a little bit of courage. So while I might be "crazy" for hopping back on plane after plane, this type of crazy is the type I will wholeheartedly embody, because it allots room for growth and room for healing. You can't heal if you focus solely on the wound. Wear your battle scars proudly loves!

 

I want to hear about YOUR travel experiences! What's your favorite in-flight safety video? Have you ever almost died? What's your craziest plane experience?  Let me know in the comments below!

Happy Wandering...

The Beauty of Being Lost

At seven years old I concluded that my brother was dead. Mortified, I watched as my father came crashing to the ground with tears in his eyes. We had lost my brother at Virginia Beach. None of us had any idea where he disappeared to. After frantically searching the strip and having lifeguards check all throughout the ocean, after filing a report with the police and watching my mother losing her mind, I had no doubts that he was somewhere lifeless.

Meanwhile, the little twerp, Lofy, was in some ice cream shop happily licking the last bits of his cone. After having spent a good hour and a half walking the beach, he decided it might be a good idea to find a police officer. What always got me about Lofy's escapade was the fact that he wandered aimlessly for such a long time before he asked for help. It wasn't until an hour and a half later that he felt like he needed some direction.  It didn't even affect him that he had no idea where anyone was or in which direction he was headed. See, even at a young age my brother knew the beauty of being lost. While most kids would cry at the thought of separation from their family, this kid just kept going. And although he gave us all a heart attack and just about ruined our family trip, his insight was inspirational. 

Most of us freak out at the thought of being lost or not having any direction. Whether that be manifested in our daily life or as we're on a road trip, the unknown is scary, and we don't like it! So why is that? What about the unknown makes it so scary? And why do we make it so hard to enjoy? I can't answer all of these questions, but I do know why I am scared of the unknown, and how I was able to overcome my fear to see how eye-opening an experience it can really be.  

I've always been scared of the dark which I think is symbolic of what being lost is; moving aimlessly with your hands out trying to stop yourself from running into something or someone, and making sure you don't get hurt. Our human instinct is to keep ourself safe, and the easiest way to do that is when we can SEE where we are going. Not having that insight into which direction we are headed, or what our final destination is, makes it difficult to make sound decisions.

This is part of the reason that being in your early 20's is horrific as hell. You're looking for some sort of direction, possibly frantically searching for it, and always coming up short. Always feeling like this might not be the way and choosing a different path. You're continuously searching for the police officer to let you know where to go until you realize that you have to be your own sheriff. You have to be the captain of your ship and the driver of your car and boy is it frightening. Being boldly thrusted into adulthood is draining and leaves you frazzled. 

I like to think of myself as an adult. Ok, total lie, I really would like to think of myself as a kid so that I could get rid of my responsibilities, but I'm unfortunately an adult now. As such, I enjoy plans. I can't do the whole "see you around 8" ordeal. What does that mean? 8:15? 8:45? 8:01? Am I really supposed to wait around for an hour to possibly see you? Give me a time!

For me, everything needs a plan. Driving to D.C.? How am I getting there? Where am I staying? What am I going to do there? I just like to be prepared. And more than anything, I like to be in the know. Although I am able to go with the flow, I much prefer to have things worked out. That doesn't mean these plans are scheduled way in advance, just that my affairs are in order. I have no problem jumping on the next flight out, as long as I have a place to lay my head. Even if merely hours before the trip, a plan is still a plan. Getting lost is never in the plan, and that used to be an issue for me. 

How did I make it a non-issue? I traveled. I went out and I saw the world and all that it offered. It was out in the world that I discovered that life has no structure. Things happen at their own time and move at their own pace. I came to realize that the cliché "everything happens for a reason" is remarkably true. All of my time being lost has had some sort of divine consequence that I may not even be aware of yet. Bear with me as I try to explain.

I believe that when you ask for something, life is not one to just give it to you, but to put you in circumstances in which you can gain what you've asked for. It is then your duty to take the proper steps into making your wishes come true. It's like when you ask for patience and you're given a long line at the bank. Welcome to "patience". Sometimes, the opportunities we ask for aren't presented to us in the way we want them, but that doesn't mean they're not presented. I've asked multiple times for patience myself, as well as cultural awareness, and aide in being continuously grateful. Each time I get lost, I believe that it's another opportunity life is giving me so that I may receive one of these things, if not another, that I've asked for. I try to take it as a learning experience. What better way to learn to be grateful than to suddenly find yourself in the slums of Istanbul? Sure, I was headed to a café to meet a friend, and I was undoubtedly going to be late, but that hour I spent walking around trying to find my way, I saw indescribable appearances and situations. Once I finally reached my destination, I drank my coffee voluptuously, knowing how sweet my "misfortune" was in comparison to so many. Gratitude.

I know what I do about the world because of the millions of times I've been lost. In the millions of places that it's happened. I've learned a lot. Because of the hundreds of times I didn't know where I was going or who was going with me. I didn't know who would meet me on the other side, or what events would present themselves. I was scared and I was lonely, but all of those fears manifested themselves into opportunities. Opportunities for growth and for self-knowledge. I've gotten to know myself more, and really discover what I'm made of. Who I am, and what I can and wont do. 

