Tag: Magee Rehab

Sweden: To my delight, your fika, lingonberries and balls tickled me bright.

From the time I arrived at Arlanda airport I could already tell it was going to be a great trip. I had been to Sverige once before, many years ago, to see a friend, Jonaton Tillander, graduate from high school. He lived on the West Coast, in a beautiful coastal city, Goteborg.  At the time, I was in Danmark visiting friends in Kobenhavn, and boarded the ferry across the Kattegat (Danish: “Cat’s Throat”) strait, forming a link between the Baltic Sea and North Sea. In 1995 they built the Oresund Bridge, attaching Danmark and Sweden.  It is the longest combined road and rail bridge in Europe, including a 4 kilometer tunnel, connecting two major metropolitan areas, Kobenhavn, Denmark and Malmo, Sweden.

However, this would be my first time to the spectacular East Coast city of Stockholm.  To say I was elated would be to lessen my true excitement. It was always on my bucket list and now it would become a blog entry to inform other travelers. But this time in Sweden would be very different: I would be seeing it as an injured traveler, in a wheelchair.  Like any new place one goes while injured, I wondered how they would treat me, the condition of the streets, would I be able to access all or some of the astonishing tourist attractions, could I use public transport, would I be able to enter my hotel room, toilet and shower, and so many other concerns – too long a list to index here.  Game-on!

As with any new country I arrive at in a wheelchair, I immediately assessed my transport concerns. The city was a twenty minute drive by taxi or a bit further and complicated if I attempted public transport.  As is the case with most European cities but especially Scandinavia, public transportation is reliable, efficient and safe.  Trains departed  twice an hour from the airport’s Arlanda Central Station, between terminals 4 and 5, dropping you at Stockholm’s Central Station. The train ride is 38 minutes. Coach was also an option, with Flygbussarna buses departing the airport every 10-15 minutes.  They also dropped you in city-center at Stockholm’s Central Station.  I opted for the easiest option: taxi.

The taxi pulled up to the Generator Hostel, I paid, departed, and was on my way – let the enjoyment begin. As I entered the hostel, a chain throughout Europe (now with one in Miami), I was immediately welcomed by the warm and affable staff at the counter. I knew I had picked the right hotel. A few minutes later they had me sorted out and I was off to my room. The hostel had an elevator to reach the upper floors, lucky me. As is the case with many hotels I book while traveling, there is a process of elimination to find a room that actually is best suited to my injury needs. Not the case with Generator – all was perfect. The door had an automated option, though it was in repair during my visit.

Generator Hostels are my favorite places to stay in Europe. In the past year I have stayed at Dublin, Ireland and Amsterdam, Holland. The staff is friendly and welcoming, always willing to accommodate the injured traveler – they make your stay comfortable. Otherwise from experience, while journeying throughout Europe, I can tell you it can be a nightmare in a wheelchair.  For me it is very convenient to have everything I need on a bad day within feet of my hostel door: restaurant for food, bar for drinks, meeting area(s) for friends, handicapped accessible bathroom(s) and general area for shared enjoyment. Stockholm even has a mini ping-pong table. Beat Boris and get a free breakfast. I ate free for a week.

The room had four bunks but I was the only one there at that time. I settled in, unpacked, took a shower and then stole a short nap to recharge my batteries. I had flown to Sweden direct from Iceland, a three hour flight, and so was not very knackered. Usually my first day in a new city I take some time to relax and understand the lay of the land – I’ll look at maps, do some research and plan accordingly.  Since it was a hostel with a large shared space for eating and fun, I headed downstairs to the communal lobby/bar/restaurant area. As with most my life, not ten minutes had passed and I was already meeting other world travelers – making new friends.  Molly from Canada was the first.  Let the good times roll!

Map of the city understood, obligatory first drink with new friends finished, planning aside, it was time to dig in to the local eats. The hostel also had a club attached to it which served as a business meeting venue during the day, replete with a full chef’s menu and all the accoutrements.  Word in the hostel halls was the food was extremely tasty, and also well priced.  I would not be a true tourist if I did not make my first order Kottbullar (Swedish meatballs), served with lingonberries, mashed potatoes and pickled cucumber slices.  The tiny pork and beef meatballs were served in a nutmeg and cardamom flavored gravy, which suited the mashed potatoes just fine. They were mouthwatering. I was in love.

