You sit in front of the computer day after day and stare at the perfectly placed letters on the keyboard, gently depress them and watch as the black soils the white background, willing them to form words, words that will form sentences, sentences that will form paragraphs, willing those paragraphs to become pages upon pages of a masterpiece. A story that might touch you, a story that may make you laugh, a story that could make you question, a story that should make you think, an unforgettable creation.

Now, what if you didn’t have a story and had only the desire for inspiration. You try to ignore the pearly white document, shut your eyes and hope that the letters you so need would magically fill the page. Open your eyes and yet again you are greeted by blankness.

You want to busy yourself with something else because you think you don’t have a story to tell; the frustration building. The mind closed to all imagery, the heart refusing to bleed the words, your soul not willing to share. A flicker of inspiration, an explosion of imagination is all you long for. Where would you go to find that inspiration?

This was my problem when I was asked to contribute to the travel issue of Studio_83. This shouldn’t have been a problem right? Unpacking all of the memories and encounters I had lived over 13 months. With so many places to choose from, I could just pick a location and let my mind soar through it, find it’s moment and release its load to share moments in time of a traveling woman. Letting you follow my footsteps across the planet.

Traveling in wonderment through history, creative splendor of man made structures, magical myths, buzzing metropolis, mother nature’s blessings, gifts of musical talents and of course the passion of life.

But where would I let my mind wonder to first? I’ve created a list of top places with emotionally charged memories.

A LITTLE TRIP DOWN MEMORY LANE

The streets of Salvadore, Brazil packed with gorgeous people enjoying the carnivale; a clebration of culture through music and dance over a week of non-stop everything. Chanting along to traditional and modern Brazilian songs of love and passion relaying desires, lust and motivation to get down and dirty. One such yearning ode:

Beija, Beija / Ta Calore Ta Calore / Mas eu nao quero so beija / Tambem quero amor.

This kiss, this kiss / It’s hot, It’s hot / but I don’t just wanna kiss / I also wanna make love



An Island 2hours off the coast of Brazil, Morre de Sao Paulo, where the hoards of tired bodies go to relax and rejuvenate after the escapism that is the week long party sensation of Salvadore’s Carnivale. Arriving at close to dusk and watching the paling orange sun set over the deep blue endless ocean. An island so small and simple that no cars roam the sand covered street; instead, wheelbarrow taxis are used to carry your luggage from the dock to your beach hotel. Nightly beach parties on one of the three beaches; partying under the stars and moon – paths lined with stalls selling virgin and alcohol cocktails made with fresh fruit which you pick from the wide selection of succulence. Nothing more delicious than the explosion on your taste buds of some strawberries, acai, banana and orange with a touch of Vodka over crushed iced while dancing around fires on the warm sand


Getting lost in childhood memories of the imaginative myth that was the Lochness monster in Scotland, while walking down Princess Street in Edinburgh with castles in the midst and kilted men, cleverly not allowing the wind to share too much skin. English coming out of the Scottish mouths sounding more foreign than hearing languages no longer spoken anywhere in the world.




Stepping into a vehicle of my granddad’s times; old, rackety and without a fuel gauge I introduce The Trabant. There are only a few of these Trabant’s left in existence today, five to specific. Revived by the only tour group licensed to tour the last living stronghold of communism. Poland’s gift from Joseph Stalin, a forgotten city called Nowa Huta stuck in 1949. This town was created in just ten years, and left there, as an independent from the rest of the Poland. A 60-year-old blast from the past staying true to the adage that some things never change, any vintage lover would be in kitsch heaven




Wherever one would go to retrieve that ever-illusive muse and no matter how we get there, we all have a tale to tell.

In every day life, on every street corner, every moment worth experiencing should be inspiration to explore. Sometimes, it is in these very moments that there are no words but the desire to live, not just the will to survive.


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