humanity

If nothing else, travel opens your eyes to the colorful quilt that is humankind.

The Flow
Once I was in the flow everything happened fast. I still remember rising early in the morning in Cairns and saying goodbye at a corner to Jen and then walking to the airport. A few hours later I was in Cairns and a couple days later I was looking at the Pacific Ocean en route to California and then Colorado. The wheels were turning for Japan though. I had applied for The JET Program from Australia. At that time though I had no clue what would happen. So often my life has plopped me right back down on Main Street in Aspen, Colorado and told me to be patient and start over and so there I was. The musical ringing from Australia hadn't subsided and soon I met up with an old friend and we formed a makeshift band. I got a regular gig for apre ski and met quite a few music connections. The glitter was still pouring out that year from Australia and everything was in movement.
By Sound And The Messenger9 years ago in Wander
New Castle To Cairns
I returned from my trip south with a new sense of adventure. So far, the spontaneity card had been working out nicely, and I was eager to try it again. While in New Castle, I had gradually come to know some of the local residents there.
By Sound And The Messenger9 years ago in Wander
China Like You (Didn’t) Know It
Forget whatever you have heard about China previously, this country has too many dimensions and is way too diverse to be categorized singularly.
By Judy Mae9 years ago in Wander
Why I Live In Mississippi
Behind every name, there is a story. The ones we recall are lucky enough to be written down and repeated; these narratives resonate with others and through continued storytelling, people determine the history of our past. 2017 finds us as the chosen ones to transcribe what the future will know about our time and the people who laid the groundwork for the lives of those to come. As William Faulkner succinctly explains, "The past is never dead. It's not even past."
By Virginia Carter9 years ago in Wander
Behind the Sky
One day a driver is headed home from a usual work day. Most drivers listen to music as they travel from point A to point B, but this driver often likes the sound of her own thoughts. Surrounded by the symphony of life, busy streets, high wind, and rubber tires against the concrete road, the driver also hears thoughts passing through her mind and then very subtly vanishing into the abyss until something finally stuck. It was an epiphany. This epiphany appeared as the driver stopped at a red light. Past the interior of the car, past the windshield, past the stop lights, the driver saw clouds, light, and space. What a beautiful sight...what a wonderful thought. To ponder on something greater than the existence of one life and focus on the beauty of the world is priceless. The driver became filled with excitement as she thought freely into the atmosphere. She was grateful for the life she had now, though it grew monotonous. But, experiencing the beauty past the interior of her life, past the windshield of her anatomy, and past the stoplights of her mind, forced her to appreciate the ability to think freely. To have thoughts about what lies behind the usual sky, as unusual as the sky can seem allowed her to express a kind of gratitude that was genuine.
By Jamiah Sandles9 years ago in Wander
For the Love of the Game
One of the best things about living in a foreign country is exploring and becoming immersed in the local sports scene. When you’re living outside the U.S., a different kind of football takes precedence over all of the sports combined. Football, in most countries, is the national sport and one in which kids from an early age learn to play and master over the years. Whether it's a city street, a dirt field, or turf glass, football is an adaptable sport to any kind of climate which is why it's such a famed world sport.
By Ben W9 years ago in Wander
White Blank Page
I closed my eyes and absorbed the darkness, letting everything around me come alive. I had roamed the streets for hours, taking it all in: the smell of melted mozzarella on the world’s finest pizzas; the ghostly decadence of the city’s oldest buildings; a loud melody, Chopin perhaps, can be heard through an open window; the dazzling chaos of roses, daffodils and poppies sitting on sills, stealing each other’s colours; and the repetitive navy-and-white striped men, proudly parading visitors down Venice’s shimmering canals. As I reached San Marco, Venice’s personal hotbed of human stench and anarchic clatter, the sweltering summer air was hard to take in. The waves of flickering cameras and the howling chatter of the crowd engulfed the piazza. Revolted, I wriggled away from the daunting humanness. I moved away from the crowds seeking silence. The chatter faded away, as did the Sun and the unbearable trail of heat it left behind.
By Carlota Maura9 years ago in Wander
Just An Old Country Road
Unless you have lived in a city all your life, you probably have driven or walked down a country road. Sometimes it's a road home, a road to Grandma's house or to a favorite fishing or hunting spot.
By Walt Page9 years ago in Wander
Against All Odds: Tandeka's Story
The Sun beamed and I could feel the hard heat on the back of my neck. The grass shuffled, and we all stood there, quite still, quite petrified, before a beast we knew could tear our heads off in a matter of seconds. It isn’t easy to explain how, as I stood there knowing how deadly her fangs piercing on my skin would be, I felt no impulse to run as fast as I could. All I wanted was to stand there, looking at her for as long as I could, and take in the beauty of her mere existence. As I knelt before her, I felt alone. In my head, the others disappeared, and I felt her gaze upon me.
By Carlota Maura9 years ago in Wander
For the Love of Tagine
Welcome to the blue city. There is a four-year-old child clinging to his cat on the steps of his home. The blue tunnels feel like underwater caves and you almost expect sharks and dolphins to weave between the crowds. There is an old lady selling bread- hard, floury, fresh Moroccan khobz, and a flock of animals and their child counterparts run up and try to steal crumby mouthfuls. The smell of leather, incense and cinnamon loom from musty underground doorways. Handmade jewellery and hair oils line doorways and wooden shops and the pavement is cool and dusty. Doesn’t this sound glorious? This is Chefchaouen, in the far dreamy north of Morocco.
By Imogen Kars9 years ago in Wander
The Purple Backpack
If the little girl I was could see me now, with my purple backpack on my back, old tennis shoes and walking by myself on the streets of Rome, she would smile gladly.
By Angela Duran9 years ago in Wander
Siestas are Interesting
There’s good news in the world but it seems weighted towards the Southern Hemisphere although it starts somewhat north of the Equator. A continent, artificially severed by a canal, curled around a three pronged spine. Long suppressed, exploited and despoiled, it has seemingly shaken its lethargy and from various umbrae is experimenting with innovative solutions to intractable problems. An aroma emerges, the scent of potential tranquility blended with equity and possibly, even joy. But it’s just a possibility, plausible only because of dark distractions almost everywhere else; very, very dark distractions; drawing in entropy, negativity and despair as though from the gravity well of a dead and decaying universe.
By Guillermo Calvo9 years ago in Wander