Heritage

  • Just north of Oviedo, there is a quaint town where just off the beaten path of the dusty Spanish streets is a hidden gem worth the trip.  I have marveled at the great Sagrada Familia in the diverse city of Barcelona. I have walked with the peacocks in the Alcazar of Seville. I have even seen the...

  • A window of opportunity opened last year, and through it I had the chance to travel to Cuba with my family, on a journey to trace my father’s heritage. He and his family fled during the revolution, each child with a 100 dollar bill in his shoe, since Castro’s government wouldn’t allow them to bring...

  • A full expanse of mountainous Korean land stretched out before us with little hill-like graves embodying the terraced plot of land. Pine trees swayed in the wind as the setting sun’s rays warmed their thin needle-like leaves before the cool evening to come. A whiff of manure delivered by the...

    Tags: Asia, Heritage
  • The dust motes. They floated with the ambience of rolling hills. A suspended colloid, only visible with a shaft of early morning sunlight piercing through the window of the electric bus, making those dust motes shiver and dance. At eighty-six years old, my grandfather watched the new skyscrapers in...

  • All around the world, people define the word “home” differently. No matter the language it is pronounced in, every person has their own deeper, more individualistic perspective on the concept of a home. Some will say that it is a concrete place, whereas others might describe it as a combination of...

  • On television, I would always see the perfect American family, a happily married couple with a few children. You don’t usually think of just a mother and daughter but that’s what my family was. I was too young to even notice how different my family was until I grew into a preteen, where if you had...

    Tags: Asia, Heritage
  • I dodge a white projectile headed for my shoulder. Darn birds-they always try and ruin whatever you’re wearing. I slip on my chappals and sprint to the car bobbing and weaving as I must in order to preserve this clothing. I slam the door and mutter a quick prayer and bid my grandparents goodbye....

  • We are all broken people living in a world that is filled with hopelessness, sorrow and hate. At times we ask ourselves if there is still humanity and love in this planet that we call home. However, there is something about traveling that seems to remind us that even “with all its sham, drudgery...

  • As I plopped a lemonade-flavored, electrolyte hydrating tablet into my plastic water bottle, I could feel Sylvia’s big eyes watching my every move. With our rear-ends simultaneously bouncing up and down as our rickety bus maneuvered its way through the saturated streets of Kampala, my Ugandan...

  • In the 1960s, a book called My Side of the Mountain inspired a young man’s dream to live in the wilderness and train raptors (eagles, hawks, falcons, and owls). As a young man he moved to Roxbury, a small farming town in the heart of New York’s Catskill Mountains, and began building his own home...

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