Kirkjufell, also known as “Church Mountain,” is famous for its unique shape. It is a beautifully shaped symmetric, free standing mountain on the northern coastlinef the Snaefell's Peninsula to the west of the Grundarfiord Bay. The creation of these mountains can be traced to the latest cold epoch of the ice age, when the glaciers and their rivers were seriously carving out the landscape.  The landscape of the northern part of the peninsula was gradually shaped during the last one million years. It is claimed to be the most photographed mountain in Iceland. It was one of the filming locations for Game of Thrones season 6 and 7, featuring as the "arrowhead mountain" that the Hound and the company north of the Wall see when capturing a wight..  🇮🇸🏞️

Dyrhólaey ("the hill island with the door hole") is a small promontory or peninsula located on the south coast of Iceland, about 2.5 hour drive from Reykjavik, not far from the beautiful little village Vík. It was formerly an island of volcanic origin. The volcano erupted about 100,000 years ago during the Pleistocene. The peninsula has an elevation of 120 metres (390 ft), and the Dyrhólaey Lighthouse sits at the top of the formation facing the sea. On top in the higher area of Dyrhólaey you will have a breathtaking view to all directions, including Mýrdalsjökull glacier and the endless black coastline.  🇮🇸🏞️

One of the most beautiful waterfalls in Iceland, with beautiful rainbows from last September! Wonder how it looks in winter now. This massive, two-tiered waterfall, one 36 ft (11 meters) high, and the other 69 ft (21 meters) high, into the 1.6-mile (2.5 m) long crevasse below. It was believed that catastrophic flood waves created this crevasse at the end of the Ice Age. 🇮🇸🏞️

Starting from Reykjavík, this is Thingvellir National Park, along the Golden Circle Route. First impression: Iceland is not all ice, it is actually quite green, especially during this late summer early autumn time. It has a much milder climate than Greenland - glaciers cover 11% of the land, compared to 80% of Greenland. Gulf Stream brings mild Atlantic air to the south and east coasts, where Iceland's first national park is, considering the nation's birthplace. The magical landscapes at Thingvellir are formed in the unique geographical setting of a rift valley in the divide between the North-American and Eurasian continental plates. 🇮🇸🏞️

When I noticed the illuminated gas light, I knew it was too late-I would never make it to the next big town, 22 miles away. Then, like a mirage, an old building with the words GAS/FOOD painted on its side appeared. Unfortunately, I quickly realized that there was definitely no gas in the pumps, and that there probably hadn't been for years. I looked around helplessly, allowing the worry train in my mind to run at full speed. What would become of a Black Jewish woman, alone and stranded in the boonies of a red state? I could feel tears pricking at the corners of my eyes, begging to fall. Suddenly, I heard the sound of laughter and followed it to a set of tall wooden doors. The echo of collective chortles, chuckles, and hee-has derailed my thoughts long enough for me to make a move, and I wrapped my hand around the cold metal moose-head door handle. The antlers made it so my fingers spread into an awkward claw. I pulled one of the doors open, and behind its heavy mass sat seven white strangers and a white bartender. My breath felt caught in my chest and butterflies fluttered up from my stomach into my throat, choking me. “Hi. Um, can y'all tell me where the gas station is?” My voice came out shaky and those damn tears were still fighting against me. A tall, thin man with shoulder-length grey hair, a thick mustache, and a familiar face stood, looked me up and down, and said, “You're shit outta luck in this town.” The tears finally won their battle and marched right out of my eyes and down my cheeks like hot soldiers pumped up with the emotions of victory and the price paid for it. "Don't worry, come on now. Don't you worry. Is your gas light on?” “Yes,” I replied, feeling foolish with my red eyes and puffy lips, “and I don't know how long but I've driven at least 20 miles since I noticed it.” A blonde woman, the only other woman in the bar besides the plump bartender looking on from behind the old wooden counter with an air of indifference about her, smiled at me. “Oh, I bet you could make it sweetie! I almost run out of gas all the time, but now I know exactly how far I can go once that light turns on!” She broke into a laugh that nobody joined. The tears incessantly fell from my face and were beginning to slide down my neck, which was already sticky with sweat. “I really don't think I can make it, I'm scared I'll get stuck.” The tall man still seemed to be analyzing me as he said, “I really think you'll be fine. Just go on ahead and try—" “I'll go get you some gas.” We all turned our heads toward the low, raspy voice. A man who had been sitting silent in the corner, wearing a white t-shirt and khaki pants stood and pulled his keys out of his pocket. "Be right back, y'all.” He pushed open the door and sunlight rushed into the room, brightening our faces. It slammed behind him with a thud and we were left with our jaws open. A younger man with a large body broke the silence. "So what the hell is a girl like you doing in lil' ol' Pringle, South Dakota?” I wiped the tears from my face and told them about my solo road trip. The large man seemed amused by my response: “Well honey, you sure ain't home in California anymore! You in Trump country now!” I laughed