Surfing isn’t just for ocean waves and the Worldwide Web anymore. In fact, in the world of the serious traveler, couch surfing not only facilitates matching free accommodations of a lone traveler with a willing host, but also serves as an international network of people hoping to seek and create a deeper sense of cultural understanding.

This is the mission of Couchsurfing.org, an online community connecting people with others around the globe by providing a sort-of matchmaking service for the true wanderer. The initial appeal of couch surfing may very well be the absence of a bill slipped under your door in the morning. But after scrolling through the testimonials and statistics of “positive experiences” on Couchsurfing.org, it seems that once you crash on the couch of a welcoming local in far-off places like Poland, Ghana or Jamaica, you may never opt to stay in a centrally-located, expensive hotel again.

Couchsurfing.org is the non-profit brainchild of 28 year-old Casey Fenton, whose full-time job is now keeping the Web site and its thousands of members up and traveling. As a registered member of Fenton’s site, you can request accommodations according to your planned travel route — much like requesting a friend on Facebook — and then, if offered a couch, a bed or even a whole room, you can connect with your host and secure your accommodations. You are under no obligation to host if you surf. Don’t feel like riding the couch? Then just register solely as a host. You can even simply support Couchsurfing.org as a project without offering up any space in your home.

Membership is on the rise among young, independent globetrotters who hope to experience more than the typical tourist list of things-to-do. These new set of explorers also are looking to stretch their travel budget. The art of couch surfing seems to have manifested into an underground culture of its own, complete with its own lingo, set of rules and a strict adherence to etiquette, gratefulness and most of all, adventure.

In a way, couch surfing represents a commitment to the human spirit by encouraging people to interact, share and learn from each other. It brings travelers closer to the real experience of a place so that they can reflect, understand and ultimately appreciate the true dynamic of their destination.

photo by ryan jesena

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When I was in fifth grade and my family traveled to Pakistan, my friends didn’t know where it was. Ten years later, they still aren’t familiar with the real country.

The Pakistan in the news is nuclear-armed with the Taliban maintaining a stronghold in the North-West Frontier Province (NWFP) and Federally Administered Tribal Areas (FATA). There are nearly 2 million internally displaced people. And according to the BBC, “The United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees has declared the subsequent exodus the biggest in the world for 15 years.”

This is not the Pakistan I have known since my first visit at age two, nor is it the country most Pakistanis experience — the reality is hiding somewhere between the over-hyped frenzy and the optimism of its citizens.

My mother always gets really protective whenever we go to Pakistan. We can’t go out late and we definitely keep the English-speaking to a minimum. Her security rules probably won’t change when we go back in a month because, in addition to thieves, beggars and kidnappers, we have to avoid becoming involved in civil and political unrest.

The Taliban has an influential presence in the NWFP and FATA with many areas entirely under their control. On June 16, the Pakistani military confirmed it is going after Pakistani Taliban leader Baitullah Mehsud in South Waziristan, an area in FATA where al-Qaida and Taliban leaders have become entrenched.

An association with Pakistan and the Taliban has formed in people’s minds thanks to the media leaving people thinking it’s as hard-lined as Iraq. Pakistan is trying to fight off the Taliban and so far they have pushed the organization nearly 60 miles away from the capital.

On June 17, tribesman killed six Taliban in the northwest hoping to avenge a deadly mosque bombing. The government has reported that 3,000 villagers took up arms in early June and have helped the military significantly.

As the military continues to fight in the north however, people in the south are still dealing with tension.

“It’s unpredictable,” explained Shahzaib Hussain, 17, a resident of Karachi, a city in the south. “Anything can happen at any time. What the people of Pakistan say is that only God can save Pakistan because the politicians and everybody are corrupt. Every time we go out, there’s always a scare. We can’t enjoy life the way we used to, but we’re still hoping things will get better.”

Depending on how well the country fends off terrorism, I might not be able to return in the future. One of the main reasons my family and I are going back now is because we fear it might not get better. Even though it is a struggling, developing country with a former criminal as its president, some things have not changed and having family will keep me going back. Most of the Pakistani family friends we have feel the same way.

For now, I’ll say a little prayer and continue to make plans to visit the country my family calls home.

photo by michael foley photography

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My sister and I look alike, fingers and smiles cut from the same cloth. She’s never known life without me in it and the first memories I can recall are of her birth. When our parents divorced, we packed the same suitcase and rode the backseats of several vehicles from Renton to Kent to Edgewood and back again. Joint custody defined our childhood – we were a unit designed to separate.

This kind of shared independence bore “great passions,” as we like to call them. Years past, our first split interest is easy to spot; while I dove headfirst into anything theatre, Nora was off to Germany on the invitation of my stepmother’s Deutsch family. I could have gone with her, but it was either Brackenheim or dance lessons; for both of us, the choice was clear.

Nora spent two weeks in the Rhineland, returning with a passion of her very own. She WOULD speak German. I teased her for answering most questions with an exuberant “ja, ja!” but was secretly impressed by her fervor. Nora narrated our day to day with nouns printed on white stickers: de lit, de douche, mein swester.

She moved out of my life slowly, with the baby steps necessary for such a distance. A year spent in Frieburg through her college exchange; a room in the International dorm where students were encouraged to speak in their language of choice; an au pair opportunity after graduation which lead to a job teaching English to Germans. Now she lives in Dresden, going on year two of working for the Berlitz school.

My sister came home for her senior year of college and we reveled in our newfound adult relationship. We got matching haircuts (unplanned!) and shared an awe at our easy communication. In the relay race of 20-something social interaction, I have always felt most solidly myself when together with Nora. And then, there’s the whole gene pool thing – our similar way of being boggles my mind.

Three summers ago she stayed on my couch for the weekend, unsure about her future. She confided in me, “I know that I could be happy in Seattle, living like you do. I don’t know if I will find that going back, but if I stay, where will I use my German?” As much as I would puzzle over my motives later on, I gave her the advice I would have given my best friend: Take the chance. Follow your dream. You’ll always have a home in Seattle.

That she will, but it’s been over a year since I’ve looked her in the eye and it’s only going to increase. As we both look at our jam-packed calendars, the face of  reality overshadows sisterdom: paid vacation, jet lag, time differences, job commitments…all important. All between us.

On the surface I’m happy with our choices. Yet, in the pit of my stomach, I ache when I think of a future minus sister. It’s childish, I know, but that’s who we are to each other. My solace? We floated in the same womb. That means something, despite the millions of individual choices available upon exodus. I know she feels the same way as I do, because how could she not? We’re both Peachey and we always will be.

photo by gero langisch

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If you’d asked me two years ago where I thought I’d be when I turned 24, the last place I would have said was Japan. But, here I am. I turned 24 yesterday, and as I blew out my one candle that a bartender so generously gave me, I started thinking about how it is I got here.

A series of events led me to the life I am leading now, carefully placing me in a little town in Mie-Ken called Yokkaichi. The events were all triggered by small choices made.  No one could have predicted that the chain would land me a job in Japan.

Here is a short recap of my life over the last two years: I became single, moved out with my best friend, partied a lot, felt lonely, started dating a high school friend, “broke up” with my former best friend, moved home, graduated college, applied to work in Japan, got accepted, moved to Japan with my boyfriend, became an ALT, traveled a lot, and became single again.

A lot can happen in two years. I’ve realized the choices I make everyday really do affect the path I am on.  If there is one piece of advice I can remember my father giving me was this: Make good choices. Those three words are perhaps the best (and simplest) advice I ever could have asked for. Over time, I have realized that my decisions define who I am and who I want to become. Life is always offering different options. There will always be forks in the road, and temptation will be at every turn. And sometimes, making one decision means you have to give something else up. For me, that something that I had to give up was a best friend. Choosing to move to Japan was choosing to move out on her.

I often think about her, wondering if I made the right decision to come to Japan—especially on the days when I’m sulking about the difficulties that come with living in a foreign country. I am crippled by language which means everything is a challenge. But then, on the beautiful days like today, I realize and recognize how lucky I am to be here.  I think about why I made the choices I did, and I am reminded that I am living a life of my making.

Even if my emails are left unreturned, I know in my heart that I made the right choice for me.  I guess sometimes, that is all you can do.

Do you want to contribute like Cailin has? Email our editor-in-chief, Kenzie Rochelle, with your article and see our Contribute link for more details

photo by rudolf ammann

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Traveling can be a rewarding and enjoyable experience, but women need to think ahead and put a bit more thought into their travel plans. Unfortunately, women are more vulnerable to victimization when they embark on a journey.

Consider these travel tips, and ensure you make it home safely:

Dress Accordingly. Be respectful of cultural differences regarding attire and leave your skimpy halter top and mini skirt home if you are traveling somewhere women do not typically dress as sparingly. If you don’t, you will invite men to stare at you, hiss at you and perhaps even think it is okay to grope you. Also, if your diamond earrings are so sparkly that they are outshining the sun in an area that the American dollar is worth a fortune, you will be an easy target for pickpockets, gypsies and thieves. Your best defense anywhere is to keep a low profile and blend in.

