The word ‘authentic’ is used quite widely in the travel and tourism industry. But what does authentic travel actually mean?

Are you good at giving? Or do you sometimes feel so good at giving that it depletes you? And are you good at receiving? Or do you right...

In my last blogpost I wrote about what my stay in the Yawanawa village from chief Iskua Kua has taught me about the forest as a pharmacy and the role of indigenous languages in preserving that knowledge. The value of indigenous languages surpasses the indigenous context and goes way further than merely protecting global cultural heritage. Indigenous languages are valuable because they can make us see the world differently and inspire a closer connection to our natural envi

Imagine you are at the register of a bus station somewhere in India. All the buses you see are small and without AC. It is hot so the windows will be open. You know that everyone is wearing light and white clothing because of the heat. None of it will remain white because of all the dust and sand flying in through the open windows. There is no bathrooms in these buses and usually there are barely any toilet breaks. Usually these buses are the only options there are. But luck

I met Amber in my first week on Oʿahu, Hawaiʿi. She worked in the hostel where I was staying. I remembered her kindness and so when I was in desperate need of printing something for school with all the print shops closed, I stopped by the hostel. Amber was at the desk and helped me out. She printed my documents twice and in different font sizes, just in case. Printers always require some patience so we talked. The conversation was brief but good and she invited me for her yog

In 2019, I was in Laos for an internship at Lee 7 Farm – an organic rice farm run by a family that consists of seven siblings. Besides farming rice, the family hosts an eco-tourist project where visitors learn about the traditional ways of farming rice. The visitors also get to experience the entire process – from sowing, to standing with your knees high in the muddy rice paddy ploughing the field with a buffalo (named Pling in my time there), to kneading rice noodles. The e