Change Your Life! Or: From Gun Drills to Luxury With an Idol

"Safe Mode Drill for school shooting threat," reads my Google Calendar for April 30, 2009: exactly one year ago today. "Do NOT allow students out of classroom. If they need bathroom during drill, do not allow them. Bomb-sniffing police dogs will be in halls and may attack."

Under this note is a second one: "Grade all 64 Senior essays before Monday!"

Yes, that's right: Exactly a year ago today, my students and I were practicing hiding from hypothetical school gunmen, and I had a long night of grading ahead of me.

Fast forward 365 days to today, April of 2010. What does my Google Calendar read now?

"Valencia, Spain. One of the best dinners of my life, free! Fascinating conversation with the heads of Spain's Ministry of Tourism alongside the world's number one travel blogger. Euphoria!"

WHOA! What in the name of all that is logical and possible has happened here?!

Let us start at the beginning and see through how this all progressed, because there are hefty lessons in this tale for all of us.

In August of 2009, after six years teaching high school English with the Boston Public Schools, I began my unpaid Leave of Absence and flew out of my hometown towards the other side of the world. Objective: Travel a lot, volunteer, and write the heck out of it. But you likely already knew this part.

Now, at the moment I began my blog nine months ago and peeked my curly head into this wild travel blogging world, it became evident that there were (as there are in every field) a handful of Big-Shot Bloggers: the heavy-weights with the most readers, the highest reputations, and longest existence.

I started to discover travel blog rankings, and noted that Gary Arndt of Everything Everywhere was consistently ranked Number One. Oh, what surprise one day in November of 2009 (before I had even broken into the Top 100 Blogs) when I tweeted a little somethin'-somethin' on Twitter... and Gary Arndt himself tweeted back a response! What an honor to have contact with Mr. Number One!

Lesson 1: Blog big-shots are fabulous to idolize because they are shockingly ACCESSIBLE: much more so than big-shot book authors or newspaper journalists.

Lesson 2 (which Gary taught us all today at a Spain tourism conference): Successful social media hotshots become big and stay big because they LISTEN well to "conversations" going on in their field, then take the time to helpfully (or humorously) INTERACT! The effect is powerful, trust-inducing... and warm and fuzzy.

I began increasingly interacting with Gary, first on Twitter, and then on the more personal channels of Facebook and G-chat. Why? Because not only is this fellow majorly knowledgeable about long-term world travel and blogging after FOUR YEARS on the road... but he's also a fun guy!

April rolled around, and suddenly I noticed in one of Gary's Tweets that he was headed for... Spain! Where I was! I did a quick calculation and realized that he would be far, geographically, from me: 9 hours away by train, to be exact. Bummer.

But then I did an even quicker calculation and realized: A medium-sized investment of time and rump discomfort was well worth the potential to meet one of my idols-- even if it was just for a brief coffee. At least I would have then TRIED... tried to reach for the stars of my new career field.

Little did I realize the dream I was about to walk into. Would we just have a brief coffee and chat at that would be it? NO.

It turns out that the world's number one travel blogger has an extremely generous side. Hence, since Tuesday (and in fact, for a handful of days more to come, praise the heavens), Gary has taken me as his buddy and translator. He has shared brilliant blog and social media advice, brought me along on all his luxurious Spain Tourism meals and events, and overall been utterly fantastic.

The photos in this article are from the celestial new Valencian restaurant, Arrop, which our new best friend, the Valencia tourism representative, guided us to. See the stone walls amid the sleek modern decor in Arrop's interior? Those preserved ruins are the original Arab walls of Valencia from hundreds and hundreds of years ago! That meal and that restaurant will go down in history.

Lesson 3: TRY to reach for your craziest dreams. They sometimes come true!

If I had never tried to experiment with social media sites like Twitter, Gary may never have given me the opening to talk with him. If I had never followed up after seeing Gary's Tweet about Spain to inquire whether he would meet me for a short time, I never would have had this phenomenal experience. And indeed: this experience is PHENOMENAL.

Lesson 4: A little sacrifice can bring massive dividends. Do I now think that 9 hour train ride to Valencia was worth it? YES! And YES! And YES, YES, YES!