Dreams of meatballs and berries aside, the next morning I awoke to a phone call from a friend from United Kingdom, Lawrence, who had just arrived at the airport, was on a bus and would soon arrive at the hostel. He had flown into Vasteras, an alternate and cheaper airport for flights from Europe, located 100km from Stockholm – so though his flight, return London for 60 quid (pounds), was cheaper – he ended up paying for the inconvenience and time. Being an injured traveler I opt for convenience over cost savings anytime practical and pragmatic; though could be my age too. Sure enough, twenty minutes later there was a knock at my door. It was beer time – Brits would have it no other way on holiday.

That night we did not venture far, deciding to check out Bar Hilma, the club that was a part of the hostel. There I met Tahir from Kashmir, in Scandinavia selling the highest quality Kashmir and Pashmina scarves.  Shortly after, Nick from Texas, US joined the group, Ajay from London, England and Monica from Oslo, Norway, moments later.  Not long after, abound with a smorgasbord of personalities and stories from all over the globe alike, new life-long relationships were in the process of being formed. To date, I still speak with all the unique people from all parts of the world I met on my trip to Stockholm. The club and hostel catered to my injured needs swimmingly – Stockholm was delivering on her promise: fun for all.

Before departing each others’ company that night, some had agreed to spend the next day together sightseeing the local neighborhood. Being that it would be my first day out-and-about in the city in a wheelchair, it was most welcome to have some of my new friends along with me for the ride.  The next morning I had the most appetizing breakfast with Lawrence – scrambled eggs and soft bacon with fresh warm baked bread and newly harvested fruits. I then relaxed and did some reading and journal writing before meeting the others to explore the city. The hostel is centrally located downtown; everything you would want to visit is only a short distance away.  All attractions are a close walk, taxi or bus ride.

Over the next few days I spent time with different friends going various places. Everyone had their own interests and, as long as I was able to do so in a wheelchair, and they were willing to have me along, I joined. One sunny afternoon with Nick, Ajay and Lawrence we visited Skansen Island, world’s oldest open-air museum, where there is a small zoo, traditional Scandinavian sod roof homes, windmills, restaurants and historic enactments. After lunch, at a historic hotel, we had drinks at a WWII torpedo factory. The Raksmorgas (prawn sandwich) was delicious. A day spent with Joel, a nurse from France I met at the hostel, in his car to see more of the city and gardens otherwise inaccessible, was splendid.

What one immediately takes notice of, once past the small lip at the entrance of the hostel, is just how friendly the sidewalks of Stockholm are for the injured – blind included. The sidewalks are smooth, with cement ramp entrances and exits wherever a curb could be seen. The streets and walks were orderly, well lit and properly marked, reminiscent of a walk through any IKEA store – buses, trains and their stations, the same. There was ample parking for handicapped persons, almost always located right at the front entrance. Museums throughout the city had reserved parking spots very close to the entrance. Public buildings all had ramps as well.  I was overly impressed by the convenience provided for injured.

Stockholm is known as the ‘Venice of the North,’ also commonly referred to as the capital of Scandinavia. It is a city of old buildings and unique design, surrounded by water, dating from 1250s to 1600s – as the city was sparred being leveled by bombs in WWII, with the exception of a few ‘accidental’ Soviet bombs – though some say it was the German or Finnish Air Force intending to provoke the Soviets. The modern city is a lovely mix of old and new, apparent everywhere you looked. There is a lovely waterfront promenade where one can enjoy its famous multi-colored buildings and remarkable architecture, while having a drink or lunch with friends – or simply just taking in the breathtaking vista.

Their museum and art installations are world class. My favorite was Fotografiska centre, filled with contemporary photography, conveniently discovered in the Sodermalm district, with gorgeous views of the Stockholm harbor. Vasa Maritime Museum, located on Djurgarden Island, with its almost fully intact, 64-gun warship, that sank on her maiden voyage in 1628, never making it out of the harbor, was stunning.  A city of fine art – a ‘street art’ tour in Ragsved neighborhood, as well their subway stations, is one-of-a-kind – with over 160 street artists’ graffiti showcased – a must see.  Stadsbiblioteket, Stockholm Public Library, designed by Gunnar Asplund, is one of the city’s most distinctive structures.