So get lost. Literally, walk out and roam. Turn off your GPS, and know that it's ok. You'll be fine. Trust in yourself and believe in your instincts my lovely wanderer, for you were born to be wild. Life is scary, but there is no cheat code, and your plans will all go awry....because life! Prepare for the unexpected, and learn to roll with the punches. Understand how beautiful it can be to live in the dark, if even for a short period of time. That's why I admired Lofy so much that day at the beach, because even though he was merely seven, he came to understand what it took me twenty-two years to figure out. The beauty of being lost. And you never know, while you're busy being lost, you might end up finding yourself.

Happy Wandering...

9 Official Sacrifices of a Wanderer

I always daydream about traveling the world; the places I've been and the ones I'll soon see, all fill my head. It's wonderous isn't it? The idea of constantly being somewhere new? Experiencing new cultures and widening your horizons to levels you couldn't even imagine were possible! I love that feeling. It's in my character. It's who I am. I AM A WANDERER. 

Albeit, I'm not always on the move (although it might quite possibly seem so), there is a good portion of the year where I am stuck at home, heading to my sub-par job, and engaging in my "normal life". It's horrid. All I can think of when I'm in my bedroom late at night, is leaving. Getting as far away from here as possible, and starting a new life in another place. Staring into the dark, it never occurred to me that the wanderer life may not be the Utopia I was searching for. 

I imagined a life on the move to be a constant voyage, to be adventurous, and exciting, and an illuminative scope on my seemingly dreary world, and it was! What I wasn't prepared for were the downfalls of such a lifestyle. I had never considered that the grass might not be greener on the other side. My recent trip to Turkey (with stops in Egypt and Sudan) has made this cliché more of a reality than ever. Although my departure was for a mere month, there was much that I had yet to learn.

What sacrifices must you undertake to wander? Take these into consideration...

1. Living Comfortably
Say so-long to your personal bedroom. You'll now be sleeping in hostels and sharing a room with anywhere from 3-12 other individuals. Get ready for your new roommates to come back at obscure hours, drunk, have sex on your top half of the bunk-bed, and snore. Wonderful, isn't it?

2. Showering Comfortably
Don't take it for granted that when you enter your bathroom at home, you already have all of your shampoos, conditioners, soaps, loofahs, and razors ready. As a wanderer, you must carry everything with you each and every time you want to wash yourself. When you're done, you'll need to lug those same items out. Though not necessary in every hostel situation, if you want to make sure you're the only one using your essentials, its the safest route.  

3. Locking Up
One thing I constantly took for granted is being able to leave my stuff laying around the room. Whether a book-bag or a random pair of shoes, when you're staying somewhere with other people, its always safest to lock up everything, all the time. It might not sound so horrible until you think about how sucky packing is. Now imagine needing to pack everything up every-time you leave your house...welcome to the first level of hell.

4. Family
You already know this one. You're gonna miss them, unless they're on the trip with you. And even then, they'll manage to get on your nerves. Don't take them for granted though, you never know what you have till it's gone. Especially thousands of miles away.

5. Friends
Just like family, except they don't get on your nerves as much. You'll try to stay in touch using apps like WhatsApp and Viber, but it's never the same. Stories become too long to text, overseas connections aren't the best, and you're left in a slew of "I'll tell you when you come back" and "Wait, what was that? I can't hear you...what?...HUH?". The distance will weigh heavy on you.

6. ICE
It's exactly what it sounds like. Ice is a luxury in case you didn't know. Most places don't have ice, and drinks are served at room temperature. My mind was blown too. That aahh-mazing WaWa ice that you love to crunch on? Forget about it. You'll be lucky to get any sort of ice, let alone have a preference. 

7. Wi-Fi
It is available, though scarcely. When you do find it, the signal isn't that great. When you find a great one, hold on for dear LIFE. There's nothing like being able to surf google freely. Censorship is a thing. Oh yea, forget about any Netflix and Hulu dreams. Non-existent. WTF.

8. Central Air
When you walk into your house when it's summer, you feel the cool breeze. When you walk in from the frigid air, you feel the lovely heat as soon as you enter. Central air is seriously sent from the Gods. It's only common in the United States. I haven't been anywhere else where its a "thing". Walk into a room and turn on the air conditioner for that room. Step into the hallway and Satan's air smacks you in the face. Also, bathrooms don't generally have any sort of ventilated air, except a possible window. That smell. We seriously live in a heaven of sorts. 

9. Hot Water
Waking up in the morning and stepping into a hot shower feels like a hug from grandma, warm and cozy. Your wanderer showers will feel like electrical jolts running through your body, cold and crisp. Not the imagery you would've wanted? Get over it. People all over the world regularly take cold shower, and to have a heater warm your water for you is an extravagant addition, one many can't afford. "Jump in, jump out, turn yourself about" will now symbolize your shower routine. 

Most of the sacrifices you'll make will be the ones you don't even think about. There are many things in the United States that other countries don't have, and you don't realize these things until you leave. Say goodbye to the free public library, and free water at restaurants. Free bathrooms with water fountains right outside are only but a dream. Paved roads and citizens who follow traffic signals are a thing of the past. Constant refills? Prepare to pay.

What all of this has taught me is that you can't get something, without giving up something else.  I never thought that I would ever miss my normal life! But I did. I genuinely missed all the things I take for granted on a daily basis. I'm a wanderer, so you'd think that the last place I would want to be is in the same place I've grown up for over half my life.

I didn't know what I had, until it was no longer available. Traveling doesn't only allow you to appreciate outside cultures and experiences, but makes you see how lucky you are on a regular basis, in your normal life. When you wander far, you notice how close your daily blessings are.

Happy Wandering...