The End is Really Just The Beginning

June 16, 2016 / Rachel Sherburne / 26 Comments

On a trip of firsts, this is my first time flying across an ocean solo. And while I feel a twinge of sadness leaving Natalie and Katy in Europe, I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that God is calling me home.

The flight map displayed on the screen in front of me shows a long green line from Istanbul, Turkey to Atlanta.

I left Spain last night and flew from Rota to Barcelona landing just after midnight. My plan was to sleep in the airport and thanks to a yoga mat, neck pillow and a sleep sheet, it was a pretty impressive make-shift bed (if I say so myself), though still not really comfortable.

I donned my trusty eye mask and earplugs hoping for some good shut eye, but a few hours later I awoke to the sound of voices nearby. At 3:37 a.m. people were already lined up to check in for the 6 a.m. flight from Barcelona to Istanbul.

Despite my casual approach to travel these days, there are many others who clearly take the “arrive two hours prior to an international flight” advice seriously.

Four hours later I was in Turkey. And nearly four hours after that I boarded this flight back to the States. Staring at the world map, it’s hard to comprehend that only a year ago visiting far off places like South America, Australia and Asia seemed like a dream. And now, in just seven months I’ve completely circumnavigated the globe.

Of course, it didn’t happen overnight or effortlessly. It took months of hard work, research, planning and organizing to deconstruct the life I had built in Virginia and handle all of my physical stuff before Natalie and I embarked across the country for a three-month stint in Mexico. We started writing and called our blog, “The Great Enlivening,” because we hoped and believed our journey, wherever it led us, would be just that.

With nothing but a one-way ticket to Buenos Aires, Argentina, a backpack and a two-night hostel reservation, we left America on February 6, 2016, not knowing what exactly this adventure would look like, but confident we were supposed to be on it.

Since then, I’ve visited 15 countries and traveled thousands of miles by dozens of flights, taxi rides, buses, trains and two rental cars. I’ve stayed in countless hostels and hotels and converted currency more times than I care to remember. I’ve gathered an impressive collection of passport stamps, contracted two parasites and improved my language skills as I immersed myself in unique cultures around the world.

I’ve climbed mountains like Machu Picchu…

Gone scuba diving in the Great Barrier Reef…

Enjoyed exquisite food…

A LOT of food…

Practiced yoga like never before…

Served others…

Laughed…

Cried…

Met amazing people from around the world…

Visited with long time friends…

And traveled with two incredible women with whom I not only shared these experiences, but also my heart.

It’s taken me a long time to get here. But I don’t mean 35,000 feet over Port-Cartier, Canada, where I currently am. I mean here.

For the first few months of the trip, I spent a good amount of time looking back at my life. There were unanswered questions I was still wrestling with. Why did my marriage end? What could I or should have I done differently? Where was God’s will in all of this, and how did mine line up with His?

Through lots of prayer, journaling, and hours of heart-to-heart conversations with Natalie, I gained clarity. Sometimes God gave me a fresh perspective and the ability to see things through His eyes. Other times, He encouraged me to consider different questions all together. And on a few occasions I felt Him asking me to let go and accept that there were some questions I might never have concrete answers for (at least on this side of Heaven) and that it was okay. That I would be okay.

During this time, He also brought to my attention several hidden wounds in my heart I didn’t even know were there. God walked me through those too, helping me to heal, grow stronger and open myself up to the possibility of loving again.

Through a completely divine appointment, He even sent a special person to guide me through this process. To this amazing man (you know who you are), thank you for being so genuine and caring with my tender heart. You’ve reminded me that marvelous men exist, that an open heart is a wonderful thing, and that the right man will want to fight for, cherish and protect it.

But during this season, despite some romance, God made it clear that it wasn’t time to be looking for a husband.

It was time to explore the world around me, to “see beyond” what I could see with my eyes. Sometimes it was rethinking my philosophy on life and the expectations I and others have placed on it. Sometimes it was considering the unique ways people live in other places and finding the best practices to adopt from those. But more often than not, it was peering into the eyes and the souls of those I met and discovering that despite differences in age, religion, race and socio-economic status, deep down we are very similar. We’re all human beings on this journey called life and we all share the same innate desire to be loved.

As my focus turned outward, God was birthing something within me: A renewed dream of being an instrument to inspire others to live a truly enlivened life. A desire to become the best version of myself and help others do the same. A longing to follow wherever He may lead and live for His glory.

And God was also helping me synthesize some of the lessons I’d been learning along the way, like:

There’s no such thing as a “normal life” and I don’t want to live one anyway
Sometimes it’s okay and really good to NOT have a plan
Happiness is an inside job
Life is short, an invaluable gift, and at the same time, not that serious
Where I am in the world isn’t nearly as important as who I’m with
Living presently, passionately and loving deeply is the recipe for a beautiful life
Every person has unimaginable potential within

These, of course, are just a few highlights. I could write a book about my experiences traveling the world and how it changed me. How I am physically darker (thanks Spain for the tan) but Spiritually so much lighter. How according to my bank account, I am poorer, and yet, my life is so much richer. How I am still “single” but I have more love in my heart than ever before.

Maybe one day I will write and publish that book, or I’ll be a famous speaker. Perhaps I’ll be a wife and mother. Or maybe I’ll live abroad in a big city, or end up in small town America.

Honestly, I don’t know what my life will look like in one month, much less one year or a decade. But I know that it’s time for me to head home and see my family. God has been whispering that in my heart for several weeks and He finally told me the time is now. That what needed to happen on this trip has prepared me for whatever is to come. That while I’m not still traveling with Natalie and Katy (who are currently loving life in France), this isn’t the end of of the Great Enlivening for me, it’s just the beginning of a new chapter.

I’ve learned living a truly enlivened life doesn’t require exploring foreign countries, but continuing to explore my heart and what God is showing me. That it’s not dependent on where I am but who I am. That it’s not about what I have but what I share with others.

I imagine one day I’ll look back and tell my kids and grandkids about this year of my life. I’ll show them pictures of unbelievable places and recount the story about how I left everything behind to find out what the world had to offer.

But what I want them to understand is that this Great Enlivening ended being much more than a trip around the world. That it was a deeply Spiritual pilgrimage that challenged me to think differently, act differently and love intentionally. And how ultimately, what I ended up finding was not only myself, but how to truly live.

Alegría De La Vida

June 10, 2016June 10, 2016 / Katy Ryan / 3 Comments

As we drive form Madrid to Sevilla I’m overwhelmed by what I see, fields of sunflowers all over the rolling hills of the Spanish countryside. I smile every time I see more of them, but it is pretty difficult to take a good picture of them as Felipe coasts down the road.

While in Spain we decided to rent a car because it was less expensive than train tickets and it allows us to see more of this amazing country. Natalie has named our new ride Felipe, who is an upgrade from our last car Frida, because he has a bit more room, a built in GPS and an audio hook-up so we can rock out to our favorite tunes. But there’s a reason Natalie choose a male name for Felipe: he has the typical traits of a man in a car on a road trip. He’s a bit vague when giving us directions, when he gets us lost he does not admit it, he’ll just blurt out more directions and tries to forget about how turned around we are. But we forgive him and make it to all of our destinations without too much trouble.

I think I can say that for all three of us it is wonderful to be in Europe, and Spain has been a fantastic first destination. Asia was amazing and I know we all learned so much, but there is a comfort level here that is nice. Both Rachel and Natalie are enjoying speaking Spanish again; I myself have not spoken any in about 10 years, but it is coming back to me. I remember certain words and try to work them into conversations. Luckily most people in Spain speak way more English than I speak Spanish.