Stockholm, hub of Scandinavia, alive and electric, is also filled with great shopping, endless culture and exciting entertainment and nightlife. The food, not just their fika, the almighty Swedish coffee break, with over 1000 restaurants, located in close-by districts of Norrmalm and Vasastaden, was affordable and most delectable. Ferries are also available to sail you to other exotic locations like Helsinki, Finland or St. Petersburg, Russia. As I mentioned in my book, Unbreakable Mind, life is best lived when Doing The Dirty Dishes, getting out-and-about, traveling the world, experiencing life, living – getting your hands dirty.  Stockholm should be on everyone’s bucket list – your fika dishes await – Nu gar vi!

Travel Blog: Click here.

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Book: Unbreakable Mind. (Print, Kindle, Audio)

Doing The Dirty Dishes Podcast: Watch or listen to episodes and subscribe: Spotify, Apple Podcast, Buzzsprout.  Also available on Google Podcast, iHeart, Tunein, Amazon Alexa and Stitcher.

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Travel Blog links: Covid-19 stranded in NYC JFK and Maine – also travel stories on Ireland, Spain, Sweden,  Belgium, Iceland, Colombia (Espanol version), Amsterdam, Germany, New Hampshire, TN and NYC.

Personal Website link where you can also find my book, photos of my travels and updates on current projects.

Thank you for your love and support.

Colombia: Eres dulce, ardiente y picante, tentadora y seductora – tus besos me sedujeron.

Todo lo que puedo recordar es que yo estaba pensado “¿Wow, esto está realmente pasando? Eran finales de los 1990’s y yo había sido contratado como maestro para el Colegio en Bucarmanga, en el Departamento Santander, en el Norte-Central de Colombia, en un contrato de dos años. Resulta ser que al tiempo que recibía mi Visa de trabajo para Colombia, me estaban ofreciendo una posición en Tokio, Japón, con el gobierno japonés. Decidí moverme al Este en lugar del Sur, determinando que encontraría otro tiempo y oportunidad para regresar a Colombia. Usualmente la vida no nos da segundas oportunidades, pero, veinte años después, la vida me da la oportunidad. Desde ese entonces es como si Colombia me llamara, dijera mi nombre con un encanto ilimitado, me susurrara dulcemente al oído, la seductora de indias – una vez mordido ya no hay timidez. Estoy enamorado. Este es el cuento de mi aventura en Colombia, viajando lesionado en silla de ruedas, y de toda la maravilla y esplendor que resultó de la magia del tren.

Era un vuelo temprano a la tierra ardiente y picante desde Filadelfia: 06:00. Eso significaba despertarme a las 3:00 am, casi sin haber dormido. No era un comienzo prudente para un viaje largo con una escala de ida y otra de regreso. Poder descansar mi cuerpo en posición horizontal durante la noche le da a mi cuerpo y músculos el alivio necesario por un día de embestida de la presión a mi columna vertebral, siempre lo necesito con desesperación. La escala en Atlanta fue un regalo y una maldición por igual. Me permitió estirarme y tener un fácil acceso al baño, así mismo esto causo que se alargara el tiempo de mi viaje, causando innecesariamente estrés en mi cuerpo. Antes de cualquier viaje pienso en todas las variables posibles e imaginables: costos, tiempos de viaje, aeropuertos, retrasos y posibles escalas, comidas y el estado actual de mi recuperación. Cada aerolínea y/o aeropuertos tienen su propio personal que asiste todas estas necesidades. Cada año he notado que estos servicios no solo han crecido en cantidad, sino también y aun más importante en eficiencia. Son como un regalo celestial. Gracias a ustedes por toda su ayuda.

Tan pronto llegamos a Colombia, en ese instante supe que habíamos llegado al trópico. Aeropuertos de tipo retro, aeropuertos donde se despliegan escaleras de acero, estacionamientos de aviones en medio de la nada, verdes palmas alrededor, la sensación que te da su aire, es como si te golpeara una toalla caliente mojada, navegación requerida, son de lo mejor; sobre todo cuando un discapacitado necesita ser sacado del avión en una silla temblorosa de metal asistido por dos hombres delgados del personal de aeropuerto. Fue un viaje divertido, por lo menos no me tiraron, un punto para Stevo. (fotos de mi viaje las pueden ver aqui.) Como lo escriboen mi libro, en la vida, si uno quiere lograr algo importante o sustancial, debes entrar en la tómbola, presentarse, correr el riesgo y participar: Doing the Dirty Dishes [de vida].

