Latest Stories
Most recently published stories in Wander.
Alone At Home
At the age of 18 I joined a group of young people to travel to West Africa on a humanitarian aid mission. Ten of us travelled to a small country called Togo and lived in the bush for three months. The “bush” refers to an area that is wild and untamed, and Togo fits that description perfectly. It had absolutely none of the many luxuries we take for granted in America, and it was the first time I’d ever experienced a way of life that was diametrically different from my own.
By Erika Birkenes5 years ago in Wander
Culture Shock on a Small Scale. Top Story - June 2021.
Rather than a culture of uncaring apathy, Japan is a culture of unobtrusive care. —Angela Volkov ‘Well, this is dismal,’ I thought, sitting on the edge of my narrow new bed, ‘six months in here’. It certainly felt like a prison sentence; at fifteen square metres, the apartment was only slightly larger than a holding cell at the Old Melbourne Gaol (that's 'jail' to you Yanks).
By Angela Volkov5 years ago in Wander
Oktoberfest and 3 Tips When Traveling Anywhere
Oktoberfest and 3 Tips When Traveling Anywhere When I was a junior in college I travelled to Rome, Italy for a semester abroad. I was with a group of people heading to Oktoberfest for the weekend in hopes to celebrate it at the original spot, Germany! We went to a special dress shop that sells the costumes we needed to fit in. This place was like a big carnival, with massive tents that hold thousands of people from all over the world. My biggest worry of the night was getting back to my campsite. I had no way of knowing when the public transportation closed and I did not have any directions of how to get back.
By Kendall Poland5 years ago in Wander
Language Labors
I was 21 years old and off for an unforgettable experience, a mission trip for my church across the world to the tiny country of Lithuania. I spent two months prior to traveling there learning and practicing the beautiful language. I was told that Lithuanian is one of the hardest languages to learn. I am not sure if that is accurate, but I know from experience it was difficult. I thought I was doing pretty well though, that is until I left the airport. The first time I tried to speak to a Lithuanian it was clear I had miles and miles to go. There is nothing quite like being surrounded by people you can’t understand and who can’t understand you.
By Viltinga Rasytoja5 years ago in Wander
Not Home At Home
There are many lessons I have learned on the road. In Ukraine I paid my first bribe after being thrown in jail for no discernible reason. In Uganda I learned how to ride a motorcycle. In France, I learned French. I fell in love a lot on the road too. I learned how to say goodbye. And I also learned that sometimes it is both easier and better to not bother with goodbyes. The road taught me self-reliance. There was no one to help me change a flat tire in Serbia. I learned to make fast friends. Intense, often painfully brief, friendships bound to end from the beginning because I was always leaving. Over the last five years I have traveled to over forty-five countries. Usually I traveled alone. I’ve grown used to the feeling of being out of place. Of not knowing the local language or customs.
By Raisin Brazon5 years ago in Wander
A Quest for Oceanic Nomadhood
In the next 4 years, I hope you will find us living on a catamaran, sailing around the world. For our family, boating, and water in general, is a central focus of our lives. My husband is the navigator, mechanic and engineer. I am the scientist and web writer, the teacher and the curator of wonder for my 9- and 7-year-old boys. While we have big dreams, we are still saving for a boat and building a content product that we can create that narrates our journey by way of our biggest passions.
By Penny Fuller5 years ago in Wander
The Old Man, the Haircut, and the Four Days of Naples
I held my phone ready in my hand. A trick I learned. When you live in a country whose language you don’t speak, even the simplest tasks become exponentially more difficult. But at one point, after a haircut I was particularly pleased with, I had the foresight to take a selfie and store it in my phone. I didn’t have to rely on my nonexistent Italian to tell the barber what I wanted. I only needed to show him a picture.
By Ryan Frawley5 years ago in Wander
Electric experiences
There it is - the night I have been waiting for. I am driving through the brightly lit highway into my future, highway that belongs to the city that I lived in my entire twenty-one years. I am well travelled- (who wouldn't be, living in Europe), but I had never before decided to leave everything familiar behind to enter the great American unknown. All I know about what to expect- is what had seen in the movies and what little I had picked up from a handful Americans I had gotten acquainted with in the last ten years. It isn't much- they all are proud to announce: "The US is huuuge!" or "I'm from Georgia" as if being from Georgia should impress me. Yet, I play my part and tickle their ego by widening my eyes and knowingly nodding in return: "Oooh Georgia? Yes-yes, I heard it is beautiful!". I smile back at the memory, hopeful that now, I am going to the country where my authentic self will be celebrated. Where you can't impress anyone by being "THE AMERICAN" and where everyone is equal. "Goodbye, corruption! Adios, to the never-smiling Slavic faces!" And as if to remind me what terrible life I am leaving behind, a whiff of sewage treatment plant waves goodbye back to me. The August night fell quickly on the city today. I still can make out the silhouettes of skyscrapers on the right bank of Kyiv and a cluster of well lit Orthodox churches on the left. I will miss taking tour groups through my city, pointing at the golden domes of Churches to wonder-eyed Americans and telling them the sacred tales of one of the oldest domains of Christianity. "The domes are golden, because it is believed that when God looks down on Earth, the domes shall reflect the sunlight and catch God's eye, thus letting Him know which country to send His blessings to". And I receive amazed "Oohs" and "Aahs" in return. Or this one: "This particular dome is blue with golden stars can you guess why?" and while my American tour group is coming up with witty answers, I withdraw to my swarming thoughts, among which my mother's advice lingers: "Americans are easy- they love being entertained- like children". I smile; She is one of the greatest entrepreneurs I have met in my life. Suddenly, I am violently jerked from my musings by a suffocating urge to throw up. My father pulls the car over and I tumble out on the grassy curbside. My mom follows me out of the car, supporting my arm. Hot tears are rolling down my cheeks, my stomach, though empty, heaves, as if my whole body is trying to purge itself of memories of my old life. I am mortified: There, fourteen hours and nine thousand kilometers away my new life is eagerly awaiting me: My future husband is buying a new car for our small future family. My future father-in-law is pacing nervously, in anticipation of his new daughter. I fall on my knees and look at my mom and for a brief, comforting moment I am a child again. I am five years old, and I am small. She is looming above me, smiling tenderly and tells me that all is well and she is near. And agonizing wave of adulthood covers me. Two searing streams pour out of my puffy eyes carrying my memories and my emotions. All the words I have said to her, all the things I have done, and she is still here, near me, supporting my arm as I'm throwing up my fears. How can she love me so much and how can I dare to leave her behind? "What date is your ticket for?" I ask mom. "I'll be there soon after you- in December" "It's a half year! what will I do without you?"
By Salomé Saffiri5 years ago in Wander
Global Citizen or Hometown Misfit?
When I was nine years old my father was headhunted to save a suffering advertising agency in Buenos Aires, Argentina. I had just entered the fourth grade, yet within six weeks our entire house was packed in boxes and his company flew us, first-class, on the long journey to South America to begin our new lives.
By Shannon O'Flaherty5 years ago in Wander