When we arrive in Madrid I can feel that something is different here. For one thing, the weather is amazing. We left behind 90+ degrees and traded them in for 70 degrees. The sun doesn’t set here till about 9:45p.m. which can really throw your body off. Time change, a long day of traveling from Bangkok to Madrid via Moscow and late sunsets can add up to a messed up sleep schedule. I think it took me two nights to get adjusted.

On our first day we join a group from our hostel for a walking tour around the older parts of the city. We walked to the palace, cathedral, past numerous statues of kings and so many wonderful places. Our tour guide Viviana showed us some of her favorite spots, like a café famous for its churros con chocolate…YUM

As we walk around the city there seems to be a sense of joy. There are so many cafes and restuarants with outside seating either on the sidewalks or flowing into the squares. Everyone has a coffee or glass of wine with a smile on their face. I don’t think it is just the alcohol consumption at all hours of the day, I think there is truly an appreciation of life here.

The ability to not work yourself to death, but to make time to spend with family and friends. They take 2 hour lunches and siestas, have tapas around 5p.m or 6p.m. followed by a nap and finally around 10p.m. they go out for dinner. This does not even include the young crowd that goes out around 2 a.m.! Let me tell you, this 30 something year old was not ready for the nightlife here.

In front of the Royal Palace

We loved our time in Madrid but it was time to begin the road trip to Sevilla. We honestly didn’t know what to expect but everyone has told us that it is one of the best cities in Spain. Though we only have one night there, we plan on making the most of it! After checking into the hostel we ask the woman at the front desk where we should go if we only have one night; she pulls out a large map and circle two options.

We freshen up and begin to walk through the crowded streets. As we come upon a square our ears our filled with music. I am not sure what the occasion is but there are bars lining the square and a stage at the end with groups dancing the flamenco. What a lovely treat in the city where it was created. We make our way to the restaurant and have a wonderful meal enjoying all that surrounds us.

Rachel and I go on a walking tour the next day and we fall in live with the city. This 3000-year-old city has so much to tell its visitors. The architecture alone shows you the history of who has lived here and their influences; from the Romans, Muslims and finally as a Christian kingdom in the 13^th century.

The Cathedral of Saint Mary of the See, or better known as Sevilla Cathedral.

We not only see so many beautiful sites but also ourselves become a part of its story. Rachel acts out the part of Carmen in our guides story telling and I danced the Sevillana, a folk dance similar to the flamenco. Experiencing the culture this way only brings you closer to the people and I am so thankful that we are able to join in the celebration of this wonderful city.

Our trip continues and we have the opportunity to visit friends that will be in Europe this summer, the first one being Marina in Rota, Spain. We are treated to a wonderful weekend at her home, which for 3 girls traveling for 3-4 months it is truly a gift. We are welcomed with open arms and treated not only as friends but family. Rota is a small costal city on the southwest tip of Spain where locals are seen waving at others as they walk down the street to the market or coffee shop.

The boardwalk in Rota, Spain

Rachel and Marina

And visiting the coffee shop on a Saturday morning was an adventure. All you see are cups and saucers floating around with plates of toasted bread heading to tables. This we have leaned is the typical Spanish breakfast. Natalie has become a Spanish coffee-ordering expert and enjoys savoring the experience outside the café.

It’s scenes like this that make me love the Spanish culture. Like getting coffee here, you go to the café, order and then sit and enjoy it there. It’s not getting a ‘to-go cup’ as you’re running out the door. They take the time to enjoy not only the taste but also the people that surround them.

While attending mass on Sunday the priest’s words seemed to capture these thoughts. He spoke that the way of the Lord is the way of life and that we should never forget to look at all the joy in the world. There will always be sorrow and difficulties but not to forget the joy. He ended saying that if we go through life with faith and joy there is nothing to worry about. So that is my plan, to look for the joy in all that surrounds me, even on the tough days. I think that my life will be all the better for it and maybe I can bring joy to those around me.

After almost 4 hours on the walking tour in Sevilla

Our Bright Spot In Bangkok

June 1, 2016June 1, 2016 / Rachel Sherburne / 2 Comments

It’s sweltering. Ninety-five degrees with 80% humidity means Natalie, Katy and I are sweating just standing outside. So, when we don our 30-ish pound backpacks and start walking from the train station to our hostel, it’s less than a minute before we’re dripping.

We’ve just flown from Siem Reap, Cambodia to Bangkok, Thailand. Here we have a short 20 hour layover till we head to Madrid, Spain via Moscow in the morning. It’s going to be a long 48-hrs and we’re already tired, but luckily the hostel we booked is nearby.

“The email said it’s close, right across from the station,” Katy tells us.

I’ve learned the word “close” is a relative term when traveling. It could mean five minutes or five miles depending on who you’re talking to. But in this case, luck is on our side and close means about 50 meters.

“That’s it, right there!” I announce, spotting the hostel sign just across the street. Thank God. My back is aching from the backpack, my stomach hurts (thanks to parasite number two on this trip), and I’m starting to feel overheated and nauseous.

We make our way across the street, and before entering the hostel, we remove our shoes. After more than a month in Asia, we’re used to this standard, cultural norm.

Unfortunately, it doesn’t feel much cooler inside than out, but at least we’ve made it and we can take off our packs. After nearly 4 months of international traveling, we’re also used to this standard, travel drill. What used to seem novel and exciting is now easily described in a 13-step process we must complete anytime we change our location from one country to another.

Packing our stuff – this is getting more and more difficult as we buy new clothes, are given gifts and accumulate souvenirs along the way
Checking out of our hostel
Getting to the airport – this could be via taxi, train, walking or (in the case of Cambodia) a motorized buggy also known as a Tuk-Tuk
Checking into our flight – these days we’re so causal about international traveling that we often don’t remember what airline we’re flying on until we arrive at the airport
Going through security – this process varies from country to country but inevitably involves a metal detector, pulling out my laptop from my overly-stuffed daypack, ditching or downing my water and removing my jewelry
Boarding our flight
Flying from Country A to Country B – this could range from a non-stop flight to one with 2 or more stops and can take anywhere from 1 to 20 hours
Going through customs – sometimes this takes 10 minutes, other times an hour. Sometimes the agent is friendly and welcomes you. Sometimes you get grilled about your travel plans or you simply get no eye contact and no response when you “hello,” or “thank you”
Picking up our bags – amazingly not one has been lost or stolen this entire time (knock on wood)
Withdrawing money and converting any foreign currency we no longer need – turns out money exchanges don’t take coins so we all have a wide variety of change from around the globe
Getting to our next hostel (see #3)
Checking into our new hostel – this always includes filling out forms, showing our passports and paying in advance
Unpacking our stuff – much less time consuming than packing but still a mental puzzle as to where to put things since most hostel rooms are small, have multiple bunkbeds and there aren’t any closets or drawers

The routine is far from glamorous and always takes more time and energy to complete than we think it will or want it to. And on this particular day, with the heat and feeling pretty lousy, I’m over it.

I’m wondering if maybe my emotions are indicating that it’s time to wrap up this Great Enlivening. But just as I start daydreaming about a less transient life, one without backpacks, shower shoes and checking for bedbugs, I’m interrupted by a chipper voice behind me.

“Hello and welcome!” says a bright-eyed woman with a broad smile “Please, please, sit down,” she says ushering us over to the table and chairs before rushing to a fridge to get us each a cool bottle of water.

