travel

The ultimate test of a compatible relationship is whether you can stand to travel together.

Prague Bathtub. Runner-Up in The Ritual of Winter Challenge.
On my first American Halloween in seven years, I attend a house party in the suburbs of New Orleans. I do not know the couple who has just moved in; I’ve been invited by mutual friends who have taken momentary pity on me, given my status as a newcomer with few friends and no life. It’s only been a few months since I moved back to the US after six years in Europe and socializing has been difficult. I am grateful to the hosts for my inclusion in the evening, but crossing the threshold of their four-bedroom ranch catapults me into a state of internal squirm that stays with me long after the weekend comes to a close.
By Emily Elizabeth10 months ago in Humans
The Secret Sesame Noodle Stall
The heart of our town is a fascinating maze of alleys. There’s one long main thoroughfare with countless side streets branching off. By day, it's a bustling market where local moms shop for fresh ingredients. But come evening, it transforms, shedding its skin to become a lively night market, packed with families, couples, and food lovers.
By Water&Well&Page10 months ago in Humans
Not Prepared To Fail
Introduction There are many ways to view winter and prepare for it. This challenge is another I know I might fail at. It seems the criteria and qualities that get you favoured by Vocal are ones I do not have. Having said that, my friends and audience know how excellent my work is.
By Mike Singleton 💜 Mikeydred 10 months ago in Humans
How Reckless Leadership Fuels Global Crisis
A Complaint on Trump: How Reckless Leadership Fuels Global Crisis Leadership is not merely about authority or popularity; it is about responsibility, restraint, and an understanding that decisions made at the top ripple across borders. As a global citizen, I submit this complaint not as an act of hatred, but as an act of concern. The actions and rhetoric associated with the Trump administration have contributed to instability, fear, and division—both within the United States and far beyond its borders.
By Wings of Time 10 months ago in Humans
Humid Humility
Humid Humility is a feeling of humbleness that is deep, overwhelming, and intense. I recently encountered this feeling not in a sermon or a poem, but on the side of Mount Stanley, which is the highest peak of the Rwenzori Mountains in Uganda. I had been planning the ascent for months. I'm an experienced hiker who has climbed big mountains like those in the Alps and Rockies. I had the best equipment, trained hard, and felt extremely confident. I knew the physical effort would be intense, but I was mentally prepared to simply will myself to the top, regardless of conditions. This, I realize now, was modesty, not true humility,
By Kelly Munala Brookes10 months ago in Humans
The Day I Realized I Wasn’t Behind in Life
“The Day I Realized I Wasn’t Behind in Life — I Was Just Growing at a Different Speed” For the longest time, I believed I was behind in life.
By abualyaanart10 months ago in Humans
Dear Holiday Drivers. Content Warning.
Oh, Lord, it's the holiday season. I don't have the highest opinion on other drivers to begin with, but these last few weeks of the year, it seems they all get so very much worse. I used to think it was just the high tension I felt around this time that made them worse, but I've actually been in a pretty decent headspace the last few weeks, so… yeah, it's definitely them.
By James Rigdon10 months ago in Humans
Major Midwest Winter Storm 2025: What Travelers need to know before the holidays"
The Storm That Came at the Worst Time A powerful winter storm is sweeping across the Midwest, arriving in a moment when millions of Americans are preparing to travel for the holidays. What started as light snow early in the week has grown into an enormous, dangerous storm system. The heavy snow and freezing rain, strong winds, and icy roads now suddenly bring travel across many states to a stop.
By iftikhar Ahmad10 months ago in Humans
Michael Savage on Why Christmas Inspires Gratitude
Christmas comes each year with warm lights, familiar songs, and a sense of quiet reflection that softens people. It is a season filled with memories, family traditions, and moments that remind us of what truly matters. Many people feel more appreciative during this time of year, even if life has been stressful or demanding. Writer Mike Savage, a New Canaan resident, often says that Christmas encourages people to slow down and notice the good around them. Gratitude becomes easier to feel because the season inspires connection, warmth, and generosity.
