Travel sometimes gives you beautiful views, but occasionally, it gives you something much more rare: a moment in time you know you’ll never forget. I began chatting in the chocolate shop with a man named Andreas and he asked if I had plans for my last night in Quito. I didn’t. He simply asked, “White or red?” “White or red what?” I said. “Wine.” I laughed and said, “Red, of course.” Since I was traveling alone, I messaged my tour guide, Stephania Nicole, to ask about h

Some cities welcome you with smiles. Quito tosses you into the clouds. At nearly 9,000 feet above sea level and sitting almost directly on the equator, Ecuador’s capital is suspended between sun and mist, mountains and city lights, ancient culture and modern life. When my plane landed, just as Maria had promised, a driver named Miguel was waiting for me with a sign with my name on it. He took me to my hotel in La Floresta, a beautiful neighborhood just outside Quito’s h

Sometimes when you travel, you visit a place. Other times, you find a home. I thought I was simply spending a few days in Cuenca, Ecuador. Instead, I found myself welcomed into a family, sitting at their table, wandering markets together, and realizing that the most meaningful parts of travel are rarely the places—they’re the people. Maria and I met at “therapy camp” three years ago. We shared some of our darkest and deepest secrets and have held space for one another duri

“You are going to Guayaquil?” Jack threw back the last swallow of his local Belize beer. “You know they call that city the kidnapping capital of the world?” Then he proceeded to tell me that a taxi driver drove him out to the middle of nowhere and tried to bribe him out of a hundred dollars to take him back to the city. Jack called his bluff and he made it back safely. This was like the fifth person I had met throughout Central America who questioned me about why I was goin

By the time I arrived in El Salvador, it was late. We pulled down a side street through a big arch that read El Tunco. Streets were full of people milling around, beers in hand, laughing and chattering. It felt like Tamarindo, Costa Rica mixed with Seaside, Oregon — a surf-town energy with a rustic edge and pupusa shops next to coffee and smoothie bars. Las Palmas Hostel welcomed me with a pool party, beers, and a crowd mostly in their twenties and thirties. Things were hop

So I wanted to get into El Salvador from Nicaragua, but I ran into some problems: the flights were really expensive a bus ride would was be incredibly long the border crossing via bus would cross through Honduras, which is dangerous right now So back to the drawing board. When I looked at flights to Guatemala, on the other hand, they were half the price and upon further review, there was a layover in San Salvador. So what if I just got off in San Salvador? Could I do that

The first thing I noticed when I arrived at my hotel in Granada, Nicaragua was the artwork. There were small paintings on each of the doors some of little geckos, iguanas,and butterflies. There were bigger paintings hanging through the lobby, the walkways, and in every room by the same artist. At first, I thought the work seemed amateur, but when I looked closer at the painting behind my bed, I felt drawn in — its simplicity or innocence came through and I could feel the p

I’m sitting here by an infinity pool, immersed in a dreamlike escape. The sun shines on this Orotina, Costa Rica retreat, with the wind gently blowing. The jungle is filled with the call of birds and the squeals of howler monkeys. Is this a mindful adventure ? I pinch myself. No, I’m actually here, traveling solo in one of the most beautiful destinations in the world. Just days ago, I was collaborating with a group on a mural in Nuevo Arenal, and now I see the photos of my

As I left the pharmacy and walked back to my car, I noticed something strange. My purse felt light, almost empty. Then, I remembered. I had cleaned it out and there was nothing extraneous in it. Every item had a purpose. Every item had a place. Somehow, that small feat felt symbolic of a much bigger theme in my life. I’ve spent the last three days clearing out my studio and preparing both my house and studio apartment for Airbnb rentals. It’s amazing how many boxes of clothe

Growing up, my parents were very encouraging of my sister’s and my talents. Early on, they saw what we did in our free time or on the sly at church. Soon, we were overhearing them say proudly, “Elida is the artist and Danielle is the writer.” We took those labels to heart and, in a sense, they were true. I do like to paint and she likes to write and so, naturally, I became an artist and she became a writer. But little did we know that those labels could be restrictive. D