Este iba a ser el primer viaje a un país industrializado donde sabía que los estándares no serían una especificación internacional, si es que existían. Desafíos abundantes, tantos como malezas en manantiales, estaban en todas partes. Apenas salí del aeropuerto fui acosado por una manada de taxistas. Pedro me pareció una buena opción, me gusto su currículo: un nombre bíblico en un país bastante católico. Buena elección. Puntuación doble para Stevo.   Solo el equipaje en el asiento trasero del taxi, la silla de ruedas iba en la cajuela. Cumbia la música a todo volumen hasta que llegamos al hotel. Fue un trayecto corto de tan solo 9 kilómetros, no me tomo mucho tiempo para darme cuenta que estaba en el lugar correcto. La energía de Colombia te abraza, yo lo podía sentir en mi corazón. Estaba donde se suponía que debía estar en el tiempo adecuado en mi vida. No hay errores. Aún estaba inseguro por que el universo me había mandado a Colombia justo en esta intersección, sin embargo, pronto encontraría la razón. Tan pronto entre a Boca Grande, Un camino largo y con curvas por la carretera mientras casi podría abrazar la playa y las olas, era 420 y “Peter el Papa” estaba más que feliz de compartir un poco de amor fraternal. Puntuación de bonificación para Stevo. Bienvenido a Colombia, era una grandiosa “Bienvenida” si tú me preguntaras.

Apenas baje del taxi y me enfrente con mi primer obstáculo real. La pendiente del camino de la entrada del hotel era demasiado empinada como para recorrerla yo solo en la silla de ruedas. Esta situación no ayudaba ya que el 90% de mi hotel estaba rodeado de la playa y no tenía banquetas para caminar, y cuando había algunas estas, eran demasiado difíciles ya que tenían piedras o escalones y algunos de los bordes eran de medio metro. Tener acceso a restaurantes o bares estaban fuera de mi alcance sin pedir ayuda o que el taxi me dejara en la entrada. Incluso tomar los elevadores del hotel requerían un empuje hacia arriba, era una pendiente pequeña pero empinada. No tenía baños accesibles excepto el de mi cuarto que era en el piso 29. No me era accesible elcafé del lobby del hotel, eso era un gran impedimento. El viajar mientras estás discapacitado o lesionado requiere una planificación impecable.

Me recordóde mis días en Magee Rehabilitation Hospital se “supone” que es uno de los mejores Hospitales de terapia física en Filadelfia, donde me querían correr por reusarme a aprender como saltar grandes bordos o banquetas en mi silla de ruedas. No le encontraba el punto. Por el contrario, pensé que era violento y peligroso. Mi respuesta a eso fue fácil: “Yo pediré por ayuda. (durante este viaje fui levantado en mi silla de ruedas en el aire, eran tantos los obstáculos y ocurrencias, más de lo que se puedan imaginar)” Cartagena fue verdaderamente un sinfín de obstáculos que recorrer en mi silla de ruedas. Mejor eso lo contare más adelante, pero nunca fue un problema. Este es un viaje de lesionado—Bienvenido al Club. En mi libro Unbreakable Mind hablo sobre la necesidad de levantarse y salir al mundo y vivir de nuevo. Todos los tropiezos no deben de contar, lo que cuenta es todas las veces que te levantaste. Esa es la mayor fuente de madurez y desarrollo en la vida, en vivirla, en ser feliz. “la Buena vida mi amiga”

Hotel Dubai Cartagena originalmente no sugería detalladamente las habitaciones accesibles para lesionados, en mi búsqueda inicial en línea en tres grandes sitios web de viajes. Yo quería saber más, así que me contacté directamente con el hotel. Lo bueno es que lo hice, ya que ellos querían, podían y estaban más que felices de tenerme como huésped. Usualmente encuentras información inadecuada o simplemente errónea en los sitios web de viajes, así que sé más inteligente y trata de buscar más información. Escribe correctamente tus preguntas, habla y has preguntas directas sobre tus necesidades para así poder estar seguro que estarán cubiertos tus requerimientos para lo que necesitas sobre como tener un viaje placentero para tus discapacidades en especial, antes de tomar cualquier decisión. Porque cuando de antemano piensas que todo estará bien pueda que fácilmente cambie y se vaya todo a la mierda. Este hotel me aseguró que reservaría para mí una habitación con regadera y baño accesible a mis necesidades incluyendo otros de mis requerimientos, era como escuchar fanfarrias y campanas para un huésped lesionado. Bueno, ¿puedes adivinar qué pasó? Entonces sean bienvenidos a un día en mi vida.

El portero me acompañó a mi habitación. Al ver una cama en cual podría recostarme para estirarme y descansar mi cuerpo, lo eché a un lado, realicé un chequeo del baño, me lavé la cara con agua y jabón, cuando apenas estaba postrado en mi cama estilo King California me di cuenta de que no estaba en una habitación para discapacitados. Ramón, Gerente de Operaciones, llegó unos minutos después de mi llamado. Después de visitar diez habitaciones del hotel, todas con diseños diferentes, determinamos que se debían hacer algunas modificaciones en la ducha y el inodoro para hacerla accesible. Hubo que quitar tres grandes paneles de vidrio para permitir el acceso de mi silla de ruedas al área del inodoro y la ducha sin tener que pasar por una serie de obstáculos casi imposibles; Los que podrían causar problemas en una situación de emergencia, si fuera necesario. Juan, el gerente del hotel, era la persona más atenta y complaciente que una persona lesionada podría desear, me preparó la mejor calabaza y bombilla de Argentinean mate. Fabio y su equipo de cocina hicieron todo lo posible para preparar la comida más deliciosa. Al final, me pasaron a una suite en el último piso. Recibí un pase de cortesía de $ 200.

Cartagena, fundada en el siglo XVI, en la costa colombiana, repleta de plazas, calles empedradas y arquitectura colonial de colores brillantes, es mágica. La gente es tan interesante y ecléctica como los interminables edificios pintados en colores pastel en la Ciudad Vieja. Donde quiera que vayas te encontrarás con amigos colombianos, desde taxistas hasta vendedores ambulantes y camareros; solo una pequeña parte del telar que une a esta fenomenal gente y la ciudad de El Caribe. El marisco es uno de los mejores que he probado en el planeta. Y la muy establecida Diáspora libanesa, que emigró a Colombia del Imperio Otomano en los siglos XVIII y XIX por razones religiosas y económicas, también tiene comidas deliciosas fuera de este planeta. Todos los mejores lugares turísticos locales están cerca y son fácilmente visitados en automóvil o autobús público. Desde que me lesioné, opté por un conductor privado para el día. Y ya que estaría tomando fotos con mi nuevo Sony Alpha 6300, la ventana del auto serviría como mi apertura creativa.

No había pasado una semana y dos de mis escenarios de viajeros lesionados más temidos fructificaron. En mi lista de los acontecimientos más temidos y ansiosos mientras viajaba por el mundo en una silla de ruedas, dos de los tres primeros son tener un estómago enfermo y un resfrío. Bueno, el tiempo había llegado; por supuesto, cuando llueve, se vierten, ambos me llegaron por la espalda, sin darme cuenta.Después de ser cuidado y atendido por Simon y mis amigos, decidí explorar la Ciudad Vieja en taxi por la noche. Fue justo lo que ordenó el médico, permitiéndome visitar la ciudad en su magnífica gloria nocturna.Por la noche, hay un “sentimiento” diferente para la gente y la ciudad, como si se presionara un botón y la energía se relajará aún más. Durante las próximas dos semanas tomé muchos viajes en taxi con mi cámara lista para filmar todo, desde el Castillo de San Felipe de Barajas, la Plaza de Las Bóvedas, Getsemaní y muchos otros barrios culturales locales, algunos con arte callejero de renombre mundial. Cartagena es una ciudad rica en historia y cultura, con una belleza infinita, una verdadera delicia. ¡Ve y visítala!