Lesson 5: Famous and wildly successful people can also be excellent human beings, too. And it seems we can all learn from each other and enjoy each others' company, be we big, medium, or small... as long as we're good people.

It spins the brain to realize how vastly different my life is in April of 2010 than in was in April of 2009. Now please note: There was so much I loved about teaching (yes, even sometimes the grading), and I still love it so deeply that I'm starting a Boston sub job a few days after reentering my hometown this month!

To emphasize this point about loving both the past and the present, let's end by reading the third and final To Do Task for last year under April 30, 2009 (after the school shooting drill instructions and burdensome grading reminder):

"Celebration to share student poems! Bake and bring chocolate brownies."

Now hear this: Those brownies we ate together in our Boston classroom exactly one year ago, spiced with the sparkling thoughts of those adolescents as they read their words aloud, deserved a five-star rating right along with tonight's phenomenal dinner. They really did.

For me, it's not that teaching is bad and travel is better-- it's that variety and constant learning are great!

The Most Beautiful Building I've Seen in a Looong Time

Come, walk with me.

You have likely seen pictures of the world-famous Mezquita of Cordoba, Spain, have you not?

Are you already familiar with those arches upon arches of striped white and russet red?

Well, today is the day you will see it in the flesh, you lucky duck!

Step one: Identify that the entrance ticket to the the Mezquita is free if you show up before ten in the morning, but also identify that you are a lazy bum who is trying to shake off a flu, and thus a few extra hours of sleep may be worth forking out the 8 Euro ($12 Dollar) afternoon ticket price.

Step Two: Wake up late, eat your meager free hostel breakfast (Corn Flakes... always Corn Flakes), then lope the few blocks to the hulking sand-colored structure and buy your ticket.

Next, wander around the unassuming courtyard (mmm... those flowering orange trees smell delicious!), and proceed to get embarrassingly lost and confused. Be stunned at your ability to become turned around in a relatively straightforward courtyard.

Finally, swallow your pride and ask a security guard how the heck to actually enter this famous building.

Orientation set, hand your ticket to the guard and stride into the cool darkness.

Step Three: Hear your heart holler: "HOLY HEAVEN!!!"

All the pictures you saw before most certainly did NOT convey the power that is smacking you in the face with celestial oomph!

You saw those arches reprinted on paper, but did you realize that they stretch on, and on, and on, and-- oooh!-- they continue around the next three corners! Walk around with an awe-struck shuffle, mouth agape, heart a-thump.

On all sides of you, other tourists are murmuring: "Splendid! Just splendid!" and, "Ooh, it is LOVELY, honey!" Or my favorite: a throaty, euphoric moan of ecstasy.

But like a Cadbury Creme Egg, sampling the outer layer of the Mezquita is just the beginning. Did you know that the Mezquita is actually a church turned mosque turned church? And the architecture is all the more fascinating for it.

In the year 400 A.D. the Visigoths began building the structure as a Christian church. In 784 A.D. it was bought by an Emir and made into a massive mosque which was added to and added to with each coming year.

For the subsequent centuries, that Great Mosque of Cordoba was the heart and soul of the Islamic community of Al Andalus.

Even today it remains the largest Mosque in Western Europe-- although it is not technically a Mosque anymore.

After the Spanish Reconquista, the Great Mosque was seized by King Ferdinand in 1236 and turned into a Catholic house of worship.

A huge and holy church, along with endless glittering Jesus sculptures, was inserted right into the MIDDLE of the delicious Moorish architecture. Talk about pushing one religion on (or in this case, into) another!

And this brings us to the scrumptious center of this magical building. Walk past the thousands upon thousands of wonderful Islamic arches, and suddenly-- OH!-- there is a zillion-foot-tall ceiling in the center with creamy white curls of decoration so tender and delicate, you will want to lick the walls! But please do not. This is a house of worship, after all.

I spent a ton of time gasping and cooing at the loveliness (bopping between the Islamic and the Christian sections), all the while crouching in different frog-like positions to try to show you, oh reader, the scale of it all with my little point-and-click camera.

I hope you can somewhat get a feel for the power of the Mezquita's enormity through these shots! Look for the teensy tiny little humans in each photo to get an idea of how wee you feel when inside.