She appears to be a few years older than us, but she’s moving at light speed with lots of energy and even more enthusiasm. In less than five minutes she’s checked us in, settled our individual payments, prepared a special herbal tea for each of us, offered us Thai cookies and shown us a laminated sheet with all the key words and phrases we need to know to navigate this new country.

With keys and the wifi password, we are just about to hoist our bags and climb up the stairs to our room, when she makes one final comment.

“Tonight there is a special Thai market, it’s for locals but very good for you to see….will help you understand more this country. If you want, I go with you.”

She has all the eagerness of a kid on Christmas and there’s no way we can say no. We agree to meet her at 6 p.m. and she’s thrilled.

Once in our room, we can’t stop gushing about how incredibly nice and hospitable this woman is. Fastest check in ever! Free food and drink!? An offer to be our personal tour guide?!? For the record, this is NOT the typical response when checking into a hostel and we’re not entirely sure this woman isn’t some sort of mythical unicorn of sorts.

But her energy was so infectious, her desire to serve so selfless and genuine that it’s a unanimous consensus. Unicorn or not, we love her.

After a brief rest, we venture into the city for a few hours to get lunch and explore a bit. Of course I had to get Pad Thai in Thailand!

We return back to the hostel and at 6 p.m. we head downstairs to meet our escort for the evening. “How long does it take by train to get there?” I ask.

“Oh, you can’t take a train,” she explains, “But I will drive us in my car.”

This woman continues to amaze me. And then I realize that I don’t even know her name.

Over the course of the 20 minute drive, we learn that Ja bought and opened this hostel a year ago because she loves traveling and wants to help those who come to her country. But this isn’t her full-time job, she also works 6 days a week as a pharmacist.

After refusing to let us pay for parking, Ja leads us to the market and through a cacophony of sights, smells, shops and seemingly thousands of people.

Turns out that true Thai markets are pretty cool.

On the outskirts is the only place not packed with people. And apparently you can buy all sorts of stuff…

Like sunglasses available for purchase out of the side of a truck…

Life-size statues of Elvis. Doesn’t Katy look good with the King?

And you can even buy a huge shrimp pillow. Because everyone needs one of those.

The street art was amazing…

And they had some cool old cars too!

After two hours we had fully experienced an authentic Thai market.

“Thank you so much!” I gush as we get out of Ja’s car back at the hostel. “You’re such a lovely host and this has been such a special evening!”

Ja smiles and explains that making her guests feel welcome and giving them a taste of Thailand is her pleasure. And I know it is.

Unfortunately, Natalie missed the market because she wasn’t feeling well, but we all sat down and enjoyed a nice meal in the hostel kitchen. Ja made sure we had everything we needed and wished us well on our travels as we would be leaving early the next morning.

As I laid in bed and reflected on our day, I thought of Ja. How her kindness and generosity had blessed each of us. How meeting and spending time with her had made our day so much brighter and richer.

The truth is, what Ja gave us was much more than tea, cookies, and a tour of a Thai market. What she shared with us was herself and the very best part of it. She shared her joy, her passions, her time, her knowledge, her love, without counting the cost or asking for anything in return.

I know this is what God asks each of us to do. To give the gift of ourselves to others. And I also know that I don’t always do this. Sometimes I’m just selfish or I think I don’t have anything of value to offer anyone else. Sometimes I’m just so consumed with my own agenda and 13-step routine that I fail to notice who’s around me and how I can bless them.

But every now and then I live wholeheartedly. I focus on others. I do what I can to meet their needs. I use my God-given gifts to make their lives better – even if it’s just to make someone laugh or speak an encouraging word. I think of my time with the Cambodian Children’s House of Peace and how pouring into their staff and kids enriched my life in the most beautiful way.

While I hope I had the same effect on them as Ja had on us, I know that when I’m being the best version of myself, I feel really good. I feel fully alive and that my life has deep meaning and purpose.

Nearly four months into this trip, I’ve learned that sometimes what I think will enliven me, does the opposite. And that sometimes what I think will drain me or cost too much is the very thing that enlivens me the most.

I’m not sure I’ll ever see Ja again, but meeting her inspired me. My prayer is that I allow God to use me in the same way as I travel and continue this Great Enlivening.

Keep Calm and Carry On

May 17, 2016 / Katy Ryan / 2 Comments

We sit at the table in our villa outside Seminyak Village and try to make plans for the next day. Are we going to the monkey forest or maybe just to a sea temple? We are also trying to decide if we should leave Bali for Singapore in 2 days or in 6 days.

I am ready to move on, so I vote for 2 days, and all three of us start researching that timeline. So we sit at the table and search for flights. Rachel is trying to figure out if we can just change the date on our existing flight, a large task itself trying to create an account online and then wait in line to chat with someone. After a series of dropped calls and websites timing out we decide to call it a night. We will attack this situation in the morning either before or after our sight seeing.

I wake up the next day and have a feeling in my stomach, I think it is just hunger pains because all I had for dinner last night was a PB&J…yes I made one in Bali. Sometimes you just want something simple. I shower, get dressed and even put on a little powder on my face. I walk out to the kitchen and make breakfast. Some hot tea, one piece of toast and scramble some eggs. We have a little deli, Bali Deli, just a short walk away that has allowed us to buy some comforts. But we do have to cross one of the busiest streets in the area while dodging cars and even worse, scooters.

Scooters are the main transportation on the island and it seems like there are no rules. They drive wherever the want, in between cars and even on the sidewalk. If they can squeeze through it they will drive there.

As I finish making my eggs I begin to realize that these are not hunger pains and I get that all too familiar feeling that I am not well, I think I am going to pass out. I leave my food right where it is and go to my bathroom. Luckily the villa we are staying at has three bedrooms each with their own bathroom attached.

I will not go into details but I quickly realize that I am down for the count. I see my reflection in the mirror and I am pale, worse than normal given that I have gotten a little tan if I do say so myself. My lips have no color and all I can do is make it to the bed still wearing my dress I had picked out for the day. I send a text to Natalie and Rachel letting them know that I am out for the day. Rachel comes in to check on me and says she is not feeling awesome either.

Well there go all my plans, and if you ask my family I am a planner when it comes to trips. I usually am the navigator sitting shotgun with my dad on road trips. Before GPS I had the big atlas ready and would help him pick the best route and look out for the next interstate to take.

As I have gotten older and technology has advanced I have become the family travel agent. I enjoy looking up fun things to do in cities we are visiting, picking the hotels and even restaurants with local flare to eat at. My siblings and I have made at least one trip together a year for the last several ranging from Charlotte, NC for a soccer game, Orlando, FL to run marathons at Disney World and to our biggest adventure, a trip to London and Ireland. Through all these adventures I have been the planner and things generally go well.

But today things are not going my way. I am in bed all day not getting much into my system accept some water and a little bread. The others decide everything was not working last night and the fact that I am in bed, maybe tomorrow is not the best day to leave. They book a villa in Ubud until our previously scheduled departure date. I have enjoyed Bali but I will be honest, I could take it or leave it. Bali is known for its abundance of surfing and yoga, and I do neither. And as I have mentioned before I have fair skin so l have a limited amount of time where I can layout by the pool or beach. But I want to enjoy this time I have here, who knows if I will ever have another chance to come back.

So as we are riding in the van on our 2-hour journey to Ubud I think about planning. I wonder if this part of the trip is to help me realize that sometimes things do not go as we plan. This could be said for so many different aspects of life. An event gets rained out; you don’t get a job you wanted or so many other examples. I myself had planned to be married with a couple of kids by my early thirties, but that hasn’t happened. I just have to remind myself that all things happen for a reason and we usually don’t get an outlined itinerary of what our life will be like. But I do know that I am able to be on this trip because of the life that I do have and because I don’t have certain obligations keeping me to one place. I know I am truly lucky. So, since I am in the land of yoga, I might as well take some classes.

I go to a beginner’s class and even to a salsa class. I love to dance and I felt like I was in a rehearsal studio on Dancing with the Stars. But minus me being a star and also a lack of male partners. But I am having fun and trying to let go. I have even had a ride on a scooter into town. It was scary at first but once I relaxed it was actually really enjoyable. But I don’t think that will be my main mode of transportation for the remainder of the trip.

At the pool today I was sitting with Natalie and I had a visitor, a dragonfly landed on my shoulder and stayed with me for a couple of minutes. I researched dragonflies and founds that they have a very short life span, so they don’t have a lot of time to waste. So a visit from one means that they have something very important to tell you. They represent the reminder to stay present in the moment and not to stress out. Also they could be a representation of the need for change in one’s life.

Well if that is not a summery of the last 2 months of my life I don’t know what is. Traveling has a way of making you focus on being present and enjoying all that surrounds you. I have an amazing opportunity to see and experience so many things. I just need to remind myself to not take things for granted and if my plan does not go exactly the way I thought, that is fine. There must be something else that I was meant to see or somewhere else I was meant to be. And I am okay with that. Besides staying a week longer in Bali allowed me to make a new friend, Sam.

Our cuddle buddy for the week Samuel L Catson, so named by Natalie. He is pretty cute… when he is not trying to steal your food.

Lightening Up

May 10, 2016 / Rachel Sherburne / 4 Comments

I know a total of five words in Japanese: Good morning, hello, thank you, yes and no. And yet, I decide that getting my hair cut and colored in a country where I cannot communicate is a good idea.

It all started when Natalie and I went for a much, let me repeat, MUCH needed pedicure. After three months on the road, let’s just say our feet were “rough.” When we could no longer stand their dilapidated condition, we ventured out in search of a nail place.

We walked down the street perpendicular to our hostel in Tokyo, careful to cross at the crosswalk only when the indicator turned green. We’ve learned that abiding by rules and conformity is highly valued in this culture.

Besides not seeing a single person jaywalk in the week I’ve been here, I’ve discovered that the Japanese people don’t show their toes, wear shoes inside or use sunglasses. And they don’t talk loudly, demonstrate any type of aggression or eat and drink in public.

But they do like super advanced toilets that are smarter than some computers…

and they love their bakeries and sweets!

I can’t say I’ve abided by all of these societal norms, especially wearing sunglasses…

…But I’ve tried really hard…especially eating the donuts!

And I’ve really enjoyed learning more about this unique culture, like at the Sumo Food Festival we attended.

Yes, these are whole, fried fish. And no, I did NOT eat them.

Whether it’s little ladies singing and dancing at the festival (check out the video below)…

Experimenting with new foods…

Visiting incredible palaces, temples and shrines…

Or simply experiencing the packed trains and streets…

I can honestly say I’ve never been to any place like this before!

And as luck would have it, in our search for a pedicure, Natalie and I stumbled upon an upscale hair and nail salon a few blocks from our hostel.

There we met, Uto and Kana, a lovely Japanese couple who own and manage the place.

They wowed us with their hospitality and impeccable service despite the difficult language barrier. And can I just say that my feet haven’t looked this good in a LONG time!

Feeling much more feminine with our freshly polished toes, Natalie made a bold leap of faith and decided to schedule a haircut for the next day. After three months without a trim, we both needed a cut, but truth be told, I was waiting to see how her hair turned out before I booked an appointment.

Some 24 hours later, Natalie returned to our hostel with a fabulous new do and it was settled, I was going to do the same.

The next night I went in and after Uto shaped up and finished straightening my hair, in broken English he looked at the top of my head and commented, “High here,” he said, pointing to the 2 inch section of slightly lighter hair growing from my roots. “Dark here,” he said, pointing to the hair a few inches below. “And high here again,” he said, pointing to the remainder of my hair.

I nodded my head and then he looked at me puzzled before asking, “Why?”

The long, back story is that I’ve been going to the same hair stylist, Diana, for the last 11 years. And as I’ve gotten older, this unwanted phenomenon called grey hair has happened upon me. It’s not too bad, mostly in a small patch around the crown of my head and a few stragglers here and there, but enough to be noticeable without treatment. So, for the last few years, I’ve had Diana simply “spot treat” these greys with a little bit of color.

When I left Virginia she sent me off with a small amount of professional hair color – enough for two applications that lasted me right up until January. But by the time I reached Columbia in March, I needed a major touch up. Afraid to try a random boxed color, I went to a salon and had some stylists apply color only on my roots to hide the grey.

Me and my Columbian “dream team” of stylists back in March!

The problem is that when they selected the color, they chose one that matched the end of my hair, not my roots, hence the lighter “ring” around the top of my head.

Uto pulls out a book with swatches of hair colors. “Here is 5,” he says, pointing to the color that matches my roots.

“Here is….uh….9,” he explains, holding the lighter swatch next to the ends of my hair.

With slow English and lots of hand signals, I try to explain about my last dye experience and I think he gets it.

“My hair is just a lot lighter at the ends because of the sun,” I say.

Uto looks at me blankly.

I point up the sky and make motions that are supposed to mimic sun rays coming down from heaven.

“The sun??” he asks incredulously. “No color?”

“Nope, just the sun.”

His mouth drops open. Apparently Japanese hair doesn’t react to sunlight in the same way, and the fact that mine has lightened four shades naturally because of it amazes him.

“Wow!” he exclaims, marveling closely at the strands.

I smile at his enthusiasm and imagine how he’d react if he saw my tan lines. While there are parts of me that are quite fair, thanks to olive skin, I can pick up color easily and the end of each summer the stark contrast makes it look like I’m wearing a white bikini.

“Can you fix it?” I ask tentatively, pointing to the lighter section around my roots.

He nods and we schedule another appointment the following day.

We decide to go with the level 5, darker color as this is what my stylist in Virginia always used. What I failed to remember is that she only applied it to a few strands here and there, not all of my roots, like Uto does.

After a shampoo, he and Kana tag team my hair with two blowdryers while I finish making a list of the top 10 things they need to do and see on their trip to New York City in December.

Once dry, I discover that the usually lightest hair around my face has really soaked up the color.

“You like?” he asks.

“Yes…” I lie before I add, “it’s…so much darker.”

Japanese people are incredibly polite and I don’t want to hurt his feelings. He smiles broadly, beaming with pride.

They polish my hair with the flat iron and by the time we leave, we’re snapping photos and exchanging hugs.

I love the cut and style, but it’s not till the next morning that I really start to have some regret over the color. I’m not used to seeing such dark hair framing my face and after going back and forth for an hour, I decide to return to see if they can add a few highlights in the front.

Uto and Kana are completely understanding and agree to squeeze me in. “I do very fast!” he assures me.

A short while later I’ve got some strategically placed foil and the guarantee that it’ll just be 10 minutes.

But Uto is busy and it’s not till 25 minutes later that he returns to check my hair.

I hear him gasp softly, refold the foil quickly so I can’t see and and immediately go over to mix something together.

This can’t be good, I think to myself.