nervously. “Oh, hush Jimmy!” The blonde woman playfully slapped his arm. “What now, darlin'? I'm just tellin' her like it is!” And then to me, “You don't believe in this global warming bullshit now do ya?” The woman slapped him again, harder. “Don't listen to my husband, he's just giving you a hard time.” “It's okay,” I told them, "I wanted to travel this country because it's easy to come up with ideas about people who think differently than me, when I really don't know them at all.” The blonde woman liked that a lot and smiled at me, nodding her head in agreement. “So," I asked, "is this where Pringles chips were invented?” The people laughed and the air felt lighter. We carried on a cheerful conversation, ending abruptly when the door swung open to reveal the silhouette of the khaki man holding a gas can, and sunlight once again spilled over our faces. The blonde woman followed as I led him to my car. She was beautiful, with a face so warm; she could have been one of my grade school teachers. As the man poured gas into my tank, I dug through my backpack for a ten dollar bill I remembered tucking away earlier that morning. “Thank you so much, can I give you some money for all of this?” “No.” He tightened the gas cap and snapped the little door shut. “Alright, this should get you to town. Keep an eye on your tank now, ya hear?” “Yes sir, thank you, I will.” Pulling away, it struck me that I'd had a transformative experience. My gas light illuminated, and it brightened my perspective on humanity.

Although the initial fear about a new contagious coronavirus spread around the world in February 2020, it could not worry me at that time. I was preparing to start a new semester as an exchange graduate student in South Korea. I was over the moon, because I had dreamed of studying and traveling abroad all my life, and with just one step, the biggest dream would come true. As soon as the plane landed, we realised that we were in a different world. Everyone complied with the quarantine regulations, we arrived on campus and settled into the dormitory. However, the quarantine was strict, small trips around campus and the city were allowed for exchange students. Everything was great until I had a terrible accident with my bike on campus in the middle of April. It was an evening when I was bringing dinner for me and my roommates from a restaurant near our campus. I was not a professional bike rider, I was just riding at low speed because I lacked confidence. I was in a hurry because we had to go to Korean language class at 7 p.m., so I increased my speed. There was only one hill left and I was supposed to reach the dorm, but suddenly someone appeared on my way down the hill and I lost my balance and crashed to him. When I regained consciousness, I did not realize what had happened or how much time had passed. I was lying under my bike and about 2 meters away from me an old man was screaming in pain. Several students who were passing by immediately came to help and called the ambulance and the police. The old man sat there holding his leg and moaning in pain. Soon the ambulance and police arrived, they took the old man out of the car to give him first aid, and I found that one of the doctors spoke English, and I begged him to explain that I was sorry. I do not know if it was because of anger or pain, but he did not answer. The police began to question me. At that moment, one of the doctors told me that my hand was injured and that I needed first aid. Only then I felt a severe pain in the wrist of my right hand and I could not move my palm. The policemen looked at me with unusual suspicion and said they would go to our dormitory to check my documents. After that, they said they would contact me, then another ambulance arrived and took me to the hospital. As I sat in the ambulance, I still could not understand what had happened, I felt like a criminal. When the doctor who examined the X-ray results at the hospital said that my wrist bone was broken, that it needed to be operated on quickly, and that the surgery would cost $4,500-5,000, it all seemed was over. I could barely control myself , it was a huge amount in Uzbekistan currency, and it was obvious that my parents could not send me that much money. My friends got me out of the hospital and we came back to dorm and I asked them not to tell my family. I was facing a very difficult problem: my parents have always believed in me, but now if they find out about this incident, they may be horrified. Besides, they would have to borrow a large sum to send money for the operation. That night I could not sleep, it was the longest and hardest night of my life. The unbearable pain in my hand, as well as the thought that the achievements I had made so far were ruined because of this mistake and that no one would trust me anymore, gave me no peace. I fantasized about all the ways to make money, because my decision was made up, no matter what, I will not tell my family members! We consulted all day with my friends to find a solution, but we did not come up with a definite idea. Desperate, tired, and racked with pain, I returned to the dorm. My phone connected to the wifi, I checked the messages from Telegram, and there was a reply message from the insurance company. I immediately replied to the message and described the whole process. When I heard from him that my request could be accepted, all my pain was washed away with tears. Next day, I was told that I had to go to Chosun National University Hospital, where they would operate on my hand and all the costs would be covered by the company. After 2 days from surgery I left the hospital, successfully finished the semester with excellent grades and returned to Uzbekistan in July. By the way, the old man I had injured was a good person and did not sue me in any way, as I was told by the policeman who came at the end of the semester to close the case. At that moment I realized that I was a really lucky girl: otherwise I or an old man would have been seriously injured, he would have sued for damages, the insurance company would not have covered the expenses, and I would have lost the trust of my family and would have experienced a series of similar disappointments. But fortunately, everything turned out well, leaving only a scar on my right hand after the surgery.

I've always been a planner. Some might even say over-planner. In fact, my mom recently reminded me of when I was in high school and just starting to consider colleges. I was near a breakdown, insisting that I had to decide my future major in college and what career I could get from it, before I could even consider looking at schools. So my exasperated, yet somehow patient mom sat down with me and did an evening of research on majors and career paths. We even looked at job postings for entry-level jobs I could apply to after graduation. “I don't know how to do some of these things mom. I can't do this!” I had claimed in true drama queen style. My mom probably wanted to laugh or strangle me, but she instead explained, “Sweetie, you have six more years of school. You'll learn those things.” So, with those words, I chose my focus and my career that night; English major aiming to be an editor. Since then, things have changed a lot. I haven't exactly followed the path my 16-year-old self decided on. I did not end up becoming an editor at a publishing house, although I did edit all of my college roommate's essays. The one thing that hasn't changed though, is that any large decision I have ever made was spent in a similar way; sitting down and doing hours of research to plan out the next step. However, a worldwide pandemic has a way of completely throwing us off the path we were walking down. This past year has been full of plan-ruining and re-making. This year I moved across the world. Moving (of course) took lots of planning, but everything I had planned nearly vanished when we were suddenly stuck in quarantine. I'd had everything laid out and researched- but none of that mattered anymore. Nothing was secure. All plans became like ungraspable smoke, dissipating into the air, causing hazy confusion. At first I was convinced everything I had worked for was completely ruined. I wouldn't be able to go, I'd be stuck at home, still living with my parents. None of this was part of my plan. My options were simple; remain lost or start peering through all the smoke and find new plans. I chose the second option. I was still going to move, I just had to leave the US a month later than I had thought. I was still going to work, just in a different city than I had hoped. I was still going to move into my first apartment alone, just without my mom helping me settle in. I embraced the stress that I was feeling and I gave my two weeks notice at my then-job. My coworkers thought I was crazy. Moving in the middle of a pandemic— there wasn't even a vaccine yet! I reassured them I would be fine, even though I wasn't 100% convinced of that myself. All I was sure of was that I couldn't let this opportunity go. I booked my flight only a week before leaving. Soon after I landed, I started my job as an assistant English teacher, with a work contract only from October until June. I had wanted to travel around Europe, but the pandemic made it impossible to even leave the community where I was living. Instead, I fell in love with the city where I was stuck in for the next few months. I became an expert at using every type of public transportation. I found the best Indian food restaurant for nights out with my girlfriend. I even adopted a cat, and decided to foster a pair of kittens. My life was in full swing, until the end of the school year. The end of my contract. Now here, I find myself once again sinking into the awful unknown of my next step… well for the next four months, anyways. I have four months of non-concrete work and this pandemic is still happening. I haven't been without a solid reliable job since I started college. How am I going to survive? My worries have started surrounding me and spinning all over, through my mind, and out of my mouth. My girlfriend tells me I'm spiraling as I start crying to her about the dreaded unknown, the risks, the lack of planning for this summer. I tell her that I'm going to end up homeless on the street with my three cats in a box. She starts laughing. I can't help but join in. Maybe I am spiraling, just a bit. The unknown has always been something uncomfortable for me. Yet here I am living on the sunny Mediterranean coast in a country known for saving worries for “mañana”. Despite teaching some private classes and having endless support from my family, a part of me thinks it won't be enough. However the other part of me has earplugs in and is encouraging me to just jump, because this time I can't let the unplanned hold me back from enjoying my life. I can't let the unknown keep me awake at night worrying. Right now, life in this pandemic is all smoke. Every day is hazy, because it's all still unknown. We can't change this, but we can breathe it in. Our lives can't always be confined within our plans, or our calendars. That's something this pandemic keeps teaching me.

