Tales of an Urban Nomad

"Like every great traveler, I have seen more than I can remember, and remember more than I have seen." -Benjamin Disraeli

The best decision I ever made, was to get out, and see the world. From the jungles of Belize, to the empowering Rocky Mountains, I have managed to find pieces of my soul, new inspiration, and an over whelming sense of belonging everywhere I go. From the memories of pondering existence on a mountain peak, to listening to the beautiful notes of an accordion, flowing through the streets of Zagreb. I have danced beside the ocean with the local children whilst their parents produce a beat upon turtle shell drums. All the soils I have walked upon have imprinted on me differently.

My first adventures of travelling were as a child. We started to take road trips across the country. Driving from Alberta to Ontario was quite the feat at the early age of eight. Later that year came Alberta to California, which is truly where my love of travel blossomed. I had never seen a desert before or a city as big as Las Vegas. An adolescent mind filled of curiosity. I started to study maps; the more we drove the smaller the world appeared. As a travelling child, I was able to secure these memories in a different way. Lacking intoxicants kept a level head. I started to learn how to read the energies around me, to keep my eyes open, study the details. I started being able to comprehend every place was unique. That geographical location created new factors.

When I hit my teenage years I finally started to go out on my own. Those days just moseying across my own province towards the next big city was quite enough. I, once again, started to see the differences in each place, even if they were only a few hours apart. My hometown is considered 'white collar'. The next city I found was "blue". Industrial areas weren't hidden in far off corners. However, they were scattered throughout for everyone to see, this is where the majority worked. Their downtown had a different vibe as well. It wasn't the usual rushing flow of human’s commuting to the next meeting that I had become accustomed to. Everyone seemingly has an ease about themselves, as if this was an area for enjoyment, not business. They had Parliament buildings, something I had never seen before. As I glazed over the structure, a new appreciation began: architecture. Even in current day, a well crafted edifice or domicile can hypnotize me for hours. Sometimes you only need to go a few hours, to be in a whole new world.

What is reality? Once this question started to roam about, my own province was no longer sufficient. An exploration through the Rocky Mountains began. The Hot Springs in Revelstoke. The massive lakes of the Okanagan The glorious city of Vancouver. Shaking whilst crossing the Lynn Canyon suspension bridge. Pausing for breathtaking views hiking up Goat Mountain. Camping within the forests, throwing a line off the shore. Eating sushi for breakfast, and watching flamenco dancers during dessert. Palm trees of English Bay, handcrafted towering totem poles of Stanley Park. True adventure started to entrance me. My eyes would get misty during these moments, a quality they haven't seemed to lose. The world started to call out, I knew I was trapped within its taunts. What a place to start. British Columbia is truly breathtaking.

I fell in love with Latina culture. I'll never forget the flight attendant calling out, "If you care to look out your window, you will have your first glimpse of Zihuatanejo. Ladies and gentleman we are about to land in Mexico!". My heart skipped a beat. We got off that plane and the humidity hit my lungs for the first time. Our skin started to glisten from the heat. I had never been completely immersed into another language before. This was the beginning of the next few years of my life, the best part? As of yet - I was clueless. Personally, my head started to spin as Spanish flew through the air. Picking up on the accent came so naturally, as if I had spoken my entire life. A group of ten friends, met with our acquaintances at the airport. We separated into two cars; I don't believe my jaw left the ground that entire drive. The colours, the buildings, the people, the markets. Our first stop was Playa -----, we had coconuts cracked, and drank the sweet water. Frolicked in the sand as if we were but children.

We stayed in Zuhjo for four weeks. Played in the ocean, drank ourselves dry, danced with our hips, and ate oyster’s fresh from the water. We went fishing, caught black tunas, even a gorgeous mahi-mahi. We went shopping in markets, took transit with the locals, cheers’ at their watering holes. For an entire month, we lived in paradise. Or only could it seem.

I had never been beside a machine gun. Never walked past a man holding a shotgun casually outside a supermarket. I had not watched jeeps with built-in turrets slowly creep past. Newspapers didn't filter. Dead bodies with blood splatter on the sidewalk? Front cover. Whilst I had always understood I was considerably lucky to be from the country I was; the reality of these people's everyday lives was awakening. Too many lived in homes that were barely a structure. Homes often housing too many for the space, a very dangerous condition for disease to easily spread. There was starvation, poverty, obvious signs of crime. Our "paradise" was but an illusion.

Belize was the next great adventure. Rented a car and drove through the jungle. The Belizean Zoo was the first pit stop. We added to the fun by high-fiving a jaguar. The zoo only houses native species. Their work focused on sustaining the natural habitats, rehabilitation, and conservation of the wildlife. It felt more as if we were just guests allowed to enter their environment to learn unlike visiting any zoo I had previously been to. We continued on, road tripping over half the country. We found a spice farm, that once again allowed us access and an insider’s perspective on the work they did. I had never seen such a large farm filled of so many different commodities. Over fifty spices were being grown, fruits of all shapes and sizes, trees and plants. The tour alone took hours, imagine working each crop. Underground cave tubing, snorkelling, and feasting on Snapper filled our time. Parties in the sand with the Caribbean breeze running through our hair. Small planes over the ocean, Mayan temples of lost crystal skulls. Overwhelmed with Belizean beauty. We found peace among the locals, and comfort in the food.

Oh, sweet Europe. Land of our ancestors.