By Mike Savage New Canaan10 months ago in Humans
How a Small Act of Kindness Changed My World
How a Small Act of Kindness Changed My World BY: Khan I used to believe that life changed only through big events—graduations, promotions, heartbreaks, or miracles that arrived dramatically. But the truth is quieter than that. Sometimes, the entire direction of your life shifts because a stranger pauses for a moment and chooses kindness. My world changed because someone I barely knew decided to show me humanity when I needed it the most. It happened two years ago, during the loneliest phase of my life. I had recently moved to a new city for work—a job I wasn’t sure I even deserved, surrounded by people who looked smarter, louder, and more confident than me. I carried my insecurities like invisible luggage. Every day felt like a test I was failing quietly. Back then, I lived in a small, old apartment near the bus station. The neighborhood wasn’t dangerous, but it felt cold… and not because of the weather. People walked fast, eyes down, always busy, always distant. I tried to blend in, but the city swallowed me whole. I spoke to no one except my boss, who mostly complained, and the shopkeeper, who never looked up from his phone. One evening after another exhausting day, I missed my bus and had to walk home. My mind was full of the usual noise—You’re not enough. You won’t make it here. You’re alone. I remember passing a small park on the way, where kids usually played. That day, it was quiet except for a little girl struggling with the chain of her bicycle. She looked frustrated, her tiny hands trying to pull the chain back in place. I hesitated. I wasn’t used to helping strangers. What if she thought I was weird? What if her parents got angry? But something inside me whispered, Just help. So I stepped toward her. “Need help?” I asked gently. She looked up with tired eyes and nodded. Her knee was scraped; she must’ve fallen. I fixed her chain in less than a minute. When I was done, she smiled at me—small, shy, but honest. “Thank you,” she said. “Everyone walked past me. I thought nobody cared.” Something about those words hit me harder than I expected. Because I felt the same way. Like nobody cared. And then, before I could say anything, she added, “You’re really kind.” Kind. A word I hadn’t heard directed toward me in months. A word I hadn’t even felt like I deserved. But her voice made me feel seen, even just for a moment. She rode away, leaving me standing there with greasy fingers and a strange warmth in my chest. It was such a small thing—a bike chain, a thank-you, a child’s smile. But that moment lingered long after she disappeared down the road. That night, I slept better than I had in weeks. The next day, on my way to work, I bought two small packs of cookies and gave them to a homeless man who always sat near the bus stop. He looked surprised, like he wasn’t sure the gesture was real. When he said, “Bless you,” I felt that same warmth spread through me again. And suddenly, kindness became a habit. I started offering my seat in the bus, holding the elevator for people, complimenting strangers’ outfits, and thanking shopkeepers with real sincerity. They responded with smiles—simple, human, warm. Even my boss seemed less harsh when I greeted him with genuine respect instead of fear. The more kindness I offered, the more kindness returned to me. Not always from the same people, but from the world in general. My days felt lighter; the city felt less lonely. I even made a few friends at work, not by trying to impress them, but simply by caring. And then something unexpected happened. One rainy evening, I came home soaked after forgetting my umbrella at the office. A box sat outside my door. It had a small, hand-written note: “For the kind stranger. Thank you for helping my daughter that day.” Inside the box was a brand-new umbrella. I stared at it for a long time, overwhelmed. I hadn’t realized the girl’s mother had seen us. I hadn’t expected anything in return. But that simple gesture was like a mirror reflecting my own kindness back at me. It made me realize something profound: Kindness is circular. What you give eventually finds its way back—maybe in a different form, maybe from a different person, but always when you need it most. From that day onward, I stopped doubting whether I belonged in the city. I stopped believing I was alone. Because I realized something I should have known all along: The world isn’t cold. People just wait for someone else to go first. And once you start offering kindness—even in the smallest ways—you don’t just change someone else’s day. You change your own life. That little girl might never know it, but her simple “Thank you” was the spark that reshaped my world. It reminded me that humanity still exists, hidden in quiet corners, waiting for someone to notice. And now, whenever life feels heavy, I go back to that moment in the park—greasy hands, a shy smile, a small act of kindness—and remind myself: Sometimes, the smallest gesture can shift the biggest part of your soul.
By Khan 10 months ago in Humans
Is there a spin doctor in the house?
Kristi's dimpled smile and black curly hair had floated in my mind's eye for years. We were classmates and friends, but whenever I thought of her, my heart pitter-pattered, and I knew I had to ask her out soon. A month after I obtained my driver's license, I finally took my chance.
