Agafay Desert, Morocco
Twenty miles south of Marrakesh lies a dry, undeveloped desert that captures the silence of centuries long gone. Amidst the dust and dirt, hordes of wild dogs wind through the ancient riverbeds as camels make their slow ascent to shallow peaks. Thin, flat clouds span the horizon and a quiet man with a long beard brings patrons hot tea and tagine. The sky is captivating, and even the men who’ve worked there for years marvel at the expanse.
When night reaches the sprawling landscape, the quiet becomes even more whole, and the stars react with their humbling presence.
Dubrovnik, Croatia
To be weightless is to be free.
On the cliffs of Dubrovnik, children plunge from 30 foot drops into the dark, nearly black waters below. My mother and I dare to join them. Our hearts beat with fury and delight at the sight of our toes dangling off of warm, wet stone. We jump.
And when we hit the surface, I expect to drop, but the water suspends us–thick with its salt and energy–and cradles us as we float among the waves.
In town, we’re greeted by delicious mussels and infinite alleyways. We are lucky to be lost in a beautiful place.
The Alps
Madrid, Spain
Madrid was filled with soul-warming surprises, like these two twin pups resting beside their owner on an open book. The pair was dozing off long before I snapped this pic, but the little guy on the right was fighting with all his might to stay awake so he could protect his dad against the rough and tumble crowd at the Michelin Star restaurant across the street.
Madrid was a beautiful city, one of my favorite European cities. The food was undeniably delicious and the architecture was lovely.
We visited a few museums and took a food tour before heading off to Granada, Spain to check out Alhambra.
Paris
Shenandoah National Park, Virginia
Not every trip goes according to plan. It was our one year anniversary. He’s very outdoorsy–an eagle scout, to boot–and I’m more of the couch-surfing type.
It was wet and cold with the ground freezing over in late November, the last weekend the campgrounds were open. Yet despite the cold and the recent rain, my partner was sure he could build a roaring fire.
He gathered. He stacked. He tried to ignite some branches. No luck. “Dry ones,” he grumbled, before turning down the path to the camping store. The kind gentleman there sold us wood, and we tried once again.
This time, there was no blaming the “conditions.” The campers nearby had heady, orange flames, but try as he might, my man came up empty. Some eagle scout, huh? We spent the night shivering in 12 degrees. The next morning, we packed our bags, snapped these awkward photos, then headed home to the peace and warmth of our king bed.
Colmar, France 
I visited Colmar when I was just 11 years old! This place was filled with quiet, clean streets and incredible residences.
I was particularly fascinated by the thatched roofs and the murky water, which we toured on boat one lazy afternoon after I was accidentally served Amaretto in my coffee.
Maybe that experience explains why I am the way I am. In either case, Colmar changed me. It showed me the gift of anonymity…and of strong cafe au lait.
Prague
Cusco, Peru
Oh boy. You might want to sit down for this one.
It all started in one of the seven wonders of the world.
My mother and I hiked the Andes mountains in Peru with a single guide and three alpacas in tow. We hit it off with our guide, Darwin, and he asked us to share lunch with his friends, who lived in one of the rural valleys below. My mom said, “Sure, why the hell not?” As a legitimately diagnosed OCD’er, I could think of about a hundred reasons “why not.”
But I woman-ed up, sang for his friends, and they sang for me. They made trout and potatoes and all of us managed to make good conversation despite the language barrier. I won’t bore you with all the details, but we also encountered a bull that was quite hungry for alpaca and chopped down a log to cross a stream – go team!
Anyway. I got really sick. Like, sweating-through-my-clothing sick. I was hauling off to the little tourist’s room every hour in the small town of Cusco, Peru. But my mom wasn’t buying my symptoms, so the next day, she hauled me up to Machu Picchu. After the perilous bus ride and two hour hike, we made it to the picture-takin’ spot. In case you can’t tell, I’m sporting a fever and a really bad attitude here. Not my finest moment. The doctor came and saw me in our hotel afterwards and happily announced that I had “Salmonella or a parasite.” Obviously, we didn’t love either of these options, so I was driven to the clinic–which needed a major facelift–and tested. Sure enough: Salmonella. We stayed in the hotel room, sans wifi, and ate granola bars for the last four days of the trip. Clearly, I survived. But my gut health has never been the same.