My journey began in Paris. We rented an apartment in the northeast section of the city. By day we wandered around historical sites, by night we drank champagne & munched fresh strawberries under the Eiffel Tower. The Catacombs were a humbling experience, the dead placed so meticulously. You went into caves, carved out under the city, reaching dozens of kilometers each way. Walls created of nothing but skulls. Skeletons composed arches, benches, and ceilings. Feeling alive on the surface once again, we ate frog legs, and charcuterie platters - while drinking wines crafted to perfection. French sang in the streets, my love of language on an exponential growth rate. We relaxed on the stairs heading to cathedrals during our evenings. Angels peering down on us, feeling guarded and unafraid. Coco Chanel influenced people’s attires, simplicity seemed key within the fashion. Paris had one drawback however; the smell of urine filled the streets. Public washrooms were not made available. Was funding not made available? Once again, I was taking in the political sides of my traveling.

Eastern Europe was a journey through time. I felt as if I had stepped back to an era of revolutions, and power. The buildings towered around us. Built with purpose, respect, and hidden treasures. Every corner was hand crafted; fine artwork carved from the soul within the material. Statues of men who had lead their people into battles to sustain cultures, beliefs, freedom they had persevered for so long. Distortion had taken over sections of community. However, anarchy seemed to be the forward discipline. Croatia, Serbia, and Slovenia were filled of picturesque churches, and rolling hills. We stopped at Croatia’s national park, Plitvice Lakes. Eight lakes linked by one hundred and sixty waterfalls. I wish I could include photos, I’ve never seen such a beautiful sight before in my life. I cried among those waterfalls, overtaken by the magic I felt.

The Greeks had fallen. The more I drove across the country, the more poverty and destruction we found. These people were barely surviving. Mass riots were ensuing in Athens. Starvation visible on street corners. Politically drowning out, they were debating leaving the E.U. Yet, seemingly lacking any form of durability. I was trapped upon an island without money in any bank for days. The catastrophe that was their government, had caused the economics to become frightening. Still, we splashed within the Mediterranean Sea. We danced the streets of Kavos, on the beautiful island of Corfu. I took in knowledge from the local cuisine, furthering my own capabilities. We stayed at my coworkers house, his family took care of us as if we were blood. They prepared us meals, showed us around. During my time in Greece I made sure to take a moment for myself. I listened to the people; attentive to their concerns. Discussed the government, how they felt on the current state of affairs. Greece was a powerful stop in my journeys.

I am a strong believer that knowledge also lies in feelings. Europe showed me how different cultures could interact as if ecological. Parasitism, commensalism, and mutualism had new definitions for me.

I went back to the comfort I found in Spanish roots, South America. Chile was my first solo adventure. Nothing will make you grow as a person like putting yourself onto a new continent - alone. Higher points if you can go somewhere with a native tongue that is different from your own. I made friends during my adventure, even with some we could only use sign language and laughter as conversation. They were happy to teach Spanish every place I went. Unlike French countries, I have always found Spanish countries excited to see you just attempt to speak to them. I was even taught the Chilean national dance. From picking oysters among the crashing waves, to attempting to surf the coast of Pichulimu, Chile stole my heart. Learning new cooking techniques from the locals; oh the glorious grill nights from the bountiful ocean mere steps away.

I jumped onto a place, crossed the Pacific Ocean and landed on Rapi Nui, or "Easter Island" as you might know it. Easter Island is actually the slave name given from the British Colonies, a name they in fact disregard. Rapi Nui was filled of history, head statues, dogs, and horses. That was pretty much it. Listed as one of the most remote places on the entire planet, they only receive approximately 100 000 tourists a year. We rented quads and drove along the shores. We found a beautiful beach nestled in a cove. Woke up in the middle of the night to watch sunrises emerge behind a row of statues, with a volcano towering behind us. In the evening we sat on the docks watching the sunset at the pier. We visited the jail, this was the best place on the island for souvenirs. An inmate played acoustic guitar while we shopped the fares. They had hand crafted every piece. I took time to acquire information on the people that once graced the land. The different heads were different tribe leaders, and the destruction of the statue was a direct implication of the destruction of the tribe. The different tribes fought until there was no resources to fight over, and the population dwindoling into nothing. They joined as one, "The Bird Man Clan". Held yearly competitions for the leader, involving swimming across the ocean with an egg. They had found peace within their own people, finally.

Traveling for me was soul food. I was taught how to depend on myself, without the safety nets of someone I already knew. I trusted my instincts, my gut if you will. I went without agenda, exploration was key. My heart as my guide.

Alas, I took a break. I continued to search within my own country for the answers to questions I didn't know to ask, could only stumble upon. I learned how to stop and analyze the people around me. I developed stronger curiosity in our political parties. Took more care into what I consumed, my waste, my day to day. From my conservative homelands of Alberta, to the socialist ideals of Quebec, Canada truly has it all. Rainforests, mountains, praires, tundra, desert, forests and lakes a plenty. English and French both our considered native tongues. We have stronger immigration expanding our horizons every day. Almost every religon is accounted for, every culture, every race. We truly are a melting pot of the globe.

However, as I conclude my mear glance into the the experiences and places I partaken in, I hope to provide an outlook. An inspiration. I take a moment from every day to stop, and "smell the roses". It might be paying attention to current events in my city, to a bill that is considering passing senete in the next country over, or even a terrible earthquake on the other side of the planet. I made a choice. A choice to explore the world, and now, the entire world has become my home.

Author's Note

- could be grammar still