He has me sit in the shampooing chair and after a wash I can feel and smell him putting something on the front of my hair…no doubt something to darken whatever color my highlights have turned.

Dear God, please don’t let me come out with streaked hair, I pray silently.

As I sit there waiting for the color to take I remember how in my 20’s I used to get highlights regularly and apply self-tanner to mimic what the sun was supposed to do to my body. But it was never quite right. It either didn’t look natural, left me orange or simply smelling funny.

Now in my 30’s I’ve decided to go “natural” (with the exception of hiding some grey hair). I allow the sun to do what only the sun can do – lighten the dark areas and darken the light ones. I like to think it makes me more beautiful, more balanced and healthier.

And then it dawns on me that the same could be said about the “Son.”

When I spend time with Jesus, I am changed for the better. The darkness in my heart is lightened. I become a more beautiful person on the inside and much more balanced and healthy in every sense.

That doesn’t mean that I’m always aware of what needs the light. Kinda like how my darkest hairs are the ones in the back of my head, underneath the surface, sometimes the darkest places in my heart are the ones that aren’t visible to me or others. But God knows they are there and if I give Him permission, he wants to lighten those too.

As it turns out, Uto is able to tone down the highlights to an acceptable level, but I’ve learned my lesson: quick fixes don’t work and nothing can substitute for natural sunlight.

The same can be said about my soul. There’s no special prayer or overnight solution to spiritual health and nothing has the same affect as “Son-light.” It’s only through consistent, intentional time with Jesus that I’ll become the person He created me to be – one who radiates the light of Christ in every single area of her life.

And that’s what I’m committed to and desire the most. After all, in the end, it doesn’t matter one bit what my hair looks like. It matters what my heart looks like.

Head Over Heels

April 17, 2016 / Rachel Sherburne / 8 Comments

How did this happen? It’s only been three days. I’m leaning against the lamppost and listening to a random street performer strum his guitar and sing lyrics that I swear are written for me.

“When the truth keeps searching for your heart…words that will never leave. Don’t say it unless you mean it…”

I close my eyes and though I’m in the middle of a crowded market, I feel as though I’m somehow floating ten feet in the air. There’s an unprecedented fullness in my heart that I didn’t know was possible. I breathe deeply as a contented smile pulls at the corners of my mouth. Goosebumps wash over my body in the most delightful way.

I know the three words this guy is singing about, and as crazy as it seems, I’m ready to say them. All the telltale signs are there. Rationality is out of the window. Nothing bothers me. I find myself laughing at things that usually annoy me and the mundane seems magical. I’m not really interested in food or sleep yet somehow I wake up each morning with supernatural energy and stamina for the day. It’s like being on a drug.

Yep. I’m in love….

With Sydney, Australia.

If someone asked me “why?” I would probably feel compelled to give a list of reasons:

1. It’s a runner’s dream with long jogs available through parks, botanical gardens and along the beautiful harbor

2. There are incredible beaches, like the one we visited in Bondi

3. Art museums here are free and feature stunning pieces

4. The Sydney Opera House and performances (we went to the symphony there) are exquisite

5. The food is delectable and you can pretty much have any ethnicity/type you want…including Irish tea and scones …YUM!

6. Every person I’ve encountered so far has been absolutely lovely, especially the cajun couple I met because he was wearing an LSU hat…GEAUX TIGERS! 🙂

7. Aussie men are hot. I mean, flat out HOT. (Remember Aussies Hugh Jackman and Liam Hemsworth?)

8. There are street markets, artists performing and always something to do or buy around the city…like my new lemon quartz ring!

9. You can pet and hold adorable Australian animals at zoos around the city

10. There is an energy pulsing in this place that is absolutely invigorating

But the truth is that beyond all the tangible and logical reasons why I adore Sydney, there is just something “special” about this place that I can’t quite define but has completely intoxicated me. It’s something I’ve never felt before and certainly wasn’t expecting.

In fact, when we first arrived in Australia, I wasn’t interested in staying more than a week. Just enough time to see some highlights and move on. But 72 hours later, I don’t want to leave Sydney…at least anytime soon.

I open my eyes to make sure I can still see Natalie and Katy. They’re busy shopping for handmade cards at a booth nearby, so I allow myself to slip back in the moment.

“I’ve been guarded underneath this heavy load. And a doubter, a cynic and I’ve been cold. But now you’ve warmed me like a gentle rising sun…”

The truth of these lyrics bring unexpected tears to my eyes. I’ve been so afraid to open my heart. So scared of getting hurt again.

I’ve been jaded and questioned if being in love is even real…or possible for me. But here I am in love. And while I can’t marry a city, the way I feel about it gives me hope for the way I might one day feel about a man.

I close my eyes and imagine meeting that special someone. The unexpected attraction, the first time our eyes meet. How we’ll smile at each other. How being around him will make me a little nervous. How eager we’ll be to get to know each other. How it will feel when he holds my hand. Hugs me. Kisses me…

It all seems so effortless. So carefree. So exciting. Yes, I’m ready for this, I think.

It’s a week later and I’m enjoying my last full day in Sydney. It’s not the big clear blue sky I love, but despite the clouds I venture to the beach. The tide is fierce and though I am brave enough to get in the chilly water, I’m too nervous to go out too far. The waves are crashing with such force that they hurt and I have to work to keep myself standing. They’ve knocked me over a few times, nearly stolen my bikini bottoms and flooded my nose and mouth with salty water that burns in the back of my throat.

After returning to my room I decide to go for one last long run in Sydney. The usual path I take each morning is different at dusk. I can’t see the vivid flowers anymore, just dark outlines and a lot of shadows as I jog to the Opera House. I have to be careful not to trip and the extra vigilance makes the experience much more challenging.

When I arrive at the harbor I pause to admire the view at night and reflect on my love affair with Sydney.

I still think this is the most incredible place I’ve ever been, but I don’t feel giddy and intoxicated anymore. I’ve grown to appreciate this city not just for all the things I like and they way it makes me happy, but also for it’s not so stellar conditions, like packed trains on Sundays, the stormy weather, sometimes violent waves and dark nights that chill me to the bone. This too is Sydney. And this too is love.

When I think about my Mr. Wonderful (wherever and whoever he is), I imagine falling in love will be the same. At first I’ll be head over heels and captivated by everything amazing he has going for him. But eventually over time, I’ll come to know his flaws and shortcomings and he mine. The novelty of our relationship will wear off and that’s when I have to decide whether or not to transition from “being in love” to “loving.” The former is an emotion, a feeling. The later is a choice.

I’ve learned firsthand that the words “I love you” are easy to say, but they don’t mean much if they aren’t based on action. On sacrifice.

I know that this kind of real love will challenge me, require hard work, sometimes cost me more than I think I can give, but also give me more than I ever imagined.

As I write this, I’m looking out at the Sydney skyline and listening to the song that evoked such emotion in my heart at the market a week ago. “Don’t say it unless you mean it,” Mark Wilinson sings. He’s right. These words mean too much to be thrown out carelessly. To be written in a card or typed in a text message but never lived out.

I’ve heard “I love you” from a few men in my life but looking back I think maybe it was just “I’m in love with you.” That’s not a bad start, but in the end I want more. So, I’m going to make sure that I differentiate between the two. That the next time I think about saying those three words I really mean it. Because when I one day hear “I love you” from that special man, I want him to mean it too.

This is the Story of a Car Named Frida

April 10, 2016April 10, 2016 / Natalie Hunter / 2 Comments

Once upon a time in 2013, Frida was born in a Nissan Factory in Japan. When she was only a young carling, she boarded a boat and went to a far away land called New Zealand.

When she arrived, she was adopted by a rental car company in Auckland. Frida was happy with her life, she liked meeting the tourists and business travelers and taking them to different places around the city.

But as the years went on, Frida started to feel a bit bored. She was tired of driving the same old roads to the same old places. She yearned for something new… something exciting.

Then one sunny day in 2016, three girls from the United States, Natalie, Katy and Rachel, arrived in Auckland. It was early in the morning, but the girls were laughing and dancing and seemed so excited to be in New Zealand!

But Frida was a little worried… because Americans have a hard time driving on the left side of the road, while sitting on the right side of the car. But after a few minor mistakes – turning on the windshield wipers instead of the blinker, and constantly going to the wrong “driver’s” side of the car – the girls got the hang of driving Frida. And Frida was hopeful that the adventure she longed for had finally arrived.

When they left Auckland, their first stop was a town called Rotorua. Here, they visited a beautiful lake with black swans and walked through a park with natural hot springs and geysers. In the park, they found out why the town is called ROTorua – because everything smells like rotting eggs. Ick.

From here, they journeyed to the city of Napier. Napier is an art-deco style town that sits on the East Coast of the North Island. The girls decided to go for a run along the beach with their new friends, Clem and Franck, before leaving for Wellington.

Of course, they did make a few pit stops along the way…

Then they arrived in Wellington, New Zealand’s capital city. Here they enjoyed beautiful views, museums, yoga on the beach and even a little karaoke!

When the time came to leave Wellington, the girls told Frida that they were all going to the South Island on a Ferry. Frida couldn’t believe it! She hadn’t been on a boat since she was a little carling coming to New Zealand for the first time.

Frida loved being on the boat, but was even more excited to see the South Island. She heard that it was the most beautiful place in all of New Zealand. So they drove from Picton to Nelson and started to see the amazing scenery.

After Nelson, they cut through a mountain pass and headed to Christchurch. Navigating the mountain pass was a little tricky, because Frida’s engine only has four cylinders! But what she lacks in power, she makes up for in style. And after struggling up a few hills, they made it to Christchurch. Here the girls ran into a friend named Rose, who they met in Wellington. What a small world!

The girls spent Easter in Christchurch, before heading to the West Coast.

Once they reached the West Coast, they all stayed in a little town called Greymouth for a few days. In Greymouth, they hiked the pancake rocks, zip-lined off a cliff, tubed down a river, and even spelunked a few caves!

After this, the girls were pretty tired and needed a little R&R. So they drove back across the island to go to the home of Natalie’s favorite wine – Marlborough Sauvignon Blanc.

But sadly, after this, it was time to return to the North Island. When they arrived, the girls were feeling outdoorsy, so they decided to stop in Tongariro to hike “The Crossing.” At least, that was the plan… but the sky decided to pour and pour and forced the girls to head to Taupo early.

In Taupo, the girls hiked to the bluest water they’ve ever seen at a place called Huka Falls!

After Taupo, the girls set the GPS for Auckland, and that’s when Frida started to get sad. She knew that this trip was almost over, and that she would be back to her regular life soon. But on the way back, the girls started blasting Justin Beiber’s “Sorry” and car dancing like fools. They even started a “car dancing battle” with the car next door… that they won, of course.

So when she dropped the girls off at the airport, Frida expected feel really blue. But instead, she just smiled and honked when she drove away, thankful for the fun times they had together. Because in the end, Frida realized that it’s better to feel a little sad when the adventure is over, than to never embark on it in the first place.

Lost in Translation and Losing It

February 23, 2016 / Rachel Sherburne / 3 Comments

Fierce. Blinding. Invigorating. The water rushes over me. I’m under a God-sized shower that has saturated every inch of my body. It’s coming so fast and powerful that I can’t keep my eyes open. But I feel the drops pelting my skin, and I’m smiling from ear to ear. A torrent of water pounds over me unexpectedly and I squeal with delight, laughing, as water fills my mouth. I don’t know if it’s safe to swallow, but it feels clean. I feel clean. Refreshed. And in awe.

There is no way this would happen in America. Taking a boat within feet of a waterfall bigger than Niagra Falls would be out of the question. Or if not, I would have had to sign my life away in order to do so. And probably pay a small fortune. But here I am in Iguazu Falls, Argentina, less than 4 feet from a gigantic stream of water that if I were directly under would likely drown me in a matter of minutes.

There was no liability waiver. I just paid $650 Argentinian pesos (roughly $45 USD) for “La Gran Adventura.” And was it ever!

“That was so cool!” I gush to Natalie after we are back on dry land. As soon as I say it, I realize how completely inadequate that word is to describe what we just experienced. “I mean, I’ve been skydiving, ridden in the back of an F-15 fighter jet pulling 8 Gs, but I think this might take the cake for most incredible thing I’ve ever done.”

I think about the rainbow we saw, the sheer power and intensity of the waterfalls, and the thrill of looking up to the top of the falls at the exact moment a majestic eagle soared directly overhead.

Check out this video!

Before we were soaked under the falls…

It was beyond magnificent.

And dozens of photos and hours later we were still raving about our unbelievable boating adventure, not to mention the plethora of butterflies we encountered throughout the day.

Who knew butterflies were so friendly!?

It was a once in a lifetime experience that I’ll never forget.

And thankfully one that made up for the less-than-awesome hotel we ended up staying in.

There’s a lot I could say – like how every time I tried to use my blow dryer I blew a fuse in our room. How my towel on the first day had huge makeup stains on it, the shower leaked, the vinegar bottle at the hotel restaurant had ants crawling on it and the power shut off completely during dinner. (The staff immediately set up two battery-powered lights on the buffet which leads me to believe this happens on a regular basis).

There was no comforter on our bed and the pool wasn’t very clean, but considering it was 95 degrees with 98% humidity, we were thankful for and took full advantage of it.

We decided to chuckle instead of grumble about these all things. After all, when you’re only paying $35 a night, you can’t really complain. But the best was the second and last night after a soak in the pool.

“You can shower first,” Natalie offers. “I’ll just take off my suit and wrap a towel around me while I wait.”

She does this and just as I’m about to step in the tub, I hear laughing. “Uh, Rachel, you need to see this.”

I wrap a towel around me and open the bathroom door. Natalie is just standing there with a silly grin on her face.

“What’s up?” I ask.

She turns around. It takes a moment to process what I’m looking at. And then I bust out laughing. There is a hole that is at least 5 inches in diameter in her towel.

I’m going to need to take a picture of that,” I announce, running to get my phone.

I snap this photo and we both can’t stop laughing.

“I mean, how is that even possible?” I say incredulously. “Someone had to wash and fold that thing. And at what point did they think, ‘You know, that towel still has a good 8-10 washes left before it falls apart’?”

After regaining our composure we decide that this hotel is by far the dumpiest place we’ve ever stayed in. But it did give us a good opportunity to laugh – something we’ve been doing a lot of lately.

I’d like to think it’s because we’re settling into this whole international travel thing. We’re more relaxed, free spirited and able to just breathe and enjoy the world around us. And while that is part of it, there’s this other factor at play. Despite three months of Spanish lessons in Mexico and the fact that several native speakers have commented on how well I speak and understand the language, over the last week there have been a few epic blunders. Here, for your amusement, are my top five:

I ordered an “espresso doble” at the airport café and instead of two shots of espresso, I got two cups. Unfortunately I didn’t realize the miscommunication until after Natalie ordered “lo mismo” (the same), and we ended up with four cups of espresso.

Hoping to refill my water bottle before our flight I asked an airport employee, “Hay una fountain de agua circa de aqui?” (Is there a water fountain near here?) He looked at me blankly and when it was clear that he didn’t understand what I was asking, I made repeated motions, bobbing my head up and down and demonstrating how to bend down and drink from a water fountain – which in hindsight probably communicated something else entirely. [For the record, there aren’t any water fountains at the Buenos Aires airport, but my impersonation of drinking out of one definitely made this guy smirk].

I asked the receptionist at our hotel in Iguazu if they had a fitness center. “Si, claro, esta aqui,” (Of course, it’s here) she says pointing down the hall. After many minutes of searching and only finding the dinning room/game room, I can only assume she misunderstood me. Or that eating and playing pool are the only kind of exercise offered at this sketchy hotel.

When we boarded our flight to Iguazu, Natalie’s seat was taken by someone else. So, the flight attendant began looking for places to seat us together. After a few moments she turns to us, pointing behind her and says, “There is room for you two in the overhead compartment.” Uh. Ok. I stifle a snicker and look where she is pointing. Turns out there are a few seats vacant in the exit row, so I figured she just mixed up her words and wasn’t actually suggesting that we would fit (at least not comfortably) in the overhead compartment. But considering the flight was oversold, it did make us a little concerned.

While at breakfast our last morning in Iguazu, I discovered that like everything else we ate at this hotel, the scrambled eggs were pretty terrible, so salty I couldn’t even eat them. So, I asked the waitress if she had any “huevos naturales” (natural eggs)…” cocinado fuerte” (cooked strong). It wasn’t great, but the best I could do. She repeated something back to me that included “cocinado” and I nodded my head assuming she understood that I wanted hard-boiled eggs. “Cuantos?” (how many). “Dos, no, cuatro por favor.” (Two, no four please), I answered, knowing Natalie would like some also. A few minutes later she returned with our eggs and I was thrilled. I LOVE eggs. With great excitement I tapped one with my spoon to peel it…and that’s when I realized it was completely raw. At that point, I was more baffled than disappointed. “What the heck am I going to do with raw eggs?” I ask Natalie. Thankfully when the waitress returned I was somehow able to communicate what I actually wanted and 20 minutes later she came back with four hard-boiled eggs.

Needless to say, we’ve had a lot of grins and giggles so far. We’re clearly not fluent in Spanish and I’m sure there will be many more miscommunications on this trip. But what God is communicating quite clearly to Natalie and me is that we are exactly where we are supposed to be. That this Great Enlivening is more than just novelty and adventure. It’s about finding levity in the world around us. It’s about taking time to laugh…regardless of whether it’s a result of a being right below an incredible waterfall, or seeing the most pathetic hotel towel in existence.

And not surprisingly, the more I laugh, the richer this experience becomes.

Little Love Stories

February 19, 2016February 19, 2016 / Natalie Hunter / 12 Comments

Ever since we arrived in Buenos Aires, my mind has been churning, turning and burning with thoughts on one topic – love.

Maybe this has something to do with being single on Valentine’s Day. Or perhaps it’s because I’m still finding my way through recent heartache. Or maybe it’s because couples in Buenos Aires spontaneously burst into make-out sessions ALL the time, all over the city. Seriously.

Whatever the reason, the topic of love is at the forefront of my mind. Yet, when I think about “love” I tend to think of romance. And while romance is a beautiful facet of love, it’s not the whole picture. So in an effort to change my perspective, I decided to glance back at my Valentines week through a new lens. And I found some unexpected little love stories:

1) Elly’s Emergency

When we first arrived in Buenos Aires, we stayed at a hostel in the Palermo neighborhood. The location was great – close to restaurants, museums, nightlife, etc. But let’s just say that staying in a hostel in your thirties leaves something to be desired. Our room was approximately 45 square feet, sans air-conditioning (in 90 degree heat) and our continental breakfast included Cocoa Puffs.

Most of the other guests were in their early twenties and traveling on a shoestring budget. So after the first day, Rachel and I assumed we weren’t going to meet anyone who we felt a connection with. But that’s when we met Elly.

Elly is a fellow 30-something from Iran who’s taking a travel break before returning to Spain to finish her doctorate. Within minutes, we were all talking like old friends. But soon after we met, it was time to go our separate ways. Elly was heading to the Argentinian countryside for a few days, and Rachel and I were off to explore the city.

As Elly walked out the door I said “Hey, we’re getting an apartment, so when you get back on Friday, just let us know if you need a place to stay!”

“Ok, thanks!” She said.

And quickly I wondered if that was a really odd thing to offer to someone who I just met thirty minutes ago… “Oh well,” I thought to myself, “it’s nice to be nice!”

Rachel and I spent the next few days taking in the urban skyline, the expansive green spaces and the tree-lined streets that make up Buenos Aires.

There’s something about this city is completely energizing. We spent every night staying up later than we have in years. But after a few nights of that, it was time to catch up on our sleep.

So Friday night around 1AM, Rachel woke me up with a panicked voice. “Elly just messaged me. The hostel lost her reservation. She’s called a bunch of others but nobody has any availability!”

Yikes. The thought of being alone in a foreign country, in the middle of the night, with nowhere to stay is seriously scary, especially when you’re a young woman traveling by yourself. Oh yeah, and it was pouring down rain.

“Oh no… Tell her to come here!” I said groggily. Rachel agreed and sent her a message with our address inviting her over.

I started looking through closets to procure extra blankets and pillows. I found some and brought them into the living room. Rachel was standing by the couch, where she turned to me and said, “this couch is tiny! There’s no way she can sleep on this.”

I tried to lie down on the couch and had to prop my feet up on the armrest in order to fit. “Yep,” I said “way too small.”

So after a quick brainstorm we decide to create a makeshift bed on our living room floor out of yoga mats, blankets and throw pillows. We did this while we’re waiting for Elly to arrive. But after thirty minutes, she still wasn’t there, and we hadn’t heard from her

That’s one of the problems with international travel; you’re completely dependent on Wi-Fi to communicate. So there are periods of time when you’re completely out of touch.

But at this point, it’s about 2:30AM and we’re really worried. It’s late and she’s alone. So we did the only thing we could do at that point – we prayed. We prayed for her safety, and that God would quickly deliver her to her destination.

Just as we finish the prayer, my phone dinged with a text message, “Hey! I found a hostel with availability on my way over. Thanks for the offer, so sorry to keep you guys up!”

2) Ross da Boss

Ten days ago, we knew exactly one person in Buenos Aires – Ross. And we hadn’t even met him yet.

Ross is a friend of my good friends Megan and Jonathan. He’s an American who lives and works in Buenos Aires. And before we arrived, I linked up with him on Whatsapp. Which is apparently the only way that hip, young people connect these days.

He sent us tons of recommendations and information about how to spend our time in Buenos Aires. And he even offered to meet us and show us around the Recoleta neighborhood.

And as it turns out – Ross is awesome!

We all hit it off and ended up hanging out a few more times. On our last free day in Buenos Aires, we planned to meet Ross at the National Cathedral, before walking through the San Telmo Market.

So when Rachel and I got a taxi that morning, we told the driver to take us to “San Telmo” and assumed that the cathedral would be nearby. How big can one market be?

Huge.

The driver dropped us off at the opposite end of the market, and since we’re Wi-Fi dependent, we had no way to let Ross know that we were going to be late! So Rachel and I booked it to the other end of the market; which was at least two miles away.

We showed up at the Cathedral 45 minutes late, and luckily, there was Ross! He looked relieved and said, “Hey! I was getting worried about you two!”

So after many apologies and jokes about our inability to navigate the city, we walked through the market together.

3 – The Albino Bat

One of the perks of visiting Buenos Aires is its location. It’s perched right along the river’s mouth and on the Atlantic Ocean; which means it’s a one-hour ferry ride from Uruguay. We heard that Colonia, Uruguay is beautiful and since we’re eager to get as many stamps in our passports as possible, we decided to go!

When we arrived in Colonia, we found that the town was cute, but boring, and incredibly hot (97 degrees). And we were stuck there for eight hours waiting on our return ferry. Ugh.

The only thing to do in Colonia is walk. So we walked… and then walked some more. And as we walked, I said a silent prayer about our next steps on this journey. I knew with all certainty that God told us to go to Buenos Aires. I could feel it when we arrived. Everything about the city felt right.

But where to next? Our apartment rental would be up in a few days, and though we had some ideas about where to go, nothing felt certain.

We were thinking about heading to Iguazu Falls since, while we were in Mexico, Rachel had a vivid vision of a waterfall during yoga. But I was feeling unsure, so as we continued walking, I asked God to give me some confirmation about our next steps.

Just then, I turned my head back to the path in front of me and I saw a huge, white, winged creature flying directly towards my forehead. It came so close to me that I had to jump out of it’s flight path. That’s when I realized that it wasn’t an albino bat (my first guess) but the largest white butterfly I’d ever seen. In fact, it’s the only white butterfly I’ve seen since we arrived in South America.

“That was weird!” I say to Rachel, as the butterfly heads off into the distance.

We walk to the church in the main square of Colonia to spend a little time in prayer and shade. But as I’m praying, my mind keeps drifting back to the butterfly. It’s all I can think about. So once we find Wi-Fi access, I Google South American butterflies and learn that Iguazu Falls is one of the largest natural butterfly preserves in the world.

I smile to myself and say “Touché Lord. I guess we’re headed to Igauzu!”

Ok, I know what you’re thinking… where is she going with this? So here’s the point –

At first glance, these stories seem little… almost insignificant. There’s nothing earth shattering about them. But that’s just it – love is quality, not quantity. Love is opening your home to someone you’ve only known for thirty minutes – no questions asked. It’s waiting for 45 minutes in 97-degree heat for a couple of girls you barely know. And it’s having the faith that God will lead you to exactly where you’re supposed to be.

Love is giving, receiving and believing. It’s actions, not words. It’s shown through grandiose gestures or seemingly insignificant acts of kindness – but it’s all love. It can be palpable, or go completely unnoticed. But the result of loving isn’t the important part – the act of loving is what matters. And sometimes, I forget that. So when I look back at my Valentines week, I can see that I was surrounded by love the whole time, it just looked a little different than I’m used to.

Drink the Wild Air

February 11, 2016 / Rachel Sherburne / 1 Comment

I’m sitting in Starbucks. Why Starbucks when there are tons of great coffee places in Buenos Aires? For one simple reason: They have air conditioning.

It’s 95 degrees, which means I have about 30 seconds from the time I step outside till I start perspiring. Which after three days, I still dislike but I’m getting used to. Air conditioning is a luxury here and neither the hostel we stayed in the first two nights nor the apartment we are now renting have it. It’s not that I’m opposed to sweating – I thoroughly enjoy an intense workout and “earning” my shower when I’m finished. It’s just that I don’t expect to continue sweating after I get out. I used to tell people that as a Southern Belle, “I don’t sweat, I glow.” But let me just be real, I’m way past glowing and glistening here.

But for now, in this Starbucks, I’m cool. I’m facing the window which means I’m completely distracted by the people walking by. Like this guy. That’s a lot of hair.

And then there’s this girl, whose shorts remind me of a pair of stonewashed jeans I wore in 2^nd grade.

The fashion here is, well, different.

Chunky sandals are all the rage for women.

This is a trend I’ll never embrace. Not just because I don’t find them particularly attractive and elevating myself an extra 4-5 inches will make me feel more like an Amazon than I already do, but also because I’m pretty confident I would bust my ass if I tried to walk in shoes like that. Just saying.

Hold on. There’s a lady trying to talk to me.

Ok, I’m back.

Apparently this woman was warning Natalie and I to be careful about having our Apple computers in a public place because just yesterday when she left Starbucks at night with hers, a motorcyclist must have seen her put them in her car, because he smashed her window and stole it.

Only she told us the entire story in rapid-fire Spanish and was so intense and passionate that I wasn’t able to interject anything until the end when she looked at me for a response. “Yo hablo un poco de espanol,” I offer apologetically.

“You speak English?!” she exclaims before she starts to laugh. Meanwhile her teenage daughter behind her is cracking up. “Did you understand any of that??”

“Well, a little,” I respond. “I knew it had something to do with two Apple computers, your wallet, the night, Starbucks and a car…but I wasn’t entirely sure how it all went together.”

We all had a good laugh, but now just to be safe, I’ve placed my computer sleeve in front of my Apple logo and I am keeping my purse securely positioned on my body.

I’m probably fine, but what’s that expression? An ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure? I’m going with that.

I came here with the intention of writing. Of crafting some sort of inspiring blog post to share, but in this moment I’m just taking it all in. I like this city. I like its’ energy, all the trees that pepper the streets, the corner cafes, and the clean, soapy smell that most people exude. I’m wondering if Buenos Aires has a standard-issue body wash. And if so, how do I get some?

I like the variety of people, a merging of all different cultures, ages and economic backgrounds. I like that wearing my casual sundress, I blend in pretty well on the street – even if I’m not rocking platform sandals. It’s my first time in South America, my first week in this city, but it feels like a place I could one day call home. I don’t know how long we’ll be here, or if I’ll ever be back, but for now, I’m not concerned with that.

I just want to grasp every moment. To embrace the novelty of it all. To find God here– in all of His creation.

Buenos Aires literally means “Good airs.” I didn’t know that until about a month before we got here. When I was praying about why God had prompted us to go to this city – of all cities. When God reminded me that this trip was about learning how to really live. And what do you absolutely need to live? What can’t you go more than minutes without? Air.

So, here I am in a city with “good air.” A place where I’m feeling God calling me to slow down. To let go. To be present in each moment. And to simply breathe.

Yesterday, Natalie and I went to the National Cathedral for Ash Wednesday Mass.

It’s a day of fasting to mark not only the 40 days of Lent leading up to Easter, but it’s also a day to remember an important truth. From dust we were created, and to dust we will return.

We were reminded of that firsthand two days ago when we went to visit the world-renowned cemetery in Recoleta.

Perhaps the first thing to understand about life in order to really live it fully, is to recognize how truly brief it is.

“You have no idea what your life will be like tomorrow. You are a puff of smoke that appears briefly and then disappears.” James 4:14.

And that is the truth. I am not guaranteed next year any more than I am guaranteed tomorrow. So, right now, I’m going to unapologetically allow myself to simply be. I’m relinquishing the pressure I feel to craft a perfectly worded post with a riveting, earth shattering message that will “wow” you. Instead I’m going to sit here and gaze out of this window, watching the passers by, the leaves dancing gracefully in the breeze and the pigeons perching peacefully in front of me.

And I’m going to breath. I’m going to draw deep, full breaths of all of this “good air” and be thankful for this gift called life that God has given me.