Walking barefoot on the desert sand
touching the earth
grounded
feeling the wind
climbing for the majestic sunset
up up up
we go

Then we reach the top
looking into the wide expanse
empty and vast
open with possibility
the Sahara spans in front of us
showing everything
we are so small amidst the dunes

I feel the energy
that radiates from the sand below
we laugh
we pause
we reflect
we walk down together

As the camels walk slowly into the dusk
it is quiet
and everything is still
they pace softly amidst the dunes
I hold on
look up
and am filled with a deep peace
silently observing
the darkening sky

Feeling
connection
around the glowing fire
joy and discovery
looking into the eyes of new friends
and locals sharing their love of the desert
together we drum
into the deep star filled night
the beats echo through my body

We drive back
changed forever
the Sahara holds that magic
of transformation
and power
and wonder
I want to come back before I even leave

Inshallah

Discovering South India involves experiencing its diverse temples. We were fortunate to visit and enter certain monuments open to non Hindus and the rituals were deeply mesmerizing. Blessings, offerings, powders, flowers and elephants created spiritual moments of connection.

Visiting a silk weaving factory, where one sari may take months, and a cotton weaving shop, with special pit looms weaving special patterns, showcased the intricate and detailed crafts of South India. We learned about the artisanal methods of tile making, where color is mixed with cement for special tiles that last hundred of years. We stood beside stone carvers, where one slab of granite also takes months to be formed into a massive sculpture of deity. Time and talent blend to create these wonders.

As the city is waking up, a walking tour of Madurai offers a street view into its people. Breakfast is served, cows are milked, and fruits are sold. Having this opportunity to walk, breathe and connect was the most special of mornings.

The quintessential charms of South India are its people and their warm welcomes. Beautifully clad women in vibrant saris smile and say hello, whether at Cardamom plantations or in wedding receptions. The idyllic backwaters near Kochi are full of drifting house boats, and nearby temples have massive elephants ready for holy day ceremonies. Whether washing laundry or making bricks, India’s people work diligently and proudly. South India is encompassed with lush green scenery, incredible history, exotic hill resorts, and national parks along with matchless art and culture. The backwaters in Kerala, nestled in the south western part of India, are a beautiful region acknowledged as God’s own country.

This year's creative adventure took me to another mecca of color and pattern, this time only a three hour flight away. Even the name, "Oaxaca" has entranced me with visions of exotic crafts and colorful art. When I saw the Ace Camp tour of Oaxacan weavers and natural dyes, I instantly booked the vibrant adventure.

Visiting Teotitlan, a small weaving village outside of Oaxaca, and studying the craft of a third generation weaver enchanted me. Seeing the artful designs - and the painstaking process of weaving a rug, preparing the yarn and all the steps in between - truly showcased the works of art.

Ever since I saw a fuchsia painted stable on the cover of one of my prized architecture books at USC, I knew I had to visit the land of technicolor buildings.

Luis Barragán’s Mexico City is a world painted in magenta, where stables are modern art and where color has emotion. On this day long tour by The Traveling Beetle, we hopped into a vintage lemon and followed in the footsteps of one of Mexico's most emblematic, but also intensely-private architects: Luis Barragán. We discovered this illustrious precursor of Mexican modern architecture through a wide variety of his work in the city, and how light, color, texture, space and even his deep-rooted faith were common denominators in all of his projects. A journey into the life and work of Barragán showcased his indelible imprint on the nation's architecture.

According to Barragán, "Beauty is the oracle that speaks to us all. The ideal space must contain elements of magic, serenity, sorcery and mystery."

Oaxaca stimulates the senses and inspires creativity. We immersed ourselves in cooking class with a real deal chef, tasted at one of the best mezcal places on earth, visited masters of their crafts (carving, textiles), and enjoyed delicious meals around every corner.

Oaxaca is a place where no sense gets left behind. It’s a place where the act of feeling alive is a cultural imperative. It’s a place rich with a tradition that is still alive and pulsating.

In the age of the megalopolis, the Mexican capital is primed to bewitch and baffle, challenge and enchant

In the fall of 2016, I, and ten other woman, traveled from Los Angeles to Fujino, a suburb outside of Tokyo to study indigo textiles with Bryan Whitehead. Most of our two weeks was spent seeing Japan through the textile arts. Days were spent waking up, coming down for our morning craft or history lesson, enjoying a communal lunch and then trying a new technique. We pleated and folded, twisting old fabrics around ropes and cutting stencils from handmade mulberry paper. We studied the art of Japanese Stencils Katazome under the watchful eye of a third generation Kimono master. By making rather than just touring, we learned to see the real Japan.

Tokyo is a city of contrasts. Girls riding mechanical robots next to traditional temples. 

Hints of sunset echo among the mauve streets, its soft light fills the courtyard. Snake charmers whistle their tunes while cows cross the avenues calmly chewing.

The colors of the desert sands blow through the fortress walls. Adorned camels line up before sunset, strolling the dunes in ornate shawls. Holy men city outside temple gates, chanting under intricately carved sandstone screens. The golden hour burns their golden facades, appearing like a blurred mirage in the stifling heat.

With welcoming shyness, the village community invites those who visit. Language divides us, but smiles connect through the differences. Being Invited into their homes, we are humbled in gratitude. An opium ritual showcases tradition, in contrast to the crisp modern uniforms of children walking to catch the school bus.

White dawn light reflects off the waters ripples, softly peering through the palace stones The city of white, its pale painted walls echoing the still of a quiet morning. The lake’s placid surface, a soft mirror quieting the bustle of street life. Majestic and delicate, courtyards are carved in tapestries of detail. White, calm and clear, a city of reflection.

Interventions of present onto past, foreign onto local. Street artists telling stories though large scale painted walls in lieu of canvas. Harriet Tubman on the $20 bill, local Nola jazz musicians adorning an abandoned furniture store. Cigarette smoking soft serve, too close for comfort to a neighborhood school. Wit and wisdom, among “Nobody’s perfect.” Irreverent and poignant observations of a city’s resilience.

Vibrant pops of chroma, painted houses with lipstick porches. The popsicle streets, bold celebrations of New Orleans soul.

The bustle of the buzzed streets, the tap tap tap of old world typewriters composing fresh verse, a sunlit lunch, alfresco under the windy skies. The French Quarter is alive, becoming with its storied past and voodoo tales.

Intricate iron work and fabled mansions grace the tree lined avenues in the city of gardens. Hand sculpted fences showcase portraits of beauty, garlands of green growing between man made nature. Nature finding a way, like the ferns on the old cemetery wall.