So how does this building reflect the town it is in? Well, Cordoba, Spain, was (for a time) a historically fabulous example of harmony in diversity.

In old Cordoba, Christians, Muslims, and Jews lived, worked, and traded side by side, each group contributing its talents and structures to the city.

If you walk through the charming streets of Cordoba today, you will see a breathtaking church here, and an ornate Islamic door decoration there; a great Synagogue here, and the biggest Mosque in Western Europe there.

Unfortunately, I recently heard a rumor that, because many Muslims still hold the Mezquita as a holy place and try to pray, special Catholic "Prayer Guards" now prowl the premises to hurl any non-Catholic worshiper out the door.

If this is indeed true, it seems rather too bad. Why not (asks the naive mixed child) have areas for each group to pray within the same building?

There are theories afoot that children of mixed parentage are the most beautiful: from Black-White Barack Obama to my Japanese-Welsh college roommate Meg, to, well, Jewish-Christian me!

But whether or not it is actually true that crossbreeding creates hotter humans, you really get the feeling standing in the Mezquita that it is true for art!

When you mix the best of Islamic architecture with the best of Christian architecture-- hoo man!-- you get a wonder of the world.

The 300th Article in 9 Months, 2 Weeks Before Boston!

Today marks the THREE HUNDREDTH article on Around the World "L" in nine months!

We are also now at: 352 blog Followers (click "Follow" on the right sidebar if you haven't already!), 1,258 Twitter Followers, 250 Facebook Fans, and a #93th-in-the-world ranking on TravelBlogSites.com... and rising. Huzzah!

Let us celebrate with an update of what the heck is going on, and where the heck this is all going. First and most importantly, though I will be flying back to Boston in two weeks (oh my home, how I have missed you!), this blog WILL GO ON for another year at least.

Why is this? Because after teaching summer school (which, rest assured, will be supremely blog-worthy, within the bounds of paranoid American student privacy laws), I will begin a new job... abroad! Thrilling details are still being worked out, but it now appears that I will be flying out of Boston again in early August to continue the Around the World adventure for many more months!

Now this brings up the issue of AMBITION. Do you consider yourself an "Ambitious Person?" To be honest, I never before saw myself as ambitious. I never wanted to be.

Even when I was a varsity high jumper in college (that's where being six feet tall will bring you), I was infamous for choking at the last minute, thus bringing home second or third place instead of first-- even when I had previously proven in practice that I could jump that winning height. I just didn't have that fire to win. Was it a gender thing? Was it the belief that winning will make a girl hated?

Then for six years in Boston, I was content to quietly chug away in my little classroom. The aspiration of becoming a truly effective teacher is a heavenly one, but through it all, I never considered myself ambitious, nor did I take the steps to rise in my field the ways I could have. That's not good.

But all this has changed since the birth of this blog last July. I am now officially AFLAME with sparkling, sizzling, scrumptious AMBITION... and it feels great! I am writing and traveling like a maniac, and networking to such an extent that right now, as you read this, I am having dinner in Valencia, Spain with the number ONE travel blogger in the entire WORLD (who, by the way, is extremely nice), plus a head honcho of the Valencia Tourism Board!

What is my ambition now? To have tons and TONS of new, wonderful readers like you! I want what I write to get READ and interacted with, and I want to be KNOWN (positively of course) in this scene. Ambition: it's not a bad thing!

Photo Note: These are the last set of photos from gorgeous Granada, Spain, before I unleash the current Cordoba and Valencia pics. Ahh Granada: even your graffiti is pretty!

Spain's Alhambra, Hippies in a Forest, and a Night Out

I was really thrown off when the two guys never came home from the forest.

Now before I launch into this story, let's all learn, like the refrain sung by the whole audience during a folk music concert, a useful phrase: "Forcing it."

The phrase, "Miss, you FORCED IT with the homework" was used ad nauseam in Boston Public Schools to mean: "Madam teacher, we believe the amount of work you are giving is too much." In other contexts, "Forcing it" basically means going way over the top. Bear this in mind because you will need this as a chorus link to connect this tale of hippies and castles and dance clubs.

