The Teenage Travel Writer


















A World Writer’s Confession

It’s not easy being a writer, no matter where you are. There are deadlines to meet, characters to create, and an endless array of words to write. But how do you navigate the world with a pen, a passport, and a dream?

Well I’ve been blessed in life to travel the world and write about it as I go. So here are some travel experiences I’ve had while writing my way through different parts of the world.


I swam on a white sanded beach in Mexico, only to see three children laughing in front of me. “Shark!” They were calling, pointing at a spot in the water where a dim body slithered through the deep. Kicking my feet up behind my board, I made for shore as quickly as I could. But by the time I turned around, I realized they had been joking.

The next time I went swimming, my dad told me there were only fish behind me. When I pulled myself from the water, he told me, straight-faced. “You do know there was a shark swimming behind you, right?”

Just my luck.


We drove up the long, winding hills, or at least what I assumed were hills. By the time we reached the top, I noticed how some parts were patchy and covered with lush greenery while others were bare. The sign later read:

Warning: Active Volcano.

Great Britain

We got in an elevator and struck up a conversation with a nice gentleman from London. When he exited, my mother started laughing. I asked her why. Her eyes glinting, she leaned in to whisper:

“He said mate.”


My dad got a little mixed up with languages. As we made our way through the Louvre, he said “Oui” to a group of friendly tourists from Spain. When he exited the museum, he barely caught himself from saying “Gracias”.

“Languages are hard.” He told me. And then we laughed together while he bought yet another cup of coffee.



Oh the dreaded word.

I went with the rest of my aunts, uncles, grandma, and cousins to sing karaoke night to funny pop idol tunes. We ate satay, chicken peanut sauce skewers, and es cendol, or ice cream type desserts. I ate what I assumed to be the harmless tomato sambal, basically semi-spicy ketchup sauce. I ended up swallowing half a bucket of ice water after and draining all the es cendol.

“What was that?” I gasped.

My mom glanced over and said it was, what was translated to be, Bird’s Eye Pepper, or cabe rawit. It made sriracha into a joke spice for me once we got back home. Hey. Spice tolerance for the win!

Just no more cabe rawit.


On the airplane to Tokyo, my dad asked for sugar to put into his matcha green tea. The stewardess gave him the sugar packets and watched while my dad put way too much sugar into his drink. “How strange.” She commented.

I laughed with her and said, “I know.” And even my dad had to crack a grin at that.


My dad looked at the speedometer and pulled to the side of the road. Perplexed, he turned back to my mom and me in the backseat.

“What’s wrong?” My mom asked him.

Serious, he muttered, “Help me. Are we in kilometers or miles?”


And that’s just a few stories of what happens when you let my family loose around the world! Inspiration comes from everywhere, so don’t let metric conversions or language translations deter you. Seek out adventure! And, most importantly, allow adventure to find you. 🙂

travel blogpost


  1. mom on April 11, 2016 at 7:29 pm

    oh thanks to remind me all of that

  2. dad on April 11, 2016 at 9:05 pm

    you don’t have any particular joke from Italy/Rome

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