solo travel
You've got somewhere to go, but no one to go with; solo travel is the nexus of independence and opportunity.
Are You Ready To Be Committed?
Nestled in The foothills of a little town known as Weston, WV, there exists a place brimming with history. It's a place of sadness, madness, and the macabre. If you are a lover of history, this is a place to visit. If you are a lover of the paranormal like I am, this is a place to visit frequently. No two visits are ever the same because you learn more each time you visit. The money that is charged for these tours, goes directly into this historic landmark, and that is visible to you also. (Not sure about you, but I like seeing where my money is going.)
By Serena Futch9 years ago in Wander
Plant Based
I remember being in college and wondering why I should try to go vegetarian. Why were people vegetarian? At the time, I ate everything and I ate a lot of meat. I had grown up as an endurance athlete in the high mountains of Colorado and I felt the most important part of diet was getting outside and running up mountains. I loved the outdoors and even more so, I loved going uphill and the feeling I got at the top.
By Sound And The Messenger9 years ago in Wander
Learning to Love Vietnam
A while ago, I was living in Chiangmai, in Northern Thailand, while writing a book. Every three months, I had to leave Thailand to renew my visa, so I'd take a trip to one or other of the nearby countries, stay a week or two, then come back. These visa runs were special - a quick infusion of the new to break up my routine in Chiangmai
By Roger Wells9 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
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
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
