Tarun Sharma

I was wandering the backstreets of a small town in Canada, map useless in my hand, phone nearly dead, and not a single person around who seemed to notice my confusion. For a moment, panic took over — I felt completely disconnected, small, and very far from anything familiar.

But after a few deep breaths, I slowed down. I looked around and started observing instead of stressing. I used hand gestures, a smile, and a little humility to ask for help — and surprisingly, the world responded with kindness. A local couple walked me to the nearest bus station and even gave me tips on where to go next.

That moment taught me something big: you’re never really lost when you’re open to being found.

Travel often reminds us how wildly different — and equally magical — two cities can be.

Tokyo, Japan A futuristic city that somehow runs on ancient rhythms. Every second in Tokyo feels like precision-engineered magic — from silent subway rides to neon-lit alleys. The culture is orderly, respectful, and detail-oriented, yet packed with quirk and creativity. Sushi bars, vending machines, quiet gardens — it’s like living in a sci-fi poem.

Barcelona, Spain In contrast, Barcelona lives and breathes warmth. It's loud, vivid, and full of soul. Gaudí’s architecture twists and dances above cobbled lanes, and street music follows you from beach to bar. Life is slower, savored, and shared over tapas. Where Tokyo is poised perfection, Barcelona is passionate chaos — and both leave a mark.

I was hopelessly lost in the winding cobblestone alleys of Trastevere, Rome — phone dead, map useless, and rain beginning to fall. I must’ve looked more confused than I realized because a local elderly man noticed and approached with a warm smile. Despite the language barrier, he didn’t just give me directions — he walked me nearly ten blocks to my destination.

We spoke through gestures, Google Translate (on his phone), and lots of laughter. Before parting ways, he handed me a wrapped biscotti from his bag — “for luck,” he said in broken English.

That small act of kindness reminded me that humanity speaks louder than any language. Travel teaches us geography, but strangers like him teach us grace.

One warm November evening in Thailand, I found myself swept into magic by complete accident. I had no idea I had landed in Chiang Mai during Yi Peng — the Lantern Festival. I was just looking for pad Thai, and instead, I walked into a sky full of floating dreams.

Everywhere I turned, people were lighting paper lanterns, releasing them into the sky with wishes written on them. The streets were glowing, buzzing with chants, music, and a collective hopefulness I hadn’t experienced before. No Instagram post had prepared me for this kind of beauty. No guidebook had promised such joy.

It was a celebration of light over darkness, new beginnings, and ancient tradition — and I was simply lucky to witness it. If you ever get a chance to “accidentally” be in the right place at the right time, say yes. The universe might just light up the sky for you too.

here are sunrises, and then there’s that sunrise—etched into memory like a dream you never want to wake from.

It happened in Bagan, Myanmar. I climbed to the top of an ancient pagoda just before dawn, the sky still draped in navy blue. Slowly, the horizon bled with color—amber, coral, violet—until the entire plain was bathed in a golden glow. Dozens of hot air balloons floated silently above the temples like lanterns in slow motion. It was quiet. Still. Sacred.

I didn't check my phone. I didn’t speak. I just was. And in that moment, I truly understood the magic of travel—not to see more, but to feel more.

📸 If you’ve ever experienced a sunrise that made time pause, you know exactly what I mean.

There’s a quiet kind of magic in slowing down while you travel. Instead of rushing from one tourist spot to another, I’ve learned to linger—to soak in the sounds, the scents, and the everyday rhythm of unfamiliar places.

Whether it’s sipping coffee at a street-side café in Lisbon, wandering through the misty hills of Sri Lanka with no destination in mind, or simply watching a sunset from a bench in Kyoto—those unhurried moments become the most vivid memories.

Traveling slow invites presence. You notice the details: the way locals greet each other, the pace of daily life, the little rituals you’d miss in a blur of checklists and itineraries. It’s not just about where you go, but how deeply you connect with where you are.

In a world that values speed, slow travel is a gentle rebellion. And honestly? It’s the best kind. 🌿

If I had the power to teleport this very second, I’d find myself on the shores of Lake Bled in Slovenia. Picture this: a glacial lake with an emerald glow, a tiny church on an island in the center, and snow-capped Julian Alps watching over it all. Serenity. Magic. Stillness. No airport lines, no stress—just peace.

I’d start the morning rowing across the lake in a wooden pletna boat, then hike to Bled Castle and sip espresso while soaking in panoramic views. I wouldn’t even need Wi-Fi. Just a journal, a pen, and the sound of nature.

One of my earliest travel memories takes me back to a family trip to the Great Sand Dunes National Park in Colorado. I was about eight, armed with a plastic shovel, wild imagination, and absolutely no sense of direction.

While my parents set up a picnic, I wandered off to "dig for treasure" behind a dune. Five minutes turned into twenty, and soon, the world looked unfamiliar. I wasn’t scared at first—until every sand hill started to look the same. Then came the panic.

Suddenly, through the wind and sand, I heard my mom calling my name. I followed the voice and spotted her—running with arms open and the kind of relief only a parent can show. Turns out, I’d walked in a wide circle and wasn’t far at all.

That day, I learned two things:

Never explore without telling someone.

Getting lost can be part of the adventure—as long as you find your way back.

It’s funny how such a small moment becomes a core memory. That trip planted the seed for my lifelong love of exploration.

Packing light = peace of mind. Here’s what actually makes the cut:

🧥 One cozy layer (always cold on planes)

📱 Phone + charger + earbuds

🪥 Toiletry pouch: toothbrush, face mist, lip balm, deodorant

📖 A book or Kindle (yes, I still read on planes)

🧦 Comfy socks + a change of underwear

✍🏼 Small journal + pen (never know when inspiration hits)

🍫 Snacks I trust (airport food is a gamble)

🧘🏼‍♀️ Eye mask + meds = survival kit for long flights

While visiting Kyoto, I stumbled upon something that genuinely changed my view of cultural hospitality—omotenashi, the Japanese concept of selfless hospitality.

It wasn't a grand gesture. I was simply lost in a quiet alley near Gion when an elderly woman noticed me scanning Google Maps. She didn’t speak English, and I barely spoke Japanese, but with a warm smile, she walked me all the way to my ryokan—a 15-minute detour for her. No expectation of thanks, no rush, just quiet kindness.

In a world that often feels rushed and transactional, this quiet grace stunned me. It reminded me that cultural richness often lies in the little things—unspoken generosity, deeply rooted customs, and how people treat strangers.

Since that day, I’ve tried to bring a bit of omotenashi into my own life.

Here’s my curated vibe list—a mix of visuals, feelings, and moments that define my travel aesthetic. Whether you're planning your next escape or just daydreaming, let this mood board guide your imagination:

🕊️ Vibes:

Golden hour light over cobbled streets in Lisbon

The clink of espresso cups at a Roman café

Warm linen blowing from a Greek island balcony

Faint indie music in a vintage Paris bookstore

Bare feet on warm terracotta tiles

Winding train rides through alpine valleys

Journaling under fairy lights in a Bali bungalow

The scent of spices from a Marrakech souk

Rolling suitcases on cool airport floors at 4 a.m.

Laughing with strangers over street food in Seoul

🖼️ Mood Board Colors:

Burnt sienna

Sky blue

Creamy beige

Olive green

Dusky lavender

If you’re dreaming of long-term travel or just looking to see the world with fresh eyes, “Vagabonding: An Uncommon Guide to the Art of Long-Term World Travel” by Rolf Potts is a must-read. This book isn’t just about practical travel tips—it’s about philosophy, mindset, and the soul of wanderlust.

Potts reminds us that travel is less about escape and more about immersion. He challenges the idea that travel is something only the rich or retired can do, showing instead how it’s a deliberate lifestyle choice that’s accessible and deeply enriching.

📚 Why it inspired me:

It redefined travel as a slow, intentional experience.

It emphasized meaningful encounters over tourist checklists.

It gave me the push I needed to prioritize experiences over possessions.

If you’ve ever felt called to the open road or wondered what it might be like to live freely, this book is your roadmap.

While exploring the sun-drenched hills of southern Spain, I found myself standing before one of the most breathtaking displays of architecture I’ve ever seen—the Alhambra in Granada.

A masterpiece of Islamic art and architecture, the Alhambra isn't just a palace—it's a story told through stone, light, and symmetry. The intricately carved arabesques, endless mosaic patterns, and tranquil reflecting pools made me feel like I had stepped into another world—one where art was the language and every detail held meaning.

✨ What stood out most:

The muqarnas (ornamental vaulting) in the Hall of the Abencerrajes.

Light filtering through latticed windows, casting lace-like shadows.

The way water, tiles, and space created perfect harmony.

🥟 Street Dumplings in Taipei: A Bite-Sized Revelation

Of all the culinary gems I’ve discovered while exploring new places, nothing compares to the pan-fried pork dumplings I stumbled upon in Taipei's Raohe Night Market.

The moment I took my first bite—crispy on the outside, juicy on the inside—I knew I had found something special. The vendor smiled knowingly, having seen that same expression on countless other faces.

Why this food moment stuck with me:

🔥 The texture combo was unreal: crunchy edges with a savory, steamy center.

🧄 Flavors? Think garlic, sesame, and perfectly seasoned pork wrapped in a golden hug.

🌆 The setting—under lantern light, shoulder-to-shoulder with locals—made it unforgettable.

If you’re a foodie traveler like me, this is one dish you must experience for yourself.

Lisbon absolutely swept me off my feet with its charm, but like any first-time trip, I learned a few things the hard way. Here’s what I wish I had known before exploring Portugal’s beautiful capital:

Those hills are no joke Lisbon is built on seven hills, and the cobblestone streets can be steep and slippery. Comfortable shoes are non-negotiable.

Public transport is cheap and efficient Grab a Viva Viagem card—it works on trams, metros, buses, and even ferries. The iconic yellow tram 28 is a must-do, but it's also a tourist magnet. Go early!

Portuguese cuisine is more than just pastéis de nata Sure, those custard tarts are heavenly, but don’t skip dishes like bacalhau à brás (salted cod) or bifana (pork sandwich). Also, try Ginjinha, the local cherry liquor.

The Atlantic breeze can be chilly Even on sunny days, the ocean breeze can make things cooler than expected. Bring a light jacket or scarf.

English is widely spoken—but don’t skip the basics Most locals speak English, but greeting them in Portuguese (like saying "Olá" or "Obrigado/a") is always appreciated.

Time moves slower here Meals are long, coffee is sipped slowly, and sunsets are events. Embrace the laid-back rhythm—it’s part of the magic.

Avoid taxis—use Bolt or Uber instead Rideshare apps are cheaper and more reliable than local taxis.

Sunsets at Miradouros are unforgettable Find your favorite lookout point (Miradouro da Senhora do Monte or Santa Catarina) and watch the city bathe in golden light.

Tucked away in the mountainous south of Albania lies the enchanting town of Gjirokastër, a place that often slips under the radar for many travelers — but absolutely shouldn’t. Known as the “Stone City,” Gjirokastër is a UNESCO World Heritage Site with a surreal blend of Ottoman-era architecture, ancient cobbled streets, and breathtaking hilltop views.

🧳 Why Gjirokastër is Worth Discovering:

Authentic Albanian Charm: Unlike tourist-heavy cities, Gjirokastër maintains a quiet, authentic vibe. You’ll find locals chatting over coffee, street markets full of handmade goods, and hidden courtyards full of stories.

Gjirokastër Castle: One of the biggest castles in the Balkans, offering panoramic views and a fascinating museum inside.

Affordable & Untouched: It's budget-friendly and largely untouched by mass tourism, making it ideal for slow travelers and photographers alike.

Delicious Local Cuisine: Try byrek, qifqi (rice balls), and local wines at small family-run restaurants.

🌍 Whether you're a history lover, solo traveler, or someone chasing places that feel like time stood still, Gjirokastër will make you fall in love with the unexpected.

Would you explore this hidden gem? Drop your thoughts or tag a friend who needs to see this!

There’s something unforgettable about your first international trip — the nervous excitement, the rush of unknown streets, the thrill of passport stamps. But if I could rewind time, I’d tap myself on the shoulder and whisper a few things that would’ve made the experience smoother and more fulfilling. So here’s what I wish I knew:

1. Travel insurance isn’t optional. It sounds boring, but when your flight gets canceled or your bag disappears in transit, you’ll be glad you spent the extra cash.

2. You don’t need to pack your entire closet. Seriously. Choose versatile clothes and always leave room for souvenirs. You’ll wear the same few outfits on repeat anyway.

3. Learn basic local phrases. Even just “hello,” “thank you,” and “sorry” go a long way in showing respect and making connections — especially in smaller towns.

4. Google Maps doesn’t always save you. Offline maps are a lifesaver. Download them before you lose signal halfway through a scenic but confusing street in a new city.

5. Jet lag is real. Plan for rest. Trying to “power through” without sleep will ruin your first day. Give your body time to adjust — your experience will be better for it.

6. Local food might scare you, but try it anyway. I hesitated with street food in Bangkok and almost missed out on the most flavorful meals of my life. Be smart, not fearful.

7. You’ll get lost. Embrace it. Some of the best stories and memories happen when you’re off track. Stay calm, stay open, and keep exploring.

8. Take photos, but don’t live through the lens. Capture moments, not every second. Be in the experience — not just documenting it.

9. People are more kind than you expect. Strangers helped me with directions, invited me to local spots, and smiled even when we didn’t share a language.

10. You’ll come back different. And that’s beautiful. The person who returns won’t be the same one who left. You’ll grow — in perspective, in courage, and in connection.