When I first arrived in the fantastic Oasis Hostel in Granada, Spain, I befriended two chaps: One German named Phillip, with whom I went running, and one British youngster named Tom with a plaid shirt and innocent glow.

When you initially arrive somewhere, you are particularly vulnerable, and thus much more open to deep bonds with new friends. (This is one reason to travel in the first place!) Hence Phillip, Tom, and I bonded beautifully those first few days: going on tours together, eating together, and chatting through the warm evening. It was nice to have a gang again!

Then Tom popped a question. "Do you two want to travel with me two hours to a hippie squatter commune in a forest?" he asked. I stared at him in shock. "I'm running out of money," explained the 20-year-old, "So I need to find free places to sleep the next few months. I think I want to move to that forest commune. They don't use money or anything. They just barter vegetables."

Being a lover of all things extreme, I agreed to accompany him, setting my alarm for six in the morning and obtaining a promise from Tom that we would return to Granada before nightfall. Phillip said he would join as well. Come dawn, I descended to the hostel lobby to meet my buddy.

At this point, Tom gave me a few more details about the day's plan, and suddenly it became clear: this schedule involved a whole lot of hitchhiking. Nope! I draw the line there. With apologies, I bowed out of the scheme and ascended back to my ten-person bunk bed dorm.

That evening back in the hostel after a sweet day of sightseeing around town, I turned down several offers to grab some tapas with other folks so I could wait around for Phillip and Tom to return from the forest. I was so curious how the hippie commune had been! But midnight rolled around, and no familiar faces showed up. I began to grow worried.

I meandered over to the receptionist. "Did those two guys come back from that forest yet?" I asked, trying to stay calm.

"They're not coming back," said Juan. "They're moving there to live."

"Wait, no!" I stuttered. "They said they would be back before dark!"

"I'm not sure," said Juan. "But those kinds of squatter settlements are common here in Andalusia. You've seen the caves here in Granada where all those hippies live?"

"I haven't been there yet," I said, "but our walking tour guide told us that it's kind of dangerous to live there because often the previous "Gypsy" owners come back with knives to reclaim their "father's cave."

"That's true," said Juan. "Anyway, don't wait up for those guys. You probably won't see them again."

I felt empty. Eight and a half months of meeting people in a travel whirl and then saying goodbye a few days later is odd enough, but when you don't even get the chance to actually SAY farewell or exchange contact information with a person who has connected with you and changed the way you think about things, well... that just makes you dizzy.

The next day I went alone to the Alhambra: Spain's absolutely mind-boggling palace and fortress complex that was created and inhabited by the Muslim Sultans of the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries.

I mean... look at these pictures. L'Alhambra is nuts! It is absolutely stunning... and absolutely huge. I walked with the thousand other tourists (most notably a gaggle of fifty French high schoolers who began playing catch with their hats) through breathtaking room after room, spire after spire, vista after vista, garden after garden. Oh, our aching hearts at the sheer beauty of it all!

Can you see the woven detail carved into each stone pillar? Can you envision the height of each domed room that my camera could not even begin to capture? Do you gasp as I do to see all of your Arabian Nights and Prince of Persia fantasies in rock-hard reality in the real world? L'Alhambra is a wonder of the world.

Six hours later (SIX hours, and I didn't even BEGIN to see everything!) I returned to the hostel, sunburned and boggled. You know very well that I peeked around for two certain faces... but there was still no sign of Phillip or Tom.

I did some writing, took a shower, then realized from the hordes of folks gathering in the lobby that it was a Friday, and hence it was dancing time for all with functional feet and available time!

Finally it became clear: I needed to forget about my previous bonds and previous friends and make some new ones. I hadn't been out on the town in a while, as I've been fighting off a flu or cold or something, but that very night was the time to give revelry a try again.

Half an hour later, I found myself in a herd of nine women (from Argentina, France, Italy, Ireland, Spain, Canada, America, etc.) and one very wide-eyed young American boy, being led by two hostel staff members to a local tapas establishment.

"I am the only guy," stuttered the American, eyes growing wider and wider. "One guy and nine women... How can I possibly satisfy everyone??"

But the boy did his best, running hither and thither with drinks and tapas, chatting up France and then Argentina as I cheered him on. Go, America, go!