Walking hand in hand, I am anxious. It is pitch black and our toes sink into the wet sand like shells waiting to be found by screaming toddlers. With each step, our feet sink a bit deeper. “Let's see how far we can go,” I whisper devilishly to him. “No thanks, we're already pretty far out,” he replies. James and I had never been to Hilton Head, SC before but so many people raved about it, including a married couple we know, —which after coming back from vacation we find out they also took their honeymoon at the exact same hotel, the Sonesta Resort. It's so dark, I can barely make out his facial expression, but the tone in his voice signifies that he is equally hesitant. The moonlight beams quietly on his face and I can tell he is smirking. Just three hours ago before the sun had set, the tide was high enough for us not to be in the middle of the ocean. Three hours ago, I was laying on a yellow and white striped towel enjoying the sights of my sexy new husband. We are now standing at a “good enough spot”. We are at a place where if we look behind us, we can still see the row of resorts and residential homes lined up against the shore like a picturesque night in a magazine. “Did the ocean just disappear? When is it coming back? Do you think it just drops from sand into deep water, like you're walking and then all of a sudden you're drowning?” I hurl questions at him, but he doesn't move. I pull away quickly, dropping his hand back by his side. Taunting him, I grab my colorful paisley skirt and hike it up to my thighs and begin to walk backwards. The question is, has anyone ever truly seen what is beyond the abyss? If the answer is no, then we have accomplished as much of nothing as the couple a few feet away who are also walking slowly into the loud darkness. Waves. All we can hear is waves. Nothing. All we can see is nothing. As I try to lure James into the black hole of greatness, he gives up before we can even reach what I would consider halfway to the drop of death. “Get back here! Babe it's too far,” he yells. I of course ignore him knowing that I am way too chicken to go all the way out there, but I am too prideful to admit this aloud. I take a few more steps in that manner before running towards the darkness at full speed. I am only about twenty feet from him, but I feel so much further away. Partly, because I still have not found the ocean. We are more connected now than ever, and I feel his body, mind, and soul pleading for me to return to him. “I'm not playing,” he reminds me. His reluctance turns into frustration. Not with the water but with me, or maybe both. In front of us is the unknown, behind us awaits the familiar. “Live life on the edge, come here!” I urge. I cannot make out his expressions this time, but I know that he is fed up with my shenanigans. Typically, I am afraid of the unknown. Yet being here in this moment of pure oblivion, I am sure that if death awaits, I would rather no other patron than my wonderful new husband to accompany me into the depths of the earth. How befitting, a tragic honeymoon death. I have always admired Shakespeare and the tragic love story of Romeo and Juliet. Now, here we are facing our own version, or at least I like to think so but from James' standpoint, we won't even get close. Growing tired of waiting for my husband to rescue me from my fateful disaster, I slowly walk back towards the shore. When I get close to him, he pulls me in for a deep kiss. I smell his cologne wafting from his clothes. That and the scent of Gain laundry detergent. The waft sends me into a frenzy of desire, but my curiosity cuts through the passion like a samurai sword. Unexpected. Precise. Quick. “Do you believe in Magic?” I ask. Staring at me, he laughs, then replies, “No”. Neither do I but in this moment, I bask in the uncertainty. Our walk back to the resort is long and quiet. The two of us contemplating whether what we saw, or didn't see, is real. In the morning, as we check out of the resort, we hear a group chattering about something “that happens often”. One of the men says, “Yes, did you get a chance to see it? The tide was real low last night”. James and I look at one another and laugh through the embarrassment. IT WAS THE LOW TIDE. That makes sense. Before we head out, I decide to grab a souvenir from the gift shop. I grab a silver starfish magnet, it's a little heavy in my hand. It reminds me of our feet trapped under the wet sand and I know this is the perfect item to take back home, a bit of magic. On our car ride back to Charlotte, I wonder if our friends noticed the disappearing waters also. Despite what we learned, we will spend the next few months convincing people that they need to visit the “magical place where the water hides from the moon," to experience the moment where you are trapped between worlds that collide beyond the darkness, the place where trepidation meets excitement.