By Mack D. Ames10 months ago in Humans
A Stranger Who Saved My Life
A Stranger Who Saved My Life BY: Ubaid When Destiny Sends Help From the Most Unexpected Place I wasn’t supposed to be on that road. Not that evening, not in that storm, and certainly not in the state of mind I was in. But life has a strange way of pulling you into moments that change everything—moments that test your fear, your faith, and your will to survive. Mine began with a fight, a wrong turn, and a dead phone battery. It was supposed to be a simple drive. Clear my head. Breathe. Think. But emotions are reckless drivers, and I was letting mine steer. I remember gripping the steering wheel too tightly, my chest tight and my mind racing. The rain poured down in violent sheets, turning the windshield into a blurry watercolor. My phone buzzed with messages I didn’t want to read, didn’t want to deal with, didn’t want to feel. So I tossed it aside. A few minutes later, everything went black. Not metaphorically—literally. The car spun out of control on a hidden patch of oil, the tires losing grip on the soaked asphalt. In one terrifying heartbeat, the road disappeared beneath me. Metal screamed, glass shattered, and the world flipped sideways. When the car finally came to a stop, I was upside down, hanging from the seatbelt, stunned, bleeding, and trying to convince myself that this wasn’t real. But the pain in my ribs told me it was. I tried to unbuckle myself, but my fingers were shaking too hard. I tried shouting for help, but the storm swallowed my voice. My phone was dead. My car was dead. The road was empty. And I was trapped. Minutes passed. Maybe hours. Time twisted inside that overturned car. And then I heard it. A knock—soft, careful, human. A flashlight beam cut through the darkness, and a man’s voice followed. “Don’t move. I’m going to get you out.” He crawled through the shattered window with a calmness that didn’t match the chaos outside. He shielded my face from the broken glass, checked my pulse like a paramedic, and spoke in a voice steady enough to make me believe he had done this before. Maybe he had. Maybe he hadn’t. But in that moment, he was the only person in the world who showed up for me. “My name is Elias,” he said. “I was driving behind you. I saw everything.” I tried to speak, but he shook his head. “Save your strength.” With gentle but firm hands, he unbuckled the seatbelt, bracing my neck the way professionals do. He guided me out of the wreckage, step by shaking step, until we reached the dry patch beneath an old tree. He wrapped his jacket around my shoulders—warm, worn, and smelling faintly of cedar. “Ambulance is on the way,” he assured me. “I called them before I got to the car.” The storm raged around us, but somehow, sitting next to this stranger, I felt safe. While we waited, he talked—not in a forced, awkward way—but in the way someone does when they truly want to keep you conscious and alive. He asked about my family, my favorite songs, the hobbies I always talked about doing but never actually started. He even made me laugh, which felt impossible given the circumstances. I remember staring at him through blurry, teary eyes and thinking, Why would someone risk so much for a stranger? But he didn’t seem like the type to explain his kindness. He just did what needed to be done. When the ambulance finally arrived, he helped carry me onto the stretcher. He told the paramedics exactly what happened, every detail, every symptom. He held my hand until they pushed the stretcher inside. “Will I see you again?” I asked weakly. He paused, a small smile forming. “You already did,” he said. “And that’s enough.” Then he turned and disappeared into the rain. I never got his last name. Never got his phone number. Never saw him again. But he stayed with me—every day, in ways that even the closest people in my life never could. Recovery wasn’t easy. There were surgeries, physical therapy, sleepless nights, and silent battles recovering from wounds people couldn’t see. But each time I felt myself slipping into fear or despair, I remembered the stranger who walked into a storm to save me. Months later, when I was finally strong enough to revisit the crash site, I stood on that same stretch of road with a strange kind of gratitude. The sky was clear this time, the world peaceful. And I realized something that chilled and comforted me at once: Elias didn’t just save my life. He interrupted the path I was on—a path of exhaustion, self-neglect, and emotional numbness. He gave me a second chance I didn’t know I needed. He reminded me that sometimes, life sends you the right person at the exact moment you’re ready to give up. A stranger. A guardian. A miracle in human form. Every time I pass someone stranded on the roadside now, I stop. Every time someone needs help, I listen. Because I know exactly what it feels like to be saved by someone who didn’t owe you anything—but chose you anyway. And maybe one day, I’ll be someone’s “Elias.” Maybe I’ll be the stranger who saves a life. Until then, I carry his memory like a quiet light in the darkest places—a reminder that kindness, even from a stranger, can rewrite fate.
By Ubaid 10 months ago in Humans