"How long have you worked at the hostel?" I asked one of the guides.

"Nine months," the man said, passing the plate of fried potato tapas to the overwhelmed American boy.

"Nine months: like a baby!" I said, because that's how I think when I think about time. Symbolic babies.

"Huh?" the man said, "How did you know I have a baby?"

"Oh," I said. "But that's not really what I meant."

"My son was an accident," the man replied in explanation.

I couldn't help but ask my usual Public Health Research Question at such a comment: "Were you not using protection or did you use protection and it failed?"

"I've gone so long not using protection that I figured I was impotent," the man replied.

"Oh," I said. "I guess you aren't."

Three of the women left and the American boy slapped his forehead in anguish. But there were five women remaining! The boy was still in the game!

We moved on to the next place: a dance club. Dancing! I love dancing, but I haven't done it in so long because you need a good group of folks, rockin' music, and a safe vibe for it to flow well. But all elements were there-- and so we danced! It was Hip Hop, it was Latin, it was Salsa, it was great DJing... It was fabulous!

Half an hour in, the Irish and French girls disappeared to request songs from the DJ. They returned quickly, dejected.

"He says he doesn't have Justin Timberlake!" the French girl growled in Spanish. The girls tried to keep dancing, but the wind had been taken out of their sails.

Inspired (or rather, excited by the challenge to successfully request), I approached the DJ's throne.

"Do you have the song 'Destination Unknown'?" I screamed in Spanish over the beats.

"No," said the DJ, aloof and kingly.

This was a blow. Oh, that song, that song! Perhaps you can tell why I like it. The lyrics go like this:

"I left my job, my boss, my car, and my home... I'm headed for a destination I still don't know."

But it wouldn't be played that night. Ah well. And so I went back to dancing to the good stuff that was on. At this point, I realized that two more of the women had left for sleep. We were down to three women and three men. The American boy's eyes were bright and he was hollering things like: "Shake it! Shake it!" clinging on to the remaining feminine possibilities.

Ten minutes later, I felt a tap on my arm. "We're headed back," said the Irish girl. "You know when you have a song in your head you want to hear and you can't hear it and then you can't focus on anything else? Well it's annoying us."

"I mean, how could a DJ not have Justin Timberlake?" added the French girl in fury.

I glanced around, did the gender and power math, and said: "I'm coming with you." Naturally, the American boy followed as well. The two hostel guides were at the bar and on the street, respectively, at this point and waved goodbye, distracted.

We walked through the winding streets of Granada, passing packed falafel and kebab stands and the two other girls began singing: "Cry me a rii-ver, oh! Cry me a riii-veeeer, oh!"

The third pack we passed of men munching kebabs began joining in to the song and we could still hear them belting out Justin's tune as we turned the final turn to our hostel: "Cry me a riiii-ver! Oh!"

"Who wants hot cocoa?" asked the American boy when we arrived at Oasis, eager as a bouncy puppy. We drank the freshly-stirred cocoa and heard about the boy's study abroad program in Scotland. I had some deep thoughts regarding the concept of age and the fact that I was about ten years older than this young scamp.

"Hey," said one of the girls suddenly, "did your friends ever make it back from that forest hippie town?"

"Nope," I said, "and I think I just have to let it go." And with that, I ascended up to my dorm and tried my hardest not to wake my other nine roommates while fishing around in the dark for my toothbrush and contact lens solution. When my pillow fell behind a snoring girl's bed, I balled up my smoky sweater and slept on that.

All this occurred over the course of twenty-four hours: A disappearance into a leafy hippie commune... Six hours in one of the most magnificent palaces ever built... A night of song and dance with characters from around the globe... And a fitful sleep on a balled-up sweater in a bunk bed in a packed room. Forcing it, all!

An Important Pre-Travel Warning About Your Passport

Do you know you can fly from Madrid or Barcelona, Spain, to Marrakesh, Morocco for the teensy price of 15 Euros or $22 U.S. Dollars?!

I was drooling all over the keyboard when I saw this Ryanair promotion, and was about to click "Buy" to fulfill my long-standing lust for quality North Africa time when-- BAM! -- an informational window popped up on my screen:

"You may not enter Morocco with a passport that expires in less than six months."