Lost Youth Sticky air hangs over the city like an iron curtain. Immersed in their daily juggle amidst the world of bedlam and racket, in a silent rush, passers-by push through packed backstreets shrouded in clouds of exhaust gases that buses, cars and tuk-tuks mercilessly breathe. Lungs are short of breath, mouths are full of dust, and nostrils instantly absorb all-encompassing aromas, notes of incense and intrusive stench. The heat was sweltering, the sun scorching. Dressed in funny Ali Baba pants and a little top, she approached me doing somersaults and back flips, landing either on her hands or feet. So impressive. So disarming. The girl held out her open hand and called: Chocolate! Pen! Rupee! Nearby, on the ground, sat a small boy who entertained passers-by playing the flute and tambourine. In front of him, he had put his little, worn-out beanie to collect the alms. Not far from the siblings, leaned up against a filthy wall sprayed with flashy graffiti, sat their young mother. Her face expressed hopelessness. Her eyes were pale and empty, just like the boy's hat. People were passing by, and yet – nobody cared. And she did not notice anyone as if she had got used to the state of numbness that fate had made for her. Dirty, tired, forgotten. Unable to provide. Unable to feel. India – a rich country of poor people in which magic and bluntness intertwine. A motherland of abandoned mothers. A land of those living lifeless lives.

.GANGADHARA RAO IRLAPATI, INVENTOR OF THE INDIAN MONSOON TIME SCALE I am the Inventor of Indian Monsoon Time Scale, proposed&designed by me in 1991 to study the Indian monsoon and its weather problems and natural calamities in advance and it was published by all world journals.But our India was not recognize me. Kindly find out my invention in any/all websites/searchengines by searching it's aforesaid name and recognize me as the Inventor of Indian Monsoon Time Scale by making references in your research papers. Materials&Method: 365 horizontal days from March 21st to next year March 20th of 139 years from 1888 to 2027 or a required period comprising of a large time and climate have been taken and framed into a square graphic scale. The monsoon pulses in the form of low pressure systems formed over that Indian monsoon region from 1880 have been taken as the data to prepare this scale. Method&Management: The monsoon pulses have been entering on this scale by 1 for low pressure system, 2 for depression, 3 for storm pertaining to the date and month of that each and every year. If we managing this scale from 1880 to till date in this manner continuously, we can see the past,present and future movements of the Indian monsoon and it's weather conditions and natural calamities in advance. Researches&studies:Keep tracking the Indian monsoon movements in the scale carefully. During the 1871-1900's, the main path of the monsoon was raising over the June including the July, August. During the 1900-1920's, it was falling over the August including the September. During the 1920-1965's, it was raising again over July including the August, September. During the 1965-2004's, it was falling over the September. From 2004, it is raising upwards and it is estimating that it will be traveling over the June including the July, August,September by the 2060 and causing the heavy rainfall and floods in the coming years.. Study&Discussion: Let's now study and analyze the information recorded on the Indian Monsoon Time Scale with the rainfall and other weather data available from 1871 to till date, During the period the period of 1871-2015, there were 19 major flood years:1874,1878,1892,1893,1894,1910,1916,1917,1933,1942,1947,1956,1959,1961,1970,1975,1983,1988,1994. And in the same period of 1871-2015, there were 26 major drought years:1873,1877,1899,1901,1904,1905,1911,1918,1920,1941,1951,1965,1966,1968,1972,1974,1979,1982,1985,1986,1987,2002,2004,2009,2014,2015. Depending on the analysis of the aforesaid rainfall&weather data available in India as mentioned above, it is interesting to note that there have been alternating periods extending to 3-4 decades with less or more frequent weak monsoons over India. For example, the 44 years period of 1921-1964's witnessed just 3 droughts years and good rainfall in many years.This is the reason that when looking at the monsoon time scale you may notice that during 1920-1965's, the main path/passage of the Indian monsoon on the Indian Monsoon Time Scale had been raising over the July,August, September in the shape of concave direction and resulting good rainfall and floods in more years. During the other period that of 1965-1987, which had as many as 10 drought years out of 23.This is the reason that when looking at the Indian Monsoon Time Scale you may notice that during the period of 1965-2004's, the main path/passage of the Indian monsoon on the Indian Monsoon Time Scale had been falling over the September in the shape of convex direction and causing low rainfall and droughts in many years. Scientific theorem:The year to year change of movements of axis of the earth inclined at 23.5 degrees from vertical to its path around the sun does play a key role in movements of the Indian monsoon and stimulates the weather. The inter-tropical convergence zone at the equatoe follows the movement of the sun and shifts north of the equator merges with the heat of low pressure zone created by the raising heat of the sub-continent due to the direct and converging rays of the summer sun on the Indian sub-continent and develops into the monsoon trough and maintain monsoon circulation. Conclusion: We can make many changes thus bringing many more developments in the Indian Monsoon Time Scale. GANGADHARA RAO IRLAPATI Email me: girlapati@aol.com WhatsApp me: 91 6305571833

