From Finding Melodies in Malady, a trip to Varanasi, India

A standard day in this life, a random cross-section, if you will, will normally include a moment like this, when you might as well be on stage doing something uncomfortable or awkward in front of people that don’t know or have to like you. That’s when the smile comes in handy. It catches people off guard and bounces the vulnerability back to the staring eyes. This is what I did as I shook the men awake, clean-and-pressed my backpack onto the top bunk, and gave back the change that had fallen on the mat from the men’s pockets.

The smiles, the change, the comfort exhibited in the expectedly uncomfortable situation; these are the ways in which I nestled into my place among people who hopefully respected me a little more than they had or wanted to. We were all just trying to sleep, and there is something really tender and endearing about the human condition that enables us to become engrossed in one giant sleep hug when the moon is high.

From Brazil…Check, a trek through Chapada Diamantina National Park in Lençois, Brazil

The most unexpected part was watching one of the guide’s backpacks float down some rapids we were debating on crossing, only to see him jump in at a moment of panic. The rain rerouted our travels to a cavern on a cliff where we spent a soggy night spooning on sleeping bags that smelt of unpleasant things. Alexis was careful to listen for jaguars outside our nylon walls, but Garrett focused on not rolling down a 60 foot drop. I, on the other hand, had little to think about other than the Chinese water torture nature was conducting on my forehead.

We survived the night and left alone to back track our travels to the rockslides, which went from amusing to abusive overnight. Arnaudo met us at the top of the falls to warn us against crossing, out of fear for our lives, so we lounged on the other side of this tourist destination and relaxed our burning feet in the cool waters. After twenty minutes of peace, we see crowds forming on the other edge of the water hole and men with ropes jumping haphazardly into the rapids. We started to pack up and look for the guide, but the men told us to stay. They were the survival crew from town, crossing the water to rescue us. The following twenty minutes included zip lines, cheers from the crowd, grasping rope for dear life, being pulled underwater by the force of the currents, the crowd taking pictures, bloody knees, bags flopping on the rocks, and a triple high-five from the three “Americanos” who were saved from danger in the Brazilian outback.

From Trek to the Tropical Tundra, a trek through the mountains of Kashmir

We had reached Tronakun and the tree line that introduces the arctic world above. Behind a gray cloud to the left was a peak, Haimuk Mountain, and an illusion of closeness and smallness that only came about because I really knew it was the biggest thing I’d ever seen so nearby. But then I turned to my right and saw the hills curve downward out of sight. A kilometer away into the air between vertical lands blew a thick snowstorm that stopped me as would an oncoming stampede or tsunami. It was stunning. Neighbor mountains pushed through the white enough for me to see the company I was surrounded by, the most beautiful and ferocious beasts. The men were already cresting the hill in front of me and insisted I not stop moving or I’d get stuck in a cold trap. Things, people, and sights can move you to cry, but this non-replicable display, this one time vista stopped my heart. I shifted my weight, wrapped my snow-crusted scarf around my entire head, and shook in disbelief of what I was now forced to abandon for the rest of the walk to the camp site.