Heart pounding, I flipped open my little navy blue packet.

After some quick mental calculations, it became clear: I had a mere 5.5 months of passport validity remaining. Dagnabbit! Dreams dashed.

Now, the "Everything Happens for a Reason" mantra may come into play here, because the next day the ash cloud madness descended upon Europe, and my Morocco flight would have been utterly altered anyway.

However, the lesson remains: I should have renewed my passport before flying out of Boston in August in the first place.

"You should never travel anywhere with less than six months of passport validity," chided a hostel buddy. "I mean, it's usually not a big deal in the end, and you likely could have even snuck into Morocco unnoticed, but you really just don't want to risk it. Why didn't you just renew before you left your country, anyway?"

"I dunno," I mumbled, "I guess I didn't realize I should have."

But now we know!

Photo Note: Granada, Spain is preeetty, as is its massive Alhambra palace complex pictured here. And in the end, less Morocco means more Southern Spain, which ain't a bad deal.

How to Turn Your Hostel or Home into a Luxury Health Retreat!

Here are the series of events that occurred yesterday, each of which illustrates how you, too, can turn your low-budget hostel or everyday home into a luxurious health retreat for a few days or a week!

1pm: I arrive in a delicious hostel in Granada after a seven-hour bus ride from Madrid. I feel like utter trash: too many deep-fried or starchy tapas, not enough exercise or sleep, and too much bouncing from host to host, bus to bus, and place to place. Achy, puffy, stiff, and exhausted was I.

Principle 1: Identify when you desperately need a health retreat, because if you don't address this need head-on, you will feel awful indefinitely!

2pm: I consider going for a run, but it seems downright dangerous in a hilly, cobblestoned city that I don't know. I think to myself: "Maybe I should splurge on a Health Retreat or Yoga Center here in Southern Spain so I'll be surrounded by health-minded people and thus dragged along in a river of good living practices!"

I search the internet for such places and find ten: all of which cost over $150 a day, or even $2,000 for a week! That's nuts.

Principle 2: Real-life Health Retreats are really, really expensive. (I know of a few in Massachusetts and India for which you can exchange a few hours of labor a day for free participation and accommodation, but I couldn't seem to find those in this country!)

3pm: Something needed to be done for my aching bones and flabby muscles. I strapped on my workout gear, took the stairs to the rooftop terrace of the hostel (did I mention it's an amazing hostel?) and began some serious stretching, sit-ups, push-ups, and yoga, as best I could. I started to feel a little better! But it still didn't address my woeful cardiovascular situation.

Principle 3: The road to health begins with just beginning, somehow, somewhere!

3:30pm: Suddenly I hear a voice ask: "Have you just been to do the running?" I look up to see a towering German man, freshly checked-in to the hostel.

"No, no," I stutter, "I wanted to run but--"

"Ah, I see," he said, "You did not do the running, so now you are doing the gymnastic instead."

"Something like that," I sighed. "I really wanted to go running, though."

"Well then let's go!" said the man, who then promptly introduced himself as Phillip, dashed into his dorm, and returned five minutes later wearing an aerodynamic black spandex suit, declaring, "The thing with the running is to GO, not to think. That way it happens instead of not happens!"

And thus, just like that, we embarked on a fantastic 35-minute run through gorgeous Granada, taking in the sights, chatting, and giving some much-needed oxygen to our hearts.

Principle 4: You actually don't need to be in an official Health Retreat to find like-minded people who desire exercise and healthy living! Just keep putting out there that you are searching for them.

5pm: Phillip and I returned to the hostel rooftop terrace for stretching, calisthenics, and yoga. My entire being felt SO much better from the run! A bevy of Canadian, Japanese, and British tourists sat, staring at us.

"Man," said one girl, "I haven't exercised in months. I probably should."

"Hey," said another, "Remember in that other hostel where we met that woman who had just come from India and led us all in free Yoga classes? That was awesome!"

Principle 5: With a little effort, a whole flock of hostel residents (or locals from your town) could be mobilized into exercise fun! The desire exists within.

10am the Next Day: I felt so majorly much better after the previous day's run, stretching, healthy dinner, and snuggling in for an early bedtime! A revelation blossomed: anywhere can be a Health Retreat with a willpower-fueled, focused mindset!

Principle 6: Repeat the mantra: "I am in a Health Retreat this week!" as you arrange your schedule for exercise, your meals for wholesomeness, and your evening activities for quality rest.

11am: It becomes evident that part of the reason I'd been feeling so ragged was because I hadn't gotten my much needed solo "Me Time" in weeks, as I'd been staying in the homes of others. Hence, I carved out a big heap of time away from sightseeing to do the solitary things that rejuvenate me... such as writing these articles!

Principle 7: A big part of Health Retreats is solitary meditation and time away from whatever your personal "Rat Race" may be, so allow yourself this time, and don't worry about being seen as anti-social or freakish by others! This is YOUR retreat, dammit!

1pm: I realize that I am feeling better, while simultaneously saving hundreds and hundreds of dollars! Ergo, this would suggest I could splurge on a few "a la carte" pieces of an actual Health Retreat, such as local one-hour Yoga classes, or entrance for a day to a swimming pool or gym down the street! To be honest, I'm likely too cheap to even indulge in these, but the principle remains.

Principle 7: Congratulations! By creating your own personal Health Retreat in your hostel or home, you have just saved a boatload of money! Feel free to spend some of it on activities or items that improve your sense of well-being. Listen to thy body, heart, and soul for the sustenance it needs. Good luck!

Photo Note: How beautiful is Granada, Spain?! I am extending my stay here, big-time!

Pamela's Article 2: A Painful Lesson

Article #30 in the YCC Kids Club Ghana Student Life Stories Project
Understanding an Adult's Punishment
By Pamela Agbi, Age 14

This story is a story I will never ever forget in my life.

On the sixth of March, Ghana's Independence Day, Youth Creating Change organized an excursion to a huge celebration in Aburi Botanical Gardens, two hours from Sogakope.

All the students in YCC's Cross-Culture Class were organized to attend so that we could learn how to throw our own fundraising events for the educational exchange to the United Kingdom this August!

That day, on the sixth of March, 2010, all of us from Cross-Culture Class gathered very early at the YCC Guesthouse opposite the Global Evangelical Church, waiting for the bus. We were so excited! YCC's Director gathered us around. He said very solemnly, "We are ready to leave, BUT... not all and sundry will go."

"Oh no!" gasped one of my friends. The Director then took out his academic register, and began to read off for each of us which days of class we had missed, and which we had attended. Then, which homework assignments we had missed, and which we had completed. My heart turned cold.

I was the third person on the list, and the Director told me: "In eight days of Saturday class, you only came to five. Moreover, you did not do the most recent homework assignment."

"But I did do it!" I said. "I put it on a piece of paper and pasted it into a book I borrowed from a friend, and it must have fallen out!"

But the Director was firm in his decision. "I am teaching you not to be sloppy," he said. "It is better for you to learn this lesson now than in August as we set off to London."

So the students who were allowed go to Aburi were chosen. Their foods were parked in the bus, and they walked to their seats. Some of my friends standing at the road with me were crying. Many of our colleagues who were chosen to go were also crying, imagining how we must feel.

But I did not cry. Rather, I felt happy, because I have two proverbs that keep me on track:

1. We learn from mistakes. For example: Somebody will fall before you rise.

2. Something must be wrong before something will be correct. In other words, somebody must die before you live.

When the bus to Aburi drove off with the lucky students, we remaining few told Sir Oliver that he should give us books to do all the homework we owed, and we should not be allowed to leave before twelve noon. We asked Sir Oliver to provide food for us to eat, and he agreed.

This is my experience that I want to share with you, because I will benefit from it for the rest of my life.

Lillie's Note: Please leave Pamela a comment on her fascinating article! As a teacher, Pamela's story is particularly moving to read because it shows how much students learn from-- and in fact appreciate-- correction... whether or not they admit it. It also demonstrates the inspirational high standards of student behavior that I witnessed my whole three months in Ghana.

Help Give Advice to 16-21 Year Olds Planning to Travel!

