Posted in Travel


One of my first trips out of the country was to Spain. We went when I was in first grade; to Madrid, Seville and 3 other cities. I was 6 at the time and don’t remember that much, but I do remember:

1. All the churches in Spain that we saw….it was too many for a 6 year old.

2. The little red cart pulled by a donkey by the art museum in Madrid. I went on that countless times, I think it’s the root of my love for horses.

3. The amazingly beautiful art museum in Madrid. The painting that I’ve never forgotten was the little princess with her ladies-in-waiting with her parents looking in. This was the root of me thinking I’m a princess.

4. The subway ride in which we lost of prints because of our haste to get off with all of us intact.

5. The pedestrian street dad drove down with me and my brother in the back seat laughing until we cried.

6. The little hotel we stayed at in an old monastery (or so I think…) and the oil crayons that mom bought.

My love for travel was put in my veins before I ever realised it, I travelled halfway around the world before I was even a year old, it was fate to have parents who loved to travel just as much and had a driving passion to explore the world and to broaden my brother and mine’s perspectives of the world because it’s so vast and diverse.




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