I’m that person you hear about who comes back from a holiday and is already planning the next. I can’t help it. Travel feeds my soul. I think about the world, all the places that I have not been, and I daydream about that next destination. I think about all the places that I have been, with the people that I love most in the world, and I feel very grateful.
I almost feel like I was born a traveller. One of my earliest memories is from 44 years ago on a family trip when I was 8 years old. We travelled from Toronto to St. Lucia in the Caribbean. This was not an easy trip. Back then, it took at least two commercial flights to get close to the Caribbean and then, you had to island hop in a ridiculously tiny plane. I’ll never forget my poor father, a man who still turns green just thinking about motion sickness, who silently suffered as we flew from one small Caribbean island to another until we reached St. Lucia. But I loved it. Every little bump, swish and drop that we had in the planes made my heart race with excitement. I couldn’t believe the sights that I was seeing: the ridiculous blues of the Caribbean Sea and the untouched jungles that seemed to envelope everything else. Nothing looked or felt anything like what we had left behind.
And then, it happened. My mom decided that we should explore the island one day. She was curious to see the sugar cane fields. I will never forget that day. We left this pretty hotel with all the comforts that we just expected in our lives (you know, running water, a comfortable bed, and delicious food) and drove inland. After that, all that I remember seeing is poverty.
I saw one room huts made out of scraps of corrugated metal, dirt, and jungle barely contained. Then, at the end of our day, I saw a family. A father with two little boys, shoeless, running, laughing and smiling, happy despite the conditions they were living in. Still driving in our car, I caught all of this in mere seconds.
At that moment, all I wanted to do was to jump out of the car and go talk to the man. I had so many questions. I wanted to ask him about his life, learn and understand. How did he survive? What did the inside of his hut look like? Was it comfortable? Was he happy? Would the kids go to school one day? Don’t forget, back then, there wasn’t any internet. It seems laughable today, but over 40 years ago, we barely had 10 television channels. I was so completely and utterly curious about what I had just seen. And devastated that shortly after, we were back at the resort.
That moment triggered something deep inside me. Ever since then, I have been insatiable about my desire to travel and see different cultures. The more remote, different, untouched and authentic, the better.
In my estimation, I have taken my children to 40 countries, mostly since 2012. We have gone to Costa Rica, Nicaragua, Guatemala, Colombia, Ecuador, Peru, many European countries, Jordan, South Africa, Swaziland, Zambia, Kenya, Tanzania, India, Indonesia, Thailand, Cambodia and Vietnam.
Prior to 2012, when they were little, I kept things simpler and went to beaches or theme parks, in Hawaii, Mexico and many parts of the United States. My budget was smaller, and the challenges of travelling with young children kept me closer to home. But once my youngest child turned seven years old, it was time to try new adventures. And I haven’t looked back.
I created this blog to share my adventures and experiences with you. From travelling with my family, to travelling with my husband, girlfriends or all alone, I have put together my personal itineraries for you. I hope to share travel and destination secrets that take you off the beaten track and into adventure that you never thought possible. I believe that no matter what age we are, we should never lose our passion for exploring, learning about and discovering new places, new people and new cultures.
The further we go, the more we grow, and the closer we get to those on the journey with us.
I encourage you to join me. Go boldly. Be fearless and find places that feed your heart and soul.
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