Proceed with Caution. It is engaging and interesting to meet new people or get acquainted with the locals, but don’t get too comfortable. Simple things like watching your drink, not telling anyone what hotel you are staying at or what your last name is are smart moves — not unreasonable ones.

Be Vigilant. Being aware of your surroundings doesn’t have to mean you are constantly darting your eyes around, watching people’s every move. When you walk in a café or restaurant, casually scan the room. Take inventory of the people you are sharing space with and every so often, glance around and see who else has arrived or who is lingering around. Have you noticed someone keeping an eye on you?  Has anyone moved to get closer to you? This isn’t paranoia — this is consciousness.

Remember, being a tourist — whether you are stomping the streets of New York City solo or hiking with a group in Peru — can make you quite vulnerable. Use sound judgment and enjoy being a tourist — not a victim.

photo by firma

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This past summer, I had the incredible opportunity to travel to Africa for two months.  Most of my time was spent in Egypt but, for one week, I traveled down to Swaziland (in Southern Africa) and worked alongside a group from my church.  I didn’t know what to expect. The media covers Africa in a consistent light but being there firsthand is a whole other story.

During our time in Swazi, we worked with kids at the preschool, doing construction for new classrooms, visiting students’ homes, and helping to organize a soccer tournament.  The kids we were very sweet and ultimately adorable.  Every time we approached the school building, they would attack us with hugs. You couldn’t help but be filled with mixed emotions: happy to see beautiful smiling faces but heartbroken that they live in such a poverty/AIDS stricken area.  Being in a country where they have so little materially and yet are so filled with joy, makes you think about your own life and the blessings we tend to overlook.

Do you ever think we have too much stuff? Stuff ends up distracting us from being able to really appreciate things we so easily take for granted.  In America, we get caught up in wanting the new “it” thing and fail to notice all we have, which, as a matter of fact, is more than enough.  Just take a second to look around you.  You may see a cell phone, iPod, credit card, your favorite book, or even something as small as chapstick or bottled water.  How often do we look at these things with genuine gratefulness?

One of my last days in Swazi, I was on the bus with two girls from the school. Shuffling through my backpack, I realized I had a few extra granola bars and I gave them to the girls to eat. I cannot even fully explain to you how excited they were. They got the biggest smiles on their faces…for a granola bar.  If we could adapt a bigger attitude of appreciation (like these kids have) and become more grateful for the things we do have instead of ungrateful for the things we don’t, our outlooks on our own lives would begin to change.

I’m not saying we need to get rid of all our possessions. However, in America we do have an excessive amount of stuff we could live without.  We ought to be thankful for all the blessings God has given us.  When you have the opportunity to be thankful, take it. Just as an experiment. Try it out. I highly recommend it; your life will be changed for the better.

photos courtesy of erin franz

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I’m sitting on a plane from Toronto to Los Angeles, with two hours down and three and a half to go. I have a window seat which would normally be a Godsend except I’ve had two teas and a bottle of water. Having already asked twice for my lovely seat neighbors to get up, I have too much pride to ask for a third time and, yet, I’m literally about to wet my pants. Needless to say, I figured it was a good time to whip out my computer in hopes that writing a blog could potentially distract me.

However, this seems to be my life these days; it fits that I’m squished on a plane, about to wet my pants, wishing I had more dinner choices than a cold, prepackaged turkey (with no dressing) sandwich. My recent epiphany is that traveling is great, in theory. In my case though, it’s been worth every bit of it because I just had the honor of giving a talk to a couple thousand women in Thunder Bay, Canada.

Honestly, I’d never heard of Thunder Bay. In fact, up until the day before I left, I mistakenly told my brother (who lives in Montreal, Canada) that I was speaking in Ottowa. Needless to say, I was jokingly reprimanded for my lack of knowledge regarding Canadian geography and corrected in that I was flying to Ontario. Sadly, I’m still not exactly sure where either are on the map.

Regardless, I hopped on a plane with my manager and best friend, Emily, and we set off on an adventure to inspire the ladies of Thunder Bay at the 30th anniversary of the Royal LePage 5K benefiting The United Way. Little did we know it was vastly different from any talk, event, seminar, or gig we’ve ever done. Unlike the nameless faceless crowds, the hoity toity accommodations, and professional set up, it was like the movie where the city girl’s car breaks down and she’s stranded in an itty bitty town in the middle of nowhere. Like the classic story goes, our high maintenance city chic heroine ends up falling in love with the simplicity of the town and the hearts of the people, and is reminded of things she didn’t even know she missed in life.

We arrived after midnight and were driven, in the dark, to a tiny cottage miles from anywhere. After an 11 hour day of travel, we had just enough energy to change into PJ’s, brush our teeth and crawl into foreign, yet cozy, beds. It was not until the following morning that we awoke to one of the most beautiful landscapes I’d ever seen. We were on a tiny island over looking all of Lake Superior, surrounded by gorgeous pine trees, with a wraparound deck that begged us to take advantage of it’s prime real estate and view fit for a king.

The rest of the weekend we kept joking that we had to pinch ourselves to remind us that we were in fact “working” because, besides two big events where I was scheduled to be the key note speaker, I was torn between exploring Mother Nature’s pride and joy, bundling up and sitting outside in front of the bonfire, staring up at the millions of stars, watching movies, laughing with some of the most warm, sincere, and loving people I’ve ever met, and lounging in a resort-like cabin catching up on my pleasure reading.

Sometimes living in the Big City, we lose the appreciation of simplicity. We are so distracted all the time that we forget just how much contentment can be found in staring at raw beauty that would give Picasso and Renoir a run for their money. I forgot how nice silence is, how beautiful the morning songs of birds can be, and how the kindness of pure strangers can ironically feel like family.

As I sit on the plane, my bladder gets increasingly annoyed with me, Emily awkwardly slouches next to me, desperately trying to get comfortable enough to sleep, yet I know the plane food, the hours of layovers, and the travel exhaustion is worth every second. At the end of the day, there is always a price to pay to pursue our passion and the tag on mine is worth every cent. It’s the Thunder Bays of the world that keep me going.

See more photos from Thunder Bay by visiting the I Am That Girl Facebook Page

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If you’re planning to travel this summer, consider embarking on a volunteer vacation. Whether you hope to stay in the States or head abroad, programs are popping up all over that offer the opportunity to fulfill your wanderlust while contributing to humanitarian and environmental causes.

Many service excursions are structured to be all-inclusive and accommodate their participants, often at a high cost to the organization. Vacations usually include a place to stay, meals and transportation throughout your trip, the coordination of volunteer placement according to your goals — not to mention training as well as ensuring your comfort and safety. So, it’s no surprise that most volunteer vacations can actually be expensive, as groups pass the cost along to the volunteer. There are projects out there, however, offering lodging deals and discounts for a little beach clean-up or hiking trail repair.

To find a trip that best matches your altruistic tendencies and your budget, check out these select organizations:

Build. Take a Global Village trip and contribute to the building of a home, a community and new beginning for those in need — all while immersing yourself in the local culture of the urban or rural location of your choice. http://www.habitat.org/

Strengthen. Receive college credit or arrange a customized group experience to aid in the empowerment of individuals and communities through Amizade.  http://www.amizade.org/

Discover. The Bob Marshall Wilderness Foundation will put you to work for a day or a week on the trails of Montana where you will hike, explore and learn the skills necessary to manipulate the backcountry scenery along the Continental Divide.  http://www.bmwf.org/

Grow. Work on an organic farm from North America to the Middle East in exchange for lodging, meals and the opportunity to learn about farming, gardening and sustainable living.  http://wwoof.org/

Teach. For less of a tourist vacation and more of a true humanitarian expedition, work with the villagers of Nepal, Kenya, Mexico, Guatemala or Bolivia to end poverty by leading and connecting them with important resources and skills.  http://choicehumanitarian.org/

Even though you’ll be working instead of just relaxing, your soul will feel revived after giving back.

photo by dirk’s photography

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I’m on a plane. Again. Despite the fact that I flew in from Sydney 3 days ago and it’s 3am “my time” (jet lag status: activated).  I’m writing a blog in hopes that it will suffice in lieu of a strong, much needed triple shot espresso latte.

Either way, I’m flying to Aspen to attend an invite only, weekend-long event called, The Summit. It’s 100 of America’s CEO’s and entrepreneurs under the age of thirty-five. They are graciously putting us up in a five star hotel and have daily events, seminars, panels and, of course, snowboarding/skiing options. Hard life, I know.

However, and this is not to complain about traipsing around the world and getting to attend incredible events with some of our nations most innovative, successful, creative and passionate young men and women, I’m tired. We’ve all been there, right? Burning the candle at both ends of the stick? Pretending that your Wonder Woman garb is only meant for certain, specific times – but certainly not a full time job.

I felt I had just enough time to unpack, wash clothes, get caught up to speed on everything I’d missed the past two weeks at work, stuffed as many meetings into the three days as possible, repacked (the morning of, as usual), and was swept away into yet another steel belly air taxi.

I promise this is not a self–serving, pity party for my exhaustion; it’s more an acknowledgment that we have to honor ourselves. We have to slow down and appreciate our limitations. We can’t be everything to everyone all the time. We have to believe that there will be times when we have to ask for help and trust that people will understand that our imperfections are what make us real.

I know I suffer from an unwillingness to expose the chink in my armor, my weaknesses, mistakes or imperfections but what we have to realize is that when we put up those barriers, we underestimate those around us. We don’t have enough faith that our friends and family, our co-workers and significant others will, in fact, love us anyway. More than anything else, this is me singing to the choir that lives inside my head and it’s a reminder that weakness can be just as beautiful as strength because it allows others to become your hero, to get off the bench and into the game. Give someone the opportunity to carry YOU for a bit. I think you, we, especially me, could use that every now and again.

So deep breath, you will get through this. If you’re where I am at right now and all you really want to do is crawl in a cave with zero responsibilities for a solid 48 hour period to catch up on sleep alone, I completely understand. It seems it’s been my mantra lately: “There’s never enough time in the day.” But remember that time is the ONLY thing that is completely fair in this world. We all have the same amount no matter what. So the same time crunch you feel, everyone else feels too.

Even though sometimes you have to “Cowgirl Up” and do a double shift, you can always sneak a few extra minutes for yourself to recoup, relax, and remind yourself that you are THAT GIRL and you’re fabulous.

photo by lou huang

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Old Friends. New Friends.

I met her in Tibet of all the places in the world. I was putting together a team to hike a 150 mile trek to Mt. Everest. I plastered posters around different hotels to see if there were any takers. Like the old posters luring sailors (“Low pay, long hours, life threatening. Interested?”), my note read similarly: Treacherous, freezing temperatures, life threatening and dangerous Everest hike. Anyone interested contact me at the Lahsa hotel room 203.

Two days later, I had four brave volunteers; Leah Seymore was one of them. She is a native Aussie with the most gorgeous eyes I’ve ever seen and a contagious laugh that would be gold on the audacious adventure awaiting us. In two weeks, we covered approximately 12-15 miles a day in some of Mother Nature’s harshest mood swings – from freezing sleet to tortuously scorching sun spouts. We also stripped down to our underwear to wade through arctic, glacier streams as we held our backpacks high above our heads, blindingly placing frozen foot in front of frozen foot, fighting against the clock of numbness.

Despite inducing a fractured right hip myself and Leah almost suffering a brain aneurysm from the perilous altitude, we survived and achieved what was, for both of us, one of our greatest life milestones.

It’s fascinating to witness the different kinds of glue that hold people together- whether it’s blood, friendships, lover’s intimacy, or complete strangers who share a unique experience, there are different editions of life’s Elmer’s that hold us tightly together. For Leah and I, it was hiking on top of the world together, literally.

Also, for those of you who have ever traveled abroad or have similar tails of glue stick adventures, you know that these relationships are timeless and effortless. I’ll never forget Leah telling me as we parted ways, “if you’re ever in Oz, you’d better look me up.” Well, four years later, I took her up on it. The wild part was that as she walked up with her ever so slight swagger, it was like no time had passed at all. We gave each other the four year cliff notes to catch up and spent the next two days reminiscing about our bouts with hypothermia, running out of food a day early, and a wicked storm blowing in as hidden natives from the mountains suddenly appeared like angels from the sky and hurried us into their medieval shelters. We laughed about how at one point, for all five of us, we had a full-blown breakdown and simply sat down and refused to keep going. However, by the grace of God we made it. To this day, I’m not exactly sure which of my Guardian Angels was responsible for literally carrying me the last hundred miles or so, but we all crossed that finish line together.

Now the beauty of old friends is that, at any moment, you can breath life into that relationship and the old so quickly transforms back into the new. I don’t know when I will see Leah again in person, in what part of the world our paths will find themselves twisting together again, but I have no doubt it will be sooner than I think. And regardless, I’m sure we’ll pick up exactly where we left off.

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