I hopped on the public bus outside the Victoria Airport. I don’t know if it was my nerves or the huge hockey bag containing my entire life I was struggling to carry on board, but a dreadlock dude in the back smile at me, “first year?” he asked. I nodded. It was not only my first time on Vancouver Island, it was my first time in BC, and the first time travelling solo. Victoria would be my home for the next four years. He shoved my bag on the rack. “Hi, I’m Tom, fith year,” he said with a chuckle. “It’s my victory lap!” He asked why I decided to go across the country to attend UVic. “The brochure had surfers on the cover,” I said. He laughed and told me you can’t surf in Victoria but told me about his stories Tofino. Before I knew it the shiny UVic sign was passing by the window.

In all the adventures I have been on and all the places in the world I have been, this is my favourite travel moment. Because this is when I needed a friend the most.

My best travel story has to be when I went to France w/ my family, wife and 9 month old son. First stop was Paris. We were in awe of how beautiful Paris was from the buildings, art, people, culture. And the food was to die for.

Our favourite day was when we went to the Louvre. We toured the museum, rode the ferris wheel then bought some bread and wine and ended the day with a picnic at the garden.

Then we headed to Nice. Touring small towns and walking the beach was a fun experience. It was a lot more laid back compared to Paris but it was nice to have that mix during our vacation.

I have had many memorable travel stories, but one similar to yours.

After graduating college for the first time I went on a trip to Peru. One highlight was hiking the Inca trail and seeing Machu-Pichu. The night before we began the hike My Crohns condition flaired up. I was hopeful that it might just be a mild reaction to some food I had eaten that night.

The next morning I decided that the flair-up might pass, so I decided to start the multi-day hike. That night the Crohns flair-up got a bit worse, but It wasn’t bad enough I could not hike, I thought. I did not turn back to base camp with one of the tour leaders on my trip. I decided to push on. Which might not have been a great decision because that day my flair-up got considerablly worse. I was lagging behind the rest of the people on the tour as we hiked high into higher elevations.

Eventually I got so sick that I asked the local tour guide to see if I could be trasported out from the trail and mountains. The only way outwas was by helicopter. She dispatched the parks first aid attendants, who came to see how bad I was. They again said the only way out was by helicopter. I would have to hike to the launch pad, a few hours away. I slowly put one foot in front of another and walked on till I reached the launch pad. All the way the medical team members accompanying me found natural plants alongside the trail for me to ingest.

Eventually we reached the launch pad. It was very cloudy and raining with a low fog line. I was told I would have to wait until the sun came out for the helicopter to land. The local tour guide and I waited by the pad for a few hours as I quietly groaned as th pain i felt in my abdominal region got worse.

After a few hours, I knew that I would be unlikely that I was going to be medicated out anytime soon, And the thought of going to a Peruvian hospital (not knowing what they are like) terrified me.

The local tour guide informed me that it was only a few hours hike to our nights camping spot and the next day was only a few hours or half day hike to Matchu-Pichu and then the Hike was over and soon I would be in a large city with medical and pharmaceutical care.

I had a crucial decision to make. Hike on or stay and wait, possibly many hours, for the helicopter to arrive. I thought long and hard and decided to hike the rest of the days trail. My choose was slowly hike while in excruciating pain, along with other side effects I will not go into as they are kind of gross, or wait an undetermined amount of time for the medi-helicopter.

I decided to move on to the nights base camp. I could not see how things could get worse. For many reasons This was a great decision. I got to see machu-pichu at sunrise, which is one of the most beautiful site in the world. I also came to realize that I can overcome anything. No obstacle too great. I also know how that I can push though any physical limitations I might have because of my Crohns and arthritis conditions.

The story gets even more interesting as the last leg of my trip, or hike, the medical personal that were accompanying me disappeared suddenly and in their place were two armed soldiers. They were quite polite, but said that if I died or got really sick its not the states fault and if i kicked up a fuss, they would make sure to eliminate that fuss quickly. This made me kind of worried. and rightly so. But tensions were quickly eased as unknowing lee to me I was wearing a T-shirt I had got when I was enrolled in the Canadian Armed forces basic training. So when I took of the sweater I was wearing, The t-sity underneath displayed an silhouette of an army soldier with a rifle and other militaristic pictures and emblems. The two Peruvian soldier just started to laugh. A big tough soldier like me (hardly) reduced to nothing from a little (not really little, more like HUGE) hike in the Andes Mountains. Tensions eased.

Now that is my most memorable holiday story.

2001. Myself and 3 other guys travelled to New Zealand to race in their National Mountain Bike series in the downhill category. Suffice to day having only 5 races in 9 weeks, there was plenty of other shenanigans.

Most importantly though are the people we met and spent time with. Of all the travelling I have done over the years for both cycling and skiing I never came across people who made you feel the way others are supposed to make each other feel.

Often Canadians are noted for being laid back and welcoming…and we are. But I will tell you that those 9 weeks assured there is a country that takes to a notch higher.

As I was 25 and all kinds of wild there are some amazing and hilarious stories…alas I am now 36 and in a position where those days may not reflect well upon me! 😉

But catch me over a beer and hour to kill and I’ll share the best ones for sure!

That should have been t-shirt, not t-sity. OH MY!

I think it was probably getting caught on a beach in Mexico with a boy, when I was 18. We were being naughty and got caugh by the Mexican polce! We had to give him all our money not to be arrested. It was a long walk back to the hotel that night, let me tell ya.

My best travel memory, coincidentally, was Christmas dinner during a vacation to Thailand many years ago when I was only 16 years old. Though not by any means wealthy, my grandmother is very generous and treated all of her children, their spouses and her grandchildren (12 of us in total!), to this very memorable trip. Christmas dinner was held in a meeting room of a small, Thai run hotel were were at that also happened to be the only Jewish hotel in all of Bangkok. (Long story how we ended up there; nobody in my family is Jewish – Grandma though is a practicing Catholic). A few days before Christmas day, Grandma placed her order for the meal, and, with her gift for gab, cheerfully embarked on a long explanation of the significance of Christmas to the good-natured Thai staff. They (the staff) ended up preparing the best Christmas dinner I have ever had; a fully authentic Thai spread with noodles, fresh fish and wonderfully fragrant and spicy sauces. The decorations however, were the most memorable. You can imagine our shock and amusement when first walking into the room and experiencing the “Christmas decor” which consisted of numerous lively and very colourful, “Happy Birthday to Jesus Christ” signs and decorations spanning the table and hanging off the ceiling and walls! It was by far the best (and funniest) Christmas dinner I’ve ever had!

My girlfriend surprised me with a trip to the Thompson-Okanagan after she won it on Hummingbird604’s blog! WOO!

Best Travel Story:
I had been living in Kuching on the island of Borneo, with my boyfriend, when we got invited to our first social event. It was an expat event called a Hash. A Hash is where you run through the jungle following a trail of toilet paper, yelling ‘on on’ with a bunch of Brits, and then chug beer afterwards. The Hash was actually quite fun, we were stoked to have met some friends, so when we got invited to the ‘after party’, we quickly agreed. We had the address…ish…so when we got to the right neighbourhood and saw a guy hauling flats of beer into a house, we just assumed that was the party. I was wearing running shorts and t-shirt and absolutely covered in mud. I didn’t bring a change of clothes, but the crowd at the Hash didn’t seem too picky so I wasn’t concerned with my attire. My boyfriend did have a change of clothes so he changed in the car, while I chased into the party after the beer.
I entered the house and it was awesome! Grand piano, white leather couches, and a really nice butler at the door. He saw me, smiled and then directed me to the outdoor patio where he said there was food. Excellent, I was hungry from the run so I eagerly followed his directions to the patio. As soon as I got onto the patio I began to realize that something is off. But living in a totally different country I chalked it up to just being in a different place, and having a different experience.
Once I got onto the patio, I thought to myself: ‘I didn’t realize how many Malay men were at the Hash …and WOW do they ever dress up for Hash after party.’ Before I could think, I was ushered to an empty seat and offered peanuts and a Sprite. Everyone was staring at me smiling and nodding their heads politely, so I sipped my Sprite and ate a handful of peanuts. I was about to grad another handful of peanuts when all of a sudden all 20+ men at the table jumped onto their feet and this VERY decorated man in uniform came through the patio doors, while everyone applauded. That is when ‘WRONG EVENT’ rang out loud and clear and I slowly stood up and walked out off the patio, and then ran back to the car. My boyfriend was doubled over laughing trying to say that he saw the Diplomatic Entourage pull up and thought I would realize and come out…might be one reason he is not my husband now!
Anyways lots of laughs over that one.

My best travel story actually spans about six months. In my third year of Uni, I was given the opportunity to do a semester abroad .. in Helsinki, Finland!

Those six months there made me who I am today, as cheesy as that sounds. It opened my eyes up to life outside of Vancouver and I met international people with whom I remain friends today. I was fortunate to live with a Polish girl, a Belgian girl and an Icelandic girl. I can proudly say that I’ve now been to all 3 of those countries and experienced them from a local perspective. I am so lucky to have this!

I not only learned another aspect of my craft while in Finland, I made some memories and friends. That was five years ago and without those six months, I may have never gotten the travel bug and may have never learned how to let go and live 🙂

I haven’t done a lot of travelling, but the small journeys I have taken include a four day work trip to San Juan, Argentina; 7 days in St. John’s, NFLD; constant mini trips to Reno, Nevada; 6 months living at Copper Point, Yukon; family visits to Arizona and California; being a tourist through Egypt and London, but my best travel story is the first time I went travelling by myself, for myself.

I booked my ticket to Waikiki, Ohau, Hawaii, in January 2007 and was on a plane 4 weeks later for a 10 day romantic vacation for one. I stayed 6 nights in a hostel and 3 nights in a hotel.

On the plane I literally had a moment where I thought I was going to burst with excitement. I had finally to take care of me and go on my own adventure. I spent my time wisely, reading a book on the beach, visiting the farmer’s market, seeing the memorial at Pearl Harbour and climbing Diamond Head. I met interesting people staying in the hostel and some whom I keep in contact to this day.

It was the first trip by myself. A romantic trip for one. I realized, while standing at the top of Diamond Head looking out into the never ending Pacific Ocean, that I wanted to see the world. And even though by myself I can have all the great adventures I could want. Nothing beats sharing it with someone. Three years later I have found someone to love and who loves me. I am now looking forward to creating a “best travel story” adventure with them.

Anyone who is an identical twin can relate to the ‘twintimacy’ of having someone know what you’re thinking, how you are feeling, and such, without even having to talk to them. My sister and I share that special bond and had spent all 22 years of our life together. Summer camps and trips with family to Osoyoos, Hawaii and California were all experienced together. So, when the time came for us to spread our wings at the age of 22, we both decided to go on a trip that included bible school and a mission trip. I headed to Hawaii, New Zealand, and Fiji, and my sister headed to Australia and East Timor. We were apart for 6 months, the longest ever seperation. While we were apart, we made friends that only knew each of us as individuals, not as a pair, which was exhilerating. We were never confused for one another. However, we also missed each other a lot and when I found out my sister was ill in Australia, I was sad I could not be there. She eventually came home to Vancouver and was in the hospital. I flew home from Hawaii, quite concerned. By the time I got home she was home from the hospital and seemed to be doing better. As I took out the gift that I had given her from my travels, a colourful tank top which said ‘Sistah’, she began to cry. At first I kind of wondered what that was about, but I soon knew right away. She went upstairs to retrieve her bag, and pulled out the exact same tank top, bought from a surf shop in Australia. In both cases, they were the only shirt left on the rack! I guess while we both experienced a lot of wonderful things while travelling, we both realized that we were never far from each other’s hearts. We are both 32 now, and I would love to travel together with my sister to the Okanagan, a place we enjoyed so much as children. Together!

UPDATE – I wish I had had 62 packages to give away, unfortunately I only had one. And the lucky winