Wandering the World

Rick and I love, love, love, LOVE to wander through colorful alleys and back roads, finding unique door knockers and signs, and taking pictures of crazy statues and especially the distinctive locals we come across. Our favorite travel photos come from this exploration. Like the woman leaning on her second story window sill and waving at us in Gdansk, Poland. The man playing a saxophone on the street with his cat in Tallin, Estonia. The woman sitting on the sidewalk sewing on her sewing machine, her stack of fabric on the concrete by her feet, in Bangkok, Thailand. The woman leaning on her hat prop in Montecristi, Ecuador as she deftly plaits the straw for her panama hats. The man spearing the bread as it spills out of his giant oven and then offering some to us with a smile in Malaysia. The laughing gentleman in a wooden shelter serving lemoncello as we trekked around the paths above Corniglia, Italy.

One of our favorite travel writers, Pico Iyer, stated, “A person susceptible to wanderlust is not so much addicted to movement as committed to transformation.” I believe this sums up our travel style, wandering and observing and exploring and experiencing the world we have been given to live in.

We are not really tour people. But we book a bike ride through the rice paddies of Koto Kinabalu, Malaysia and a food tour on scooters driven by college students through the alleys of Ho Chi Minh City, Vietnam. A gentleman in an old sedan drove us for the day around the countryside of Trujillo, Peru and we delighted in a walking tour of Rothenburg, Germany with the Night Watchman.

Those tours are perfect because they transform us. Not like bus tours where guests lumber up into a bus filled with 45 people to shop at a gift store and have a drive-by view of some self imposed must see in a city.

Today we left the ship to visit the Old Town of Cartagena. We were sure there would be taxis to drop us to the inner part of the city. Our three new friends from Houston emerged at the exact same moment so we conspired to nab a taxi together, and then, because they speak Spanish, we determined that we could learn a lot from these interpreters! With a laugh and a swagger, we were off to roam, to wander this colorful town.

Because we had taken an early departure from the ship, the streets of Cartagena were empty. We snapped photo after photo of the pastel colored buildings, burgeoning flower baskets, and the few locals wandering the town before we dropped into a cafe for coffee. Annie told us to order an “un tinto”, a Colombian coffee. Deep and aromatic, the smell was a rich concoction of perfectly roasted beans. Just lovely. A delightful break.

Heading towards the town market, we were suddenly inundated by tourists. And we knew that these people were tourists because they had neck straps with numbers and a headset on their ears. Busses were everywhere and people were pushing and weaving to get in to the market stalls. We were literally met with a wall of tourists!

We extricated ourselves from the throngs of humans and raced up the stone steps of the city wall to the ramparts so we could catch a sea breeze and breathe again. Walking the stone barrier, we observed the masses below who believed that they had to travel en masse. No wandering for them. They were afraid to get lost. To step off the beaten path. Maybe they would spot a native instead of an American. Maybe they would see the local side of the city, or as we believe, the best part of the city.

Rick and I are never afraid to find the true town, the real heartbeat of a city or village. And our desire is that more tourists become travelers like us.

Waiting on a ferry on Bataan Peninsula in the Philippines, we wandered past a tiny lean-to stone building with a short, smiling Filipino standing at the doorway holding a large spoon. “I have fresh chicken and potato soup,” she declared. Why not. With anticipation, we pulled up a plastic chair at her tiny wooden table as she stirred a large pot on her makeshift stove, wearing mismatched clothes and plastic curlers in her hair. As we ate her delicious meal, she talked to us in her broken English. We were right at home. And all because we wandered and made another special friend from across the world.

Connections. Just by wandering. We believe they are the best travel memories. Walking back to our ship, many cruisers were exuberantly showing off their purchases. The five of us just smiled. We didn’t get off the ship to shop. We went out into the town to meet people, to savor the food, to discover the true essence of the city called Cartagena. And we think we found it.

So, wander and find your own transformative connections.

Asi que deambula y encuentra tus propias conexiones transformadoras.