I never wanted to write travel blogs. Traveling is something most aren’t blessed to be able to do and so I respect that. I cherish it. I like to think of it as something that is mine. I prefer to keep all my special stories surrounding my trips to myself. I can be selfish that way. But Sri Lanka is the exception. Sri Lanka has always been the exception. Allow me to share my one and my only travel story. I must warn you that it is quite long but I guess that’s what I get for trying to condense three years of touring the world into one entry.

A few years ago I was protesting the price of a passport by not buying one. “$110 for a document you require me to have?”  It was absurd, it was highway robbery, and it was completely all in my head. After unsuccessfully trying to recruit more individuals to join my protest, a good friend offered me this alternative way of thinking. They asked me, “Would you pay $11 a year to see the world?” My answer was of course yes, and they replied, “A passport is like the price of admission to tour the world.” A light bulb went off in my head and I completely agreed with their sound and reasonable logic. This began my wanderlust. Thus began me finding complete happiness.

Around the same time of my passport awakening, I watched a movie called “Eat, Pray, Love” starring Julia Roberts. I loved the main characters story. It moved me. It inspired me. So I ended up reading the book the movie was based off of and by the end I was convinced I needed to duplicate her story. I wanted to EAT in Italy, PRAY in Bali and find a love for something in India. Although in the book, she fell in love with a man in India, I kind of preferred the idea of leaving meeting the love of my life up to chance. I didn’t need to meet him in India or any country in particular. In fact, I wanted to be surprised by where I ended up meeting him.

So a few months later I buckled down and proceeded to plan out the first part of my journey. Roma. I arranged a deal for me to visit Rome, Italy and then fly to Athens, Greece before returning home to the States. I had just started dating someone at the time and he waited until the very last minute before telling me he couldn’t afford the trip. After failing to get someone else to accompany me last minute, I decided to do the trip all by myself. I know. Bold. I was 26. I had never traveled solo alone to a foreign country. I ended up ending things with that dude months after I returned from my trip but boy am I so grateful he opted out. Italy and Greece was where I was bitten by the “travel bug”. She’s a tiny insect. You don’t even see her coming. She’s not sneaky but she isn’t overt either. And I was enamored. So I ate in Italy. A lot. A pistachio cannoli from Don Nino is still the most delicious thing I’ve ever had the pleasure of placing in my mouth. I walked where Gladiators once roamed in the Coliseum. I sat in the Sistine Chapel in complete awe of Michelangelo’s brilliance. And then I championed climbing all over the Acropolis in Greece. I visited one of the world’s oldest Olympic stadium sites. I even let little tiny fishes gnaw at my feet. It’s a thing; I just rolled with the suggestion from a stranger while there. I left Europe forever changed, and deeply intrigued. Is all of Europe this beautiful, this poetic, this inspiring? The answer was yes, as I then traveled to London, Paris, Frankfort, Amsterdam, Madrid, and Barcelona.

Bali, Indonesia was a little bit trickier. It was a lot farther from New York than Europe. But I had become somewhat of a seasoned traveler in the two years since my Greece and Italy trip. I had traveled quite a bit in between and made sure to adequately prepare. I quickly learned the moment I stepped into the airport that I could never fully be ready for all that was Bali. For one, the humidity smacks you in the face. You will only partially recover. Coming from New York with all four seasons, I never got use to the intense heat and welcomed the sun going down every day. Not just for the breath taking sunsets but because the night offered a reprieve from the sweltering days.
In Bali, I prayed to my God but I spent a lot of time learning all about the Hindu religion and their many Gods. Like the protagonist in the book, I also met with a special Balinese healer. I know, westerners probably are skeptical of eastern medicine and special holistic doctors but my story is honest. I won’t even tell you the healers name so you won’t feel like I’m promoting anything.

When I met with him, I didn’t complain about my MS; I was diagnosed in 2011 after suffering from double vision. I don’t know why I didn’t bring it up; possibly because I was managing all the ailments and symptoms of the disease pretty well at the time. I also recognize on a daily basis that it could be worse. Like a lot worse. So instead of mentioning my debilitating disease, I told him about my problems sleeping. One of the main symptoms of my disease is fatigue, I am ALWAYS tired. I often had difficulty not only falling asleep but sleeping through the night. My neurologist had recommended melatonin. It does help me to fall asleep but I was still having issues staying asleep through the night. When I don’t get enough sleep, I suffer from severe migraines. It's the kind of headache where you’re nauseous and basically hate your brain for hating you. I wanted the viscous cycle to end. The healer gave me a thorough head and limb exam before announcing that I suffer from anxiety and that’s what is preventing me from falling asleep on my own and sleeping through the night. We sat in silence as he continued to massage my brain. I half expected him to announce I had MS but instead he then placed my hand on my chest and told me to listen to my heartbeat, concentrate on the rhythm and then start to consciously take deep breaths while focusing on the rhythm of my own heartbeat. It was simple. It was borderline genius because it worked. Now it doesn’t work every time but I’ve found it to be helpful most of the time. I was still skeptical of how feeling over my brain and limbs could lead him to such a conclusion however an entire year later, my neurologist confirmed that based on my night time symptoms I have mild anxiety. Bali did change me, I came back home more relaxed and calm. However, living in a city like NY with a job like mine, didn’t allow my Bali Zen to last too long though. That was fine, as I was taught a lifelong lesson. Focus on your own heartbeat; listen to your own song and just exhale.


I was ready to fall in love with something. India you’re up next! Or so I thought.

Next Week! check back as I continue my really long one and only travel story. I promise it gets better.