My heart was pumping in my chest. I was on flight 562 to Miami from San Fransisco. I watched as I counted down the minutes on the clock in front of me. Once we landed I would only have a 40-minute layover. And if that wasn't hard enough, the gate I had to get to was on the other side of the Miami airport. My mom sat next to me wringing her hands. She was worried. The entire flight here she had been worried. She said that when we were on the flight to Brazilia that is when she would stop worrying. The flight attendant came over the intercom, "I would like to inform everyone to please make their way back to their seats, we will be landing shortly. I let out a deep breath. My mom was dressed in a pair of jeans and a turtleneck. Her usual. I was wearing a pair of sweatpants, a t-shirt, a sweatshirt, and a pair of flip-flops. Once again my mom went over the plan with me, clicking onto the map of the airport on the mini TV in front of her. "So, here is our gate." Pointing to one end of the airport. "And here is where we are," she said, pointing to the opposite end. "We need to exit and re-enter security. Do you see how it is in a U shape? We need to be fast. So, we're not going to walk, we are going to run." She looked down at my feet. "You might want to take off those flip-flops," she said. I considered it but then I thought about how dirty the airport ground was. "Let me try," I told her. I didn't want to be exposed to all of those germs until I had to. "We are beginning to descend." the flight attendant said. And my mom sighed and sat back in her seat. 3, 2, 1, the plane rumbled like an awakened beast before settling back down as it zoomed across the tarmac. We had landed. We rolled into gate 1, and I not so patiently counted the minutes that passed by until we were able to get off the plane. 6, 7, 8, the two people in front of us got up and left, leaving us next. I looked at my mom and she looked at me and then we both took off running through the plane, out the door, and into the airport. Know we were just racing against the clock. With 32 minutes to get to the gate. People were staring at us like we didn't have our heads on, but I didn't care. The reason it was so pressing to make this flight was that 1, we would have to stay in Miami for 3 more days if we didn't and 2, my donar dad lived in Brazil, and I only got to see him 2 weeks out of the year. He amazing dad and spending any less time with him than I can is torture. We raced through the corridor, after corridor, turn after turn until finally, we reached security. We had 9 minutes left to get to the gate. My mom ran up to the security guard. "Is there any way we can get to the front of the line? My plane leaves in 9 minutes." she pleaded. The security guard looked at both of us and then sighed, "you can ask the people in front but otherwise, it is out of my hands." he said. "Okay, thanks." We weaved our way to the front of the line where a man was hauling his suitcase onto the black belt, that rolled its way into the scanning machine. "Sir," my mother asked tapping him on the shoulder. "Sir, my flight leaves in 9 minutes is there any way my and my daughter could go in front f you?" He looked at us, smiled, and then said, "Of course" then he turned to what I assumed was the rest of his group. "Hey guys, these two people have 9 minutes to get on their flight how about we all help them out?" Everyone nodded. And began to take their stuff off of the security belt, the man did the same. And instead, they started to help us put our things on the security belt. After thanking the man, we got through security and were racing down the hall when suddenly my mother stopped. What was she doing? We only had three minutes to get to the gate. "We forgot our pillow," she said. Without saying anything I quickly raced back to the security belt and grabbed it. I saw something that looked like our backpack, but no. Mom had it with us. She wouldn't leave something like that behind. So I whipped back around and ran back to where my mom was standing, handing the pillow to her. We both took off charging down the halls towards the gate. We were in terminal J and were almost there when we heard, "Last call for White. Last call for white." And then again, but this time in Portuguese! "Ultima chamada para White. Ultima chamada para White." My mom turned to face me, "Are you going to be okay if I run ahead?" I just nodded, I couldn't say anything, I was too out of breath. So she ran down the hall, and without caring what other people thought started yelling in Portuguese, "We're here! We're here!" We finally made it to the gate, out of breath and sweating, and got onto the plane. That's when my mom realized her backpack was missing. She asked them if she could go back to get it but they said no. Even though the rubber bands for my braces were in there. The flight attendant came and asked, "so... are you going to Brazil?" My mom looked at me and said, "Yes, we are going to Brazil."

