Travel Blog

I Jumped Off the Auckland Bridge and Actually Survived!

If there was ever a time that required 100% of your attention, it would have to be the moment leading up to your first bungy jump. During these final few minutes you will likely receive key instructions – pull here, tug there, don’t cry – from certified professionals who you suspect have dealt with their fair share of crybabies. But as I watch bungy operator Devin double-check all the buckles and snaps on my harness, I find that his reassurances and expert tips are easily drowned out by the inner voice in my head, which at the moment is yelling “Don’t jump!” at the top of her lungs.

Take Me Out To The Ball Game!

I often say I’m a sports fan through osmosis. Growing up with two older brothers and now living with an addict of all things sports-related, it was inevitable that I would come to know the names of the entire Blue Jays lineup and pump my fist in the air after every Maple Leafs goal. Household names like Nick Kypreos, Jay Onrait and Leo Rautins are all part of my day-to-day vernacular, thanks to hours upon hours of watching highlight reels.

When Gators (Don’t) Attack!

I used to think death by shark attack was the worst way to go – until I came face to face with a 12-foot gator in the Florida Everglades. It looked right at me with black, muddy eyes, its snout submerged in water with just its scaly back visible above the horizon. A mere six feet away, I cowered within the confines of the air boat, which surprisingly offered no protective barrier (or weapons for that matter). But Captain Charles, our soft-spoken guide at Sawgrass Recreation Park, assured me that these particular creatures were pretty harmless. In fact, in his 13 years as captain he’s encountered only one grumpy gator who felt threatened enough to attack his boat.

Fort Lauderdale: Retirement Village No More

‘I am but a pebble in a sea of fossils,’ I think to myself while standing in line to board a flight to Fort Lauderdale. All around me are seasoned vacationers, 65 years and over with leathery tans that I’m sure took all 65 years to produce. Many are sporting fanny packs, a few came already dressed in beach wear, while almost all have snowy white hair peeking out from beneath straw hats and baseball caps. With my long, black curls, they all regard me with growing curiosity, grinning in such a way that suggests an invitation to conga.

I Left My Heart In Cartagena

These days it seems like everything’s a UNESCO World Heritage Site. That castle, this village, the fire hydrant at the end of the road, over 900 sites have found their way onto the list, each revered for its cultural or physical significance. But with the market being so saturated now, does the honour even mean anything anymore? Can something still be special in a sea of other special somethings?