Trending Articles :: The Wander{ita}

Preface: There's this weird social phenomenon percolating amongst 20-something-year-olds throwing out catchy key phrases such as "the decade to find ourselves" and "why it's okay to be 'selflish' in your 20s" or "why you need to be single in your 20s" -all pointing at this period of our lives as a decade to drink copiously,...

Preface: What if I were to tell you that there's a side of yourself you've never seen? A part of your brain you never explored? A passion, a love, a hobby you never even imagined existed? ...What if I were to tell you that you've never embraced your complete character?

A best friend is currently traipsing around Europe, and capturing (I'm sure what is only a small percentage) of the beautiful moments she experiences and places she goes via Instagram. On once such photo, taken in Prague, she posted a caption from Scott Cameron that I immediately fell in love with: "Travel makes you modest.

Article by Rachael Leonie. Word of mouth works better than Trip Advisor for travelers, and if you've been in the Mendoza region for more than two hours, you've most likely heard of Mr. Hugo's. Mr. Hugo's is a bike wine tour company made famous by the legendarily cheerful Mr. Hugo himself.

By Rachael Leonie. My day planner was an accountant's dream and an epileptic's nightmare: numbered hours corresponded with deadlines and lunchtimes, while loud, glaring highlighter burst out between every task, detailing any omission, exception, or special note that corresponded with said event.

Article by Rachael Leonie. Preface: Be better, study longer, try harder. Along the way to adulthood, there were always social standards encouraging me to reach perfection. In high school, I wanted popularity; in college, it was good grades; post-grad, a high-paying job; along the way, I craved other standards of perfection such as to be smarter, skinnier, prettier, or happier.

Curiosity: It kills cats, excites children, and escapes adults. It's our first and last passion, yet all too easily cast aside for habit and routine. When I was in kindergarten, I felt a certain thrill in the mornings, thinking about what I was going to pull over my head to decorate my petite body.

Of all the romantic anecdotes about expats finding their way to Buenos Aires, there isn't one quite like Ayaz and Liyanleth's. But then again, if there was, maybe I wouldn't have been lounging in their juice bar, aptly named The Factory, sampling each fruit-empowered flavor off the menu.

Article by The Wanderita, Rachael Leonie. I never planned on living in Buenos Aires. I didn't come to escape the chains of routine. I wasn't looking for a room to rent or a job to cushion my stay. And I certainly wasn't planning on falling in love.

Article by Rachael Leonie. As one of the cities many freelancing expatriates, I've spent my fair share of time shuffling through Buenos Aires' coffee shops: tasting the bland, paying for the disappointing, and gulping down the bitter.