July 2017

We decided to take a side trip to Istanbul. For some, it was a chance to visit a country that might not always be open to tourists. For me, I was curious about a culture where women are viewed so differently from men.   Arriving in Istanbul, we immediately felt the difference. Uniformed officers with machine guns guarded the entrances and exits of the airport. Crowds of people waited to greet family, friends and visitors.   Walking through the airport, I got my first glimpse of women in full hijabs. Groups of women with only eyes peering out at the world as they gathered children and hurried on their way. Men handled the luggage and women handled the children – maybe things weren’t so different here?   We arrived at our hotel and immediately headed out to explore the Grand Bazaar. I was conscious of what I wore, packing flowy linen pants and shirts that covered my shoulders. Thinking about what to wear is not something I normally do, especially traveling on Remote Year where my decision is based on what’s clean.   As we walked along in our group, one guy naturally led the way and the other guy brought up the rear, keeping us girls in the middle. It wasn’t something we discussed but something that just happened.   The Grand Bazaar is a sensory overload. People and noises and smells; lamps and t-shirts stacked up and hanging from the ceiling; jewelry and art for sale along a maze of windy, narrow aisles.   But what grabbed me first were the colors – I was instantly drawn to a deep turquoise and knew I had to bring something home. (And so began my negotiating with a vendor who invited me to first sit, take a cup of hot apple tea and talk. A fun but lengthy process that left my friends tapping their toes…)   We booked a private walking tour the following day and our guide led us through the Hagia Sophia, Hippodrome of Constantinople, Spice Market, Basilica Cistern and Blue Mosque. He explained their history and welcomed questions we had on any topic.   Sitting on the floor in the Blue Mosque, surrounded by locals for Friday prayers, I had a million questions about being a woman in Turkey. Why must they be covered? Why are they not allowed to pray together with men? Are they allowed to work? Do they have a choice in who to marry? Is the culture changing?   I felt a sense of calm in the mosque. Even though hundreds of people flowed around me, I felt a connection to the women who had come before me, to the women who will come after me. I felt hopeful and optimistic for their future. I felt like prayers made here were heard. I felt honored to be allowed to glimpse into this foreign world.   Continuing with our tradition of trying local activities, we booked a hamam at the oldest Turkish bath house in Istanbul. (For those shocked at our bath house experience in Bulgaria, you’ll be happy to know we were provided with a plaid triangle bikini top and shorts.)   We were directed into the steam room, or hararet, and instructed to lie on the hot marble slab for 40 minutes. Lying together on the huge stone, we got the giggles as sweat rolled into our eyes, time slowly ticked by and we wondered if we’d be able to last in the heat.   I closed my eyes and tried to convince myself it was simply mind over matter – it wasn’t really so hot.   As I gazed at the domed ceiling and imagined who had laid exactly where I was laying and what their life looked like, the small round windows in the roof started to blur. In fact, all the edges of what I looked at were fuzzy. I’m not sure if it was the heat or a deep meditation but it felt surreal.   Once I started seeing blue dots, I thought perhaps it was a bit too hot for me. As I sat up (suggest doing this more slowly than I did, giving myself a head rush and almost falling over), our hamam guides entered and took four people to begin the next phase.   Ackk! – Adrienne and I were left behind to continue to sit in the heat!   We quietly snuck out to the waiting room and stuck our heads under the tap to cool off but got busted and were sternly told to go back in and wait.   Finally it was our turn and we were thoroughly scrubbed from head to toe, followed by a heavenly massage with soap bubbles. (Seriously, I don’t know how they made the bubbles but it felt like being snuggled into a cloud!) We were rinsed off and wrapped up in towels and sent out to join our friends. Our skin was soft and glowed for days.   That night we sat on the rooftop terrace of our hotel, under the light of a full moon and talked about our journey so far – and how blessed we are to be on this adventure.   We had another full day exploring the city, taking the ferry to the Asia side of Istanbul, strolling through main streets, shopping, eating and looking for rooftop locations to take in the views.   Our final day started early with an invitation to join a new friend on the Hiawatha, a US Embassy boat given to Turkey in 1932. We excitedly climbed on board the historic vessel and cruised the waters of the Bosphorus towards Princes Island.   Being on the water is my happy place (not raging, white water but calm lakes, rivers and seas). The feeling of fresh air blowing over your body relaxes me and I find it impossible to think about anything other than the pure joy of being alive in the moment.   As

I grew up on a farm in Northern B.C. and although I’ve lived in cities as an adult, there’s always been a part of me that longs for wide-open spaces, rolling wheat fields, and expansive night skies filled with stars. My Remote Year journey so far has taken us to large cities throughout Europe and I’ve realized the places I love most are always just outside the city.  Belgrade, Serbia is no different.   Belgrade is the capital of Serbia and my home for month five. It’s a very walkable city, mostly flat with actual paved sidewalks! (No slippery, ankle-twisting cobblestones here – thank goodness!)   A rickety tram takes you around the city, mostly for free – there is no place to buy a ticket and you can’t pay on board. They say the service is so bad, no one pays, and the service doesn’t improve because they have no money because no one pays!   And it’s true – in the middle of traveling around the city, our driver stopped, got out and stood on the corner with a group of people and lit a cigarette! We all sat on the tram until she finished her smoke break and then carried on again. But we didn’t pay so we don’t complain.   The tram takes you right to the Belgrade Fortress, at the crossroads of the Danube and Sava rivers. It’s well preserved, with stone walls, draw bridges and hidden walkways. There are several museums, churches and restaurants inside, as well as a large park. The fortress is a perfect spot to watch the sunset…with sweeping views over the city and rivers.   I’m sharing an apartment this month out in the suburbs. There’s a high school across the street, grocery store and bakery on the corner and botanical gardens one block away. It’s a quiet, cozy neighborhood and suits me just fine.   It’s also close to a huge daily farmer’s market. There are rows and rows of vendors with tomatos, zucchini, mushrooms, lemons, raspberries and watermelon. I’m still figuring out the currency and thought my bag of peaches was 700 dinar ($7) but it was only 70 dinar – $0.70! Not even $1 for a full bag of peaches – how do they make any money?   There are the usual beautiful buildings – Parliament, St. Sava and St. Marks Churches, and Republic Square. I also love the pedestrian-only areas, where you can easily stroll through shops, sit at a fountain or eat lunch on a patio.   We had a chance to go kayaking on the Sava River, giving us a new perspective of Belgrade. There are several floating bars and I was surprised their nightclub district was on the river. Surely someone drinks too much and falls in on a regular basis, right? I’m always amazed at the different safety standards around the world!   But my favourite activity in Serbia so far was heading an hour outside the city to a small town called Novi Sad. Its city centre is small and easily walked within a half hour, including the park. We grabbed a fresh pressed juice and strolled along, seeking out shade and stopping to listen to local music.   We then headed to Petrovaradin Fortress, another well preserved fortress with stone walls, tunnels and moat. It is also the site of the annual EXIT music festival, an event that brings over 500,000 people to Novi Sad.   And finally, we wrapped up our day at a traditional farm. Driving past fields of sunflowers and corn, I knew I was going to like our destination. When we arrived, they had a long table set up under a huge tree – outdoor dining, my favourite!   Everything they served was homemade and delicious. A welcome drink of rakia, corn bread, cabbage and cucumber salad, fresh egg noodles with beef stew, and chocolate cake. Amazing food, stunning views and fresh air – what more could we ask for? Puppies!   Yup, they had puppies and dogs running all over the farm! Some were curled up for naps, others chased their tails and some played with toys but all of them stopped long enough for ear scratches, tummy rubs and snuggles.   Strolling through the fields, the farmer explained if you ate the dried cherries, you would fall in love with the man who gave them to you. He slyly mentioned this after I’d eaten the cherries he offered!   At the edge of one pasture, I noticed a few friends sitting on straw bales so I walked over. One guy had brought his guitar so we sat around listening to him sing, lazily watching the clouds float by and gazing over the fields.   Time seemed to stop. Dogs came and went. The breeze kept us cool under the shade of a tree. Cows mooed in the distance. I was aware of simply being alive.   Breathe in, breathe out.   There was no past haunting me… no future worrying me… there was only this moment – the only moment that mattered.   These are the moments I remember, the moments I cherish. The stillness. The peacefulness.   When you know you are exactly where you are supposed to be. When you remember why you chose this path. Where you can return to in your mind anytime you need to find peace.   I feel the country girl inside me growing restless, reminding me who I am and what feeds my soul…and gently showing me a way of life that suits me best.   I don’t know what life looks like after Remote Year but you can bet I’ll be seeking a wide-open space, with room for friends and dogs, and laying on a blanket looking at the clouds.     What about you – where do you feel most at home?

100 days is a milestone. We see it in politics (the first 100 days in office) and in personal projects (choose one thing – gratitude, yoga, walking – and do it for 100 days).   I recently celebrated 100 days of leaving behind my job, family and friends to travel the world, spending one month in 12 cities with Remote Year. My fellow remotes gathered around a campfire in Sofia, Bulgaria to reflect on how we’re feeling and to set our intentions for the remaining eight months.   The feelings were mixed.   Some people said it’s been the happiest time in their entire lives; others said they felt alone. Some said they had achieved nearly all the goals they set for the year; others said they felt they hadn’t even started pursuing any goals. Some never set goals at all and simply wanted to see where the year took them. Some people started relationships; others ended them. Some had friends and family come to visit; others returned home for quick visits with loved ones. Some left the program and others wonder if they’ll be able to stay.   And how do I feel?   It’s been…interesting.   I started the program with lofty expectations, with big goals and plans for all the things I thought I could accomplish if I wasn’t working a 9-to-5 job and wasn’t concerned with the daily tasks of owning a home and a car and being a responsible adult, good friend and helpful daughter.   I thought I’d have hours every day to master meditation, practice yoga, eat healthy, write in my journal, build a communications business and explore each city.   But things take much longer in a new country with a foreign language and no transportation. Sometimes you can spend half a day just trying to mail postcards! And often it takes hours to get groceries.   Everything is new – new apartment, new roommates, new workspace, new currency – and my brain is in overdrive. I know it’s important to vary your routine so you don’t go through life on autopilot. When I was home, I often drove a different route to work or brushed my teeth with my left hand to keep my mind sharp.   But Remote Year takes my brain to a whole new level.   Each month we throw ourselves into a new city and try to figure it out in 30 days. Our brains don’t have time to adapt, there is no routine, there is no habit – the nervous system is constantly firing, trying to figure out what we’re up to!   Yes, it can be exhausting (hence afternoon naps and regular massages) but it is also exhilarating. My mind and body feels alive!   I’ve experienced a range of emotions over 100 days – some things have been harder than I expected, other things have been easier but I’ve never once doubted my decision to make this journey.   I know deep in my soul that this was the path I had to take, lessons that must be learned now and growth I was ready to embrace.   I’m a third of the way through my adventure and I’ve tossed out my original goal list. It was written by an ambitious but naïve woman.   Instead, I’m focusing on how I want to feel every moment, every day.   I want to feel joy, I want to feel alive, I want to soak up these moments and store them away to savour when I’m 90 years old and remember the woman who was brave enough to leave everything behind and wander the world, guided only by a whisper telling her…   …yes!