Aparte de los contratiempos de un viaje normal, ocasionales salidas equivocadas, ser robado a ciegas por un cambista de la calle, luchar contra los vendedores ambulantes de playa y la lucha perpetua con los taxistas por tarifas excesivas, mi aventura en Colombia fue un gran éxito. No se podría haber hecho sin el cariño y el apoyo de otros, los amigos y extraños por igual. Michael, un amigo de Alemania, a quien conocí mientras vivía en Ámsterdam, vino de visita por una semana. Fue tan bueno tenerlo allí; siendo parte de su viaje interior, igual como yo había comenzado. Simón, mi vecino y un capitán de yate noruego, con base en Miami, Florida, eran mis brazos y piernas muchos días cuando estaba acostado en la cama luchando contra un resfriadovicioso o los horrendos problemas estomacales que experimentaba, los cuales requirieron antibióticos, pro-bióticos y Algunos TLC internacionales. El personal del hotel fueron muy amables y serviciales. Siempre estaré muy agradecido por todo el amor y la ayuda que recibí.

Como resultado de mi accidente, no pude viajar internacionalmente durante seis años. Mi voluntad y mi espíritu fueron quebrantados. Pero ahora mientras viajo por el mundo me siento más cómodo: estar en el flujo cotidiano, vivir la vida. Fue la última parte de mi libertad recuperada y estaba más que extasiado de viajar y experimentar el mundo nuevamente. Es la misma razón por la que inicié este blog: para ayudar a inspirar a otros lesionados a viajar de nuevo, a abrir los ojos a las posibilidades que existen, cuando uno abandona la seguridad de su hogar. Cada viaje empujo mis límites un poco más lejos que el anterior. Esto me ha brindado un crecimiento interno ilimitado y la experiencia más maravillosa al conocer personas extraordinarias y visitar lugares sobrenaturales, ese tipo que solo se encuentra cuando tus ojos y tu corazón están bien abiertos; aceptar y enfrentar nuevos desafíos de cada reto, formando recuerdos indelebles, al mismo tiempo que se forjan relaciones profundas y significativas que duraran toda la vida. Colombia cumplió con todo lo anterior. Tomé sus aguas frescas y ahora me siento con ganas de escucharla para que vuelva a llamar mi nombre, Colombia está para siempre en mi corazón. ¡Besitos, mi amor!

Traducción por: Araceli Arroyos  Contacto: 25arroyos@gmail.com

Travel Blog: Click here.

Spiritual Blog: Click here.

Book: Unbreakable Mind. (Print, Kindle, Audio)

Doing The Dirty Dishes Podcast: Watch or listen to episodes and subscribe: Spotify, Apple Podcast, Buzzsprout.  Also available on Google Podcast, iHeart, Tunein, Amazon Alexa and Stitcher.

Doing The Dirty Dishes YouTube channel – watch and subscribe.

Social Media links: Twitter, Instagram and Linkedin.

Travel Blog links: Covid-19 stranded in NYC JFK and Maine – also travel stories on Ireland, Spain, Sweden,  Belgium, Iceland, Colombia (Espanol version), Amsterdam, Germany, New Hampshire, TN and NYC.

Personal Website link where you can also find my book, photos of my travels and updates on current projects.

Thank you for your love and support.

Colombia: You sweet, hot and spicy, beguiling temptress – your kiss seduced me.

All I can remember is thinking, “Wow, is this really happening?”  It was late 1990s and I had just been hired as a teacher at a collegio in Bucaramanga, Santander Department, north-central Colombia, for a two year contract. As it turns out, at the time I had received my work Visa for Colombia, I was also offered a position in Tokyo Japan, with the Japanese government.  I chose to move east instead of south, determined I would find another time and opportunity to get back to Colombia. Well, usually life does not provide us a second opportunity but, twenty years on, finally she did.  Colombia has been calling my name ever since, with boundless allure, whispering to me softly, the seductress de Indias – once bitten, not shy; I’m in love. This is the tale of my adventure to Colombia, traveling injured in a wheelchair, and all the wonder and splendor that resulted from the magic of the trail.

It was an early flight to the land of piccante y caliente from Philadelphia: 06:00. That meant a 03:00 wake-up call with little to no sleep. Not a prudent start to a long trip with a stopover each way.  Being able to rest my body in horizontal position at night gives my body and muscles the relief from the daily onslaught of spinal pressure it so desperately needs. The stopover in Atlanta was a gift and a curse, all the same – it allowed me to stretch and easily access a bathroom but also lengthened my travel time, thus unnecessarily stressing my body. Before any trip I weigh all viable and imaginable variables: cost, total time of travel, airports, layovers and possible stopovers, food, and current recovery status.  Each airline and/or airport has their own staff to assist those in need. Every year I notice these services not only increasing in their sheer numbers but also, most importantly, efficiency. They are a godsend – thank you for your assistance.

Upon arrival in Colombia one instantly knows one has arrived in the tropics. Old school airports where they roll out steel stairs, plane parks in the middle of nowhere, verdant palms abound, as the air hits you like a heated wet towel, navigation required, are the best; especially when in a wheelchair and need to be carried off the plane in a shaky old metal aisle chair by two slender ground-crew members. It was a fun ride. They did not drop me.  One point for Stevo.  (Photos of my travels can be seen here.) As I authored in my book, in life, if one wants to get anything grand or substantial accomplished, one must get in the mix, show up, take a risk, live and participate in: Doing the Dirty Dishes [of life]. This was to be my first trip to an industrialized country where I knew the standards would not be up to international specification, if they existed at all. Challenges abundant – like weeds in spring, they were everywhere.

No sooner I walked out of the airport and was accosted by a gaggle of local taxi drivers.  Peter seemed like a nice choice. I liked his resume: biblical name in a very Catholic country. Good pick. Score two for Stevo.  Solo bag in the backseat, wheelchair in the trunk, Cumbia music blaring, we were off to the hotel. It was a short drive, only 9 kilometers.  It did not take long to know I was at the right place; the energy in Colombia was all encompassing; I could feel it in my heart. I was where I was supposed to be at that time, in life. There are no mistakes. I was still unsure why the universe had sent me to Colombia at this juncture but I was soon to find out.  As we entered Boca Grande, meandering down the highway as it hugged the beach and waves, it was 420 and ‘Peter the Pope’ was more than happy to share some brotherly love. Bonus score for Stevo. Welcome to Colombia – a mighty nice Bienvenido, if you ask me.

Not a moment out of the taxi and my first real serious obstacle appeared.  The slope of the driveway of the hotel was too steep to get up in the wheelchair on my own. That situation was not helped by the fact there were no sidewalks for 90% of the beach area surrounding my hotel. And when they had some form of sidewalk or stepping stones made of broken uneven pieces of jagged concrete, the curbs were almost a half meter high. Access to local eateries and bars was out of the question without assistance or a taxi ride. Even getting to the elevators of the hotel required a push up a small but steep incline. There were no accessible bathrooms except in my room on the 29th floor.  I could not access the café in the lobby as it had a large step as an impediment.  Travel while injured requires impeccable planning.

It reminded me of my days at Magee Rehabilitation Hospital, a “supposed” top physical therapy hospital  in Philadelphia, where they wanted to kick me out of in-patient therapy for refusing to agree to learn how to jump my wheelchair up large curbs.  I saw no point; I found it violent and dangerous. My answer to them was easy: “I’ll ask for help (throughout this trip I would be carried in my chair in the air, over more obstacles and occurrences than I could count).” Cartagena was a never-ending veritable obstacle course in a wheelchair; best left to the advanced; but never an issue. This is injured travel – welcome to the club. In my book, Unbreakable Mind, I speak of the need to get out into the world to live again, that it is not falling down that counts, it is how many times you get up that counts – that is the greatest source of maturity and development in life – in living – happiness.  La Buena vida, mi amiga.

Hotel Dubai Cartagena did not originally come up as having accessible rooms in my initial search online with the big three travel websites. I knew better and so contacted the hotel direct. Good thing I did as they were willing and able and more than happy to have me as a guest. Most often you will find the information on travel websites to be inaccurate or flat out wrong.  Be smart and seek out more information – write the property, ask the appropriate required questions and make sure all concerns for your injury or special requirements are addressed beforehand. Because even when you think you have it all worked out beforehand, it can easily go to shit, quick. This hotel assured me they would reserve a room with accessible shower and all the other required whistles and bells for an injured guest.  Well, can you guess what happened?  Welcome to a day in my life.

The doorman accompanied me to my room.   Relieved to see a bed to lay down on to stretch my body, I shooed him off, performed a bathroom check, washed my face with soap and water, when no sooner was I prostrated across the California king duvet I realized I was not in an accessible room.  Ramone, Operations Manager, arrived a few minutes later. After visiting ten different hotel rooms, all with unalike room layouts, we determined that some modifications had to be made to the shower and toilet to make one accessible.  Three large glass panels had to be removed in order to allow access for my wheelchair to the toilet and shower area without having to go through a near impossible set of hurdles; ones that would cause trouble in an emergency situation, if required urgency. Juan, the hotel manager, was the most caring and accommodative person an injured person could wish for. He prepared the best calabaza y bombilla of Argentinean mate.  Fabio and his kitchen crew went above and beyond to make the most delicious food. In the end, they upgraded me to a top floor suite.  Pass GO, collect $200.

Cartagena, founded in 16th century, on the Colombian coast, replete with squares, cobblestone streets and brightly colored colonial architecture, is magical. The people are just as interesting and eclectic as the endless pastel painted buildings in the Old City. Everywhere you go you come across friendly Colombians, from taxi driver to street vendor to waiter; only a small tatter of the fabric that binds together this phenomenal El Caribe people and city. The seafood is some of the best I have tasted on the planet.  And the very established Lebanese Diaspora, immigrating to Colombia from the Ottoman Empire in the 18th & 19th centuries for religious and economic reasons, also has out-of-this-world delectable eats.  All the best local tourist spots are close-by and are easily visited by car or public bus. Since injured, I opted for a private driver for the day. And since I would be shooting photos with my new Sony Alpha 6300, the car’s window would serve as my creative aperture.

Not a week had gone by and two of my most feared injured traveler scenarios fructified.  On my list of most feared anxious happenings while traveling the world in a wheelchair, two of the top three, are getting a sick stomach and a bad cold. Well, the time had arrived; of course, when it rains, it pours – both arrived back-to-back.  After being nursed back to health by Simon and friends I decided to explore the Old City by taxi at night. It was just what the doctor ordered – allowing me to take in the city at its magnificent nocturnal glory. At night there is a different ‘feel’ to the people and city – as if a button is pushed and the energy becomes even freakier relaxed. Over the next two weeks I would take many taxi trips with my camera on the ready to shoot everything from Castillo de San Felipe de Barajas, Plaza de Las Bovedas, Getsemani and many other local cultural barrios, some with world renown street art.  Cartagena is a city rich in history and culture, with infinite beauty, sure to delight. Go visit.

Other than your standard travel mishaps, occasional cultural faux-pas in Espanol, being robbed blind by a street money changer, fighting off beach hawkers and the perpetual fight with taxi drivers over padded fares , my adventure to Colombia was a huge success.  It could not have been done without the loving care and support of others, friend and stranger alike. Michael, a friend from Germany, whom I met while living in Amsterdam, came to visit for a week. It was so great having him there; being a part of his inner-self journey as it commenced.  Simon, my neighbor and a Norwegian yacht captain, based in Majami, Florida, was my arms and legs many a day when laid up in bed fighting a vicious cold or the horrendous stomach issues I experienced, requiring anti-biotics, pro-biotics and some international TLC. The hotel staff was so friendly and helpful. I am forever grateful for all the love and help I received.

As a result of my accident I was unable to travel internationally for six years. My will and spirit were broken.  While traveling the globe I am most comfortable – being in the flow of life, living life.  It was the last part of my freedom recovered and I was beyond ecstatic to travel and experience the world again. It is the same reason I started this blog: to help inspire other injured to travel again, to open their eyes to the possibilities that exist when one leaves the safety of their home. Each trip I push my boundaries a bit further than the last. This has provided me limitless inner growth and the most wonderful of experiences meeting extraordinary people and visiting supernatural places, the type only found when your eyes and heart are wide open; accepting and tackling new challenges at every curve, forming indelible memories – all while forging life-lasting deep and meaningful relationships.  Colombia delivered on all the above. I drank her Kool-Aid and now find myself pining to hear her to call my name again – she is forever in my heart. Besitos, mi amor!

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