Recently, I have gotten a bevy of emails from 16 to 21 year old women asking for advice on their dream of taking a year off to travel. This poses some difficult ethical dilemmas for me that I'd love your help with, dear readers.

Namely: How can our advice to these young prospective travelers balance my worship of travel as education, with my passion for all youth to obtain the educational degrees and work experience they need to succeed in the 21st century job market?

First, here is where I am coming from, personally: I am a 28-year-old who worked full-time as a public high school teacher for six years, saving money through work for this long voyage, and building up slowly for a year away through shorter international trips of one week to three months.

Before flying out of Boston for this nine-month Around the World trip, I had already volunteer taught, taken classes, or traveled through eight Latin American countries and smatterings of Europe during my summers off as a teacher.

Knowing this, here is my advice-in-progress to 16-21 year olds eager to take a year off to travel.

1. Getting a college degree is ESSENTIAL in this economy, and though you may very well appreciate schooling better after a little time away, once you leave the conventional "river" flow of education, sometimes it is difficult to get back in.

NEVER lose sight of the fact that you need to get your behind back to school ASAP after travel, or you will end up with worse jobs later down the road, and thus smaller earnings with which to embark on future travels!

2. Second only to a college degree in importance is work experience. Make SURE during your time out of school that at least half your time is spent in volunteer (or even paid) positions. Another useful and educational option is to take short-term classes-- anything from language to massage!

Not only will this help you learn new skills and give your resume a much-needed boost through volunteering or coursework, but being part of a helping or learning organization will make you feel less lonely and more like your travels are worthwhile.

3. Think carefully about whether you want to take an entire YEAR off to travel. Remember that as a college student, you have nearly 3 full months of summer vacation, and for me, that was the perfect amount of time for my first half-dozen voyages.

To be honest, I'm in month eight and a half of travel right now, and it's really pushing my limits, even as a 28-year-old with extensive travel experience! Consider starting small and working up to a year.

4. A major concern I have about young people without full-time work experience traveling is MONEY-- specifically the capacity to have enough self-created savings. Trust me: it is a whole lot more satisfying to travel knowing you earned all your funds your own self, and that's hard to accomplish for a full year's voyage unless you have been working full time for several years, which most people under 21 have not.

Moreover, it's more delicious to experience long-term travel if you've been in the working world for a few years and thus know what it's like to compare.

That said, a lot of this blog is about how travel can be accomplished for less than $1,000 a month (or $30 a day) once you get past the expensive initial plane tickets. This means that it is more than possible for young people save enough through their part time jobs for a few months of travel-- which brings us back to point number three: reconsider taking a full year off.

5. While I believe the majority of travel is just as safe as being at home, people embarking on their first long-term travel experiences must ALWAYS keep a good head on their shoulders.

Southeast Asia, for example, is full of literal buckets of alcohol for cheap, and as a result, it is also full of 20-year-old travelers projectile vomiting, falling off treacherous heights, or having pregnancy scares.

There are also always, alas, swindlers, gropers, robbers and worse (and yes, you can click each of those words for articles about each)-- though of course the good people of this world far outweigh the bad. Know that you will learn a ton in your travels, but try to learn it the wise way, not the hard way!

6. Now, here are some POSITIVES about traveling as a 16-21 year old! First, this "Gap Year" business is very common in Europe between high school and university, and thus you will be in very good company in areas such as Southeast Asia and Australia to which such Gap Year-ers tend to flow.

Second, the experience, perspectives, and skills gained through travel will give you a much more mature and wise view once you reenter your former life and educational path.

Third, this is an increasingly globalized world, so the knowledge of other cultures you will accrue will be invaluable in your later job searches-- and general future interactions with other humans.

So there you have my advice on your dreams, oh 16-21 year-old hopeful travelers!

To summarize: Never forget your education, make sure at least half your travel is volunteering or taking classes, consider starting your travel career with voyages of two to three months instead of a year, try to earn your own funds, be wise to be safe, and know: travel IS awesome and extremely educational, so you're on the right path!

What else am I missing in this advice, readers? And young prospective travelers, what further questions do you have?

Photo Note: All these pictures were taken in Granada, Spain, which I LOVE, LOVE, LOVE!