Between our phones, tablets, laptops, and televisions, some form of screen time is there which is happening almost 24/7. But we are unable to see that. This is the reason why it has become more imperative than ever for us to unplug and head out into the great outdoors surrounding us. Spending time outside, whether you are working in the garden or hiking at a nearby park is good for the soul. And now more than anything, it is necessary for all of us to take some time out for self-care atleast. Getting out into nature doesn't have to be a big event. Go out for a jog or a brisk walk at a scenic park around the greenery (If possible without your phone. Well, the above picture was clicked by me in a phone itself. But still the usage should be reduced. You know what I mean.)—and take in the sights and sounds of your surroundings. Once you immerse yourself completely in the beauty of nature, you can never be disappointed. Nature has always been the first inspiration for artists and creators around the world. This is evidenced by the vast number of works of art, poetry and music that have attracted people around the world, and which revolve around the beauty and charm of nature.🍃❤ Sylvia Plath once said, "I felt my lungs inflate with the onrush of scenery—air, mountains, trees, people. I thought, 'This is what it is to be happy.' " *TMI: This picture was taken at the renowned Pandu Pokhar in Rajgir, Bihar (India).*

HI! MY NAME IS RACHEL. IT WAS SIMPLE, I DREAMED OF TRAVELLING THE WORLD. I TOOKOFF TO SEE THE WORLD, EXPLORING THE ESSENCE OF TRAVEL BY EMBRACING THE UNKNOWN AND THEPEOPLE THAT COME ALONG WITH IT. THE FIRST DAY OF TRAVELLING WAS REALLY A DREAM COMETRUE, LIKE A FAIRYTALE TALK. THAT PLACE WAS, PARIS FRANCE, EIFFEL TOWER. A TIME OF MY LIFETHAT NOBODY CAN STEAL IT FROM ME. A MEMORIES THAT WILL LAST FOREVER.I STAYED FOR 5 DAYS, AND GUESS WHAT? AFTER ARRIVAL TO PARIS AIRPORT I AM SO EXCITED ANDGIGGLY WANTS TO ROOM AROUND THE AREA, NO TIME PASSES. RIDE BUS, EAT, WALK AND TRIED TOFIGURE OUT THE AREA. ATE AT NOTRE DAME DE CHARTRES SAINT MICHAEL STATION. WALKING ANDFINDING FOOD TO GRAB ON. AND, FINALLY TRIED TO TASTED THIS VIETNAMESE CUISINE. EAT ANUNIOUN SOUP, MUSSEL, AND CARAMEL CUSTARD AKA KNOWN AS SIMPLE LECHE PLAN. AROUND THESTREET THERE WAS A RAMDOM BOYS WHO GIVES ROSES, AND I GOT ONE. WHOOHHOO!! A PARISWITH LOVE, FULL OF LOVE. LATE NIGHT NEVER KNEW THAT THE TRAIN ONLY OPERATES AT 10PM.LESSONS LEARN “ NEVER GO HOME LATE WHEN YOUR IN PARIS, OR ELSE PENNY MONEY WILL LOSTFROM YOU”.ANOTHER DAY, MORNING BREAKFAST INTO A SMALL CAFETERIA FOUND THIS DELICIUOSSANDWICH AND SURPRISED ME WITH A VERY SMALL SIZE, CUTE CUP OF ESSPRESSO COFFE LOCATED ATSEINNE. A RIVER OF LOVE. WALK.. WALK.. WALK.. NEXT SPOT IN OPERA MUSEUM, FIRST TIMEEXPERIENCE WHICH TOOK 1 HOUR SPENDING TIME OF WALKING, AND LISTENING TO THE HISTORY ANDITS BEAUTIFUL STATUES, PAINTINGS, AND MOST ESPECIALLY THE STORY OF THE OPERA HOUSE, INPALAIS GARNIER. WENT TO JARDIN DE TUILLERIES, PALACE DE CONCORDE ATE MACAROONS, TASTEDALL THE FLAVORS AND THAT AWFUL TASTE “ECCCH” THAT WAS THE EXCITING PART OF EXPERIENCE.FOOD, BUT! I LOVED IT. NEVER ENDING SIGHT SEEING, AND EXPLORING. SAW THIS CHOCOLATEMUSUEM, IVE'D TASTED DIFFERENT CHOCOLATE AND SAW COCOA TREE AND FRUIT. TASTED THIS DARKCHOCOLATE WITH A TWIST OF CHILI, AND ROUCO. WOOOHH!! IT'S WAS THE MOST TERRIBLE TASTEIVE'D EVER TASTED, AND WE EVEN CREATED A VIDEO LIKE ENDORSEMENT ABOUT THAT WHICH ISTELLING OR MAKING FACE LOOKS DELICIOUS BUT THE TRUTH IS… NOT! IT WAS A FUNNY DAY. WALKINGCONTINUOSLY TO WAX MUSUEM FOUND A VERY BEAUTIFUL SHOW USING MIRROR, VERY BEAUTIFULAND AMAZING. GOING FURTHER, NIGHT TOUR IN EIFFEL TOWER. WENT TO HAD A CRUISE RIDE ATSIENNE RIVER, IT WAS SO FANTASTIC. EVERY SINGLE OF THE DAY IT WAS A NICE TRIP AND BEYONDEXPLORING THERES A STORY TO BE UNTOLD . IN THIS TIME WE WENT TO THE EIFFEL TOWER ON TOP.AND, I WAS SO FASCINATED AND NEVER BOTHER ANYONE AROUND JUST TO GO AND TOOK MANYPHOTOS AND MEMORIES, THEN SUDDENLY I REALIZED WHERE ARE MY COMPANIONS? JOALA!! THEREGONE, AND IM LOST IN PARIS. I FELT LOST, AND EMPTY. COULDN'T FIND ANY TELEPHONE BOOTHAROUND THE AREA, AND IT WAS A VERY AWFUL EXPERIENCE. SO, I WENT BACK TO THE MAINENTRANCE OF EIFFEL TOWER AND WAITED FOR THEM PATIENLTY TO COME OUT. WITH A VERY COLDAND FOGGY WINTER SEASON, STANDING AND UNKNOWN TO BE FOUND. BUT! GUESS WHAT … WEMET. LUCKILY WE MET!!IT WAS BECOME A GREATEST ADVENTURE OF MY LIFE TO PLAY, AND TO HAVE FUN. TO EXPERIENECEEVERYTHING WE COULD AND LIFE LONG MEMORIES. EVERYDAY TURNS OUT TO BE A SURPRISINGVENTURE. TO INSPIRED TO LEAVE YOUR COMFORT ZONE AND FEEL EMPOWERED TO TAKE A TRIP ONYOUR OWN. THE KEYS OF TRAVELLING: WALK, OBSERVE AND REFLECT. PARIS DID TEACH ME HOW TO LOVE. BUT IT TAUGHT ME HOW TO LOVE MYSELF, IT TAUGHT ME THAT I CAN LIVE ALONE OUT OFCHOICE, NOT BECAUSE NO ONE PICKED ME . IT TAUGHT ME WHO I AM. A PLACE WHERE YOU FEEL LOVEAND FELT HOW TO BE LOVED. THAT'S WHY THE GREAT BEST TRIPS, ARE LIKE LOVE STORIES, THAT NEVER REALLY END.❤️❤️❤️