The document describes the author's experience taking a bike ride around Barcelona, Spain. It discusses exploring the city by bike, including visiting an outdoor market and stopping on beaches. It then recounts an incident where the author almost collided with a pedestrian who yelled insults at them in Spanish before cycling away, learning the importance of being cautious on the busy streets. The summary ends by advising those visiting Barcelona to enjoy its outdoor activities but to do so carefully.

1. Barcelona, Spain
Unforgettable Bike Ride
Barcelona, the colorful Catalan city of España, boasts some of the most fanciful architecture,
pedestrian-friendly avenues, verdant parks, and lively beaches in all of Europe. Situated on
the Eastern coast of Spain, Barcelona is an outdoor lover’s ideal getaway. Given its mild,
Mediterranean-style weather, basking in the sun, walking through the many historic sites,
or noshing tapas at a sidewalk bar is pleasurable year-round. Plus, opting for bikes to
venture out in exploration of the city is the often-preferred means of transportation for
both wayfarers and locals alike. Thus, to effectively immerse within the local culture, my
first morning in Barcelona consisted of a stroll through an expansive open-aired market –
La Boqueria – for some tasty bites and, of course, a bike rental.
I spent the better part of the day riding across pebbled streets and around renowned
structures, stopping only to down a liter of sangria on a soft-sanded beach; I was lost in
Barcelona’s sweeping vivacity… So much so that I failed to remember just how passionate
Spaniards can be. As I was attempting to cross a busy intersection, so, too, were a plethora
of pedestrians. One of which chose to step directly in my perceived path line. Trying to
avoid an all-out collision and ensuing embarrassment (I didn’t want to be that American), I
frantically swerved and just brushed him…whew. However, in my state of relief, I casually
threw up my hand in exasperation. Oops. It was as if all time came to a screeching halt. Out
of the mouth of that feisty, I-can-walk-where-I-please Spanish lad came an earsplitting,
heady mix of the Catalan dialect. All eyes were on me as I tried in vain to peddle like never
before, only to be followed by the loud-mouthed gent who was going off on a total tirade
that everyone around could decipher except me. I was finally able to gain enough ground;
however, my new acquaintance left me with a final departing word that I understood as
plain as day. In the midst of all the unfamiliar Spanish garble, he managed to yell out
“bitchhhhh”. Boom. I was instantly the laughing stock, but I will hand it to him; it was a
well-played effort. Although I do surmise he intentionally learned that one English word
and kept it in the memory bank for all foreigners who dared cross his path. Lesson learned:
when in Barcelona, take part in its ample outdoor activities…but do so at your own risk!

2. Marrakech, Morocco
Fish and Chips
I had long yearned to visit Morocco, as I was instantly seduced by its charm that radiated
from photos and travel shows. The North African culture intrigued me, and I was ready to
experience it for myself. Finally, I made the trip to one of the country’s largest and most
densely populated cities, Marrakech. The city, which is situated at the base of the Atlas
Mountains in mid-Southwestern Morocco, is positioned as a tight circular area making the
entire circumference walker- or petit taxi-friendly. With so many sites, city squares, food
stalls, shopping bazaars, and outdoor activities (e.g. golf, camel treks, desert safaris),
Marrakech could easily occupy a week of your time. Unfortunately, I only had three days to
make the most of it. But after choosing to stay in a local riad – an ancient open-roofed
house with a center courtyard and dipping pool – I was quickly beguiled by Marrakech’s
cultural flair. I was served traditional Moroccan meals on the rooftop, treated to fragrant
spa baths, and serviced by my very own Berber butler. I was enlightened on the city’s
historical past and implications for its developing future. As such, various myths about
Morocco and its inhabitants were effectively debunked for me, as everyone whom I
encountered and engaged with was accommodating, fascinating, open-minded, and eager
to show me the popular and off-the-beaten-path highlights of their beloved city.
Despite a recent terrorist attack on the main plaza – Jemaa el-Fnaa – I never felt any
impending danger or threat. Nonetheless, I took precautionary measures by donning
modest clothing, paying respects to the mosques and daily prayers, limiting alcohol
consumption to hotel bars or restaurants approved for such, and refraining from public
overuse of my American accent. In doing so I was able to blend in with the other foreign
visitors and take in the city as peacefully as possible. However, Moroccan people are smart
and innocently intrigued by outsiders, and thus they wanted to know more about the
underneath of my disguise: the magicians and healers working in the squares watched me
with great interest; local female passersby often touched me to know what “light skin” felt
like; and craftsmen selling their goods in the souks incessantly questioned and bartered
with me so that I would verbally give away my place of origin. It was a constant guessing
game for the locals; they were bound and determined to know who I was. Even when I
spoke Spanish or tidbits of Italian, no one was fooled; they needed more information so
that they could establish an accurate depiction of me, for whatever reason.
The steadfast determination of the locals was palpable and commendable, as they quizzed
me on my travel plans, educational studies, and place of profession and residence. They
even so much as followed me around the markets to coach me on proper bargaining tactics
and to ensure I found every trinket and gift of which I was in search. But what captured my
heart most of all was the nickname I was dubbed, “fish and chips”, by a group of locals after
coming to the resolute decision that I was indeed British. I could not help but concede and
expose my true identity. We all shared a good laugh, and hopefully I satiated their desire to
befriend a stranger to their homeland. I am eager to venture back soon and, hopefully,
obtain a new moniker that I can reminisce on forever.

3. Taipei, Taiwan
Identity Loss
Travelers to Asia often overlook or purposefully bypass the continent’s lesser-known
island country, Taiwan, in search of its more popular neighboring cities of Hong Kong and
Tokyo. But having explored Northern Taiwan twice – predominantly the bustling
metropolis that is Taipei – I am now more inclined to steer fellow wayfarers in that
direction. In general, Taiwan has a lot to offer in terms of natural parks and hot springs,
elegant temples, manmade sky-towers, antiquated shrines, and lavish shopping centers.
And, the Taiwanese effectively mirror this dichotomous tone that envelops the country;
locals are friendly yet reserved, traditionalist yet progressive, and multicultural yet
distinctively Taiwanese. Plus, they are all-around fanatic about pan-Asian food, boba tea,
karaoke, and communal activities. Seldom will one encounter a Taiwanese person dining or
walking alone, and when visiting the country, this sort of collective ambiance becomes
undeniably infectious.
I have a dear friend who resides in the country, and thus was provided with the hospitable,
customary treatment that is bestowed upon foreigners: family-prepared dinners, group
outings to the street markets, medicinal massages, and guided tours through the untouched
countryside. I was instantly connected to the generosity, humbleness, and understated
beauty that so encompassed a small, unassuming Asian island off the Southeast coast of
China. Nonetheless, my initial rose-colored lenses towards Taiwan soon became
translucent, as I was quickly brought back to the realities of travel: despite the irrefutable
splendor of any city, there can also be malevolence. In Taipei, it is necessary that one
doesn’t allow the beguiling environment to curtail necessary caution. I was reminded of
this lesson the hard way…
After a tiresome day hiking through the remote, pristine jungles of Taipei’s desolate
outskirts, I was ready for a relaxing evening. On the winding road back to the city, I
requested that our carload make one more stop to capture photos off a stunning
mountainside cliff. I opted to leave my purse in the car, as we were the only individuals in
the vicinity…so it seemed. We returned to the car five minutes later and my friend said,
“Hey, did we leave the windows rolled down?” Only as we got closer did we find the
windows smashed-in and shards of glass strewn across the pavement. Panicked engulfed
me, as I promptly recalled my unwise choice to leave my bag behind, which contained a
great deal of money, several credit cards, an iPhone, and all identification documents.
Luckily I still had my camera, but I was thereby rendered an unidentified alien in Taiwan –
one of few countries without a United States embassy. Despite a diligent police search,
there was no trace of the culprit(s)…or my identity. To make things worse, the consulate-
equivalent for Americans was closed, as it was the weekend, and an impending typhoon
was headed our way. I had no way out of the country. To calm my nerves while plans were
underway to locate an emergency passport, the local officials graciously allowed me to use
their phone and Internet to make alternative travel plans, and they provided me with
tissues, endless hot tea, and Taiwanese sweet treats…all true to the endemic culture of
Taiwan that I grew to love. Despite my unfortunate loss, the Taiwanese stopped at nothing
to see me through it, as if I was one of them. I was truly blown away by such kindness… (If

4. you are an American citizen and ever in a bind while in Taiwan, seek out the American
Institute in Taiwan.)

5. Rome, Italy
When in Rome…Watch out for the Men
If you have ever travelled to the fabulous Italian city of Rome, you have more than likely
used the saying, “when in Rome, do as the Romans.” Yes, this is all well and good for the
justification of devouring entire wood-fired pizzas, polishing off liters of vino, and making
expensive shoe purchases, but it does not bode entirely well when considering the Italian
male state of mind. Yes, Rome is predominantly known for its crumbling Colosseum,
ostentatious Vatican City, and Michelangelo’s masterpieces, but one can really not overlook
the confidence and audacity of the Italian male specimen that both flatters and forewarns
female travelers. While flirtation in Rome can be fun, one must exude discernment, as
Italian men can deem even a friendly, uninterested smile to be an invitation into the
bedroom. Italians are indeed lovers, but if you are not in the market for a fling or lasting
long-distanced relationship, then you might want to reconsider just how much you fawn all
over those delicious uomini italiani.
Case in point: On a crowded bus ride from a popular shopping district headed towards the
main train terminal, I eyed a rather attractive man seemingly minding his own business
amidst the claustrophia that overwhelmed the public mode of transport. I thought I was
being discreet in my observations, but apparently the recipient of my looks made keen
notice. As the bus patrons were filing out, proceeding on with their day, I started to make
my way across the street. Before doing so, however, I was instantly halted by a strong arm
and hand that so vigorously groped my chest…in plain daylight, amongst throngs of
Romanos. I initially thought I was being mugged but soon realized that my cross-body bag
was not being yanked. When reality finally dawned upon me, I shoved the guy off me and
shot him a rather malicious glare. He simply smirked and went about his business as if he
did that sort of unsolicited touching on a regular basis. I’m not sure if anyone saw or cared
– the latter theory more likely – but I do know that when it comes to Italian men, the affair
typically boils down to one of love or hate. Choose wisely.

6. Madrid, Spain
Amongst the Protests
Kruger National Park, South Africa
Up Close and Personal with a Lion
Huancayo, Peru
18-Hour Bus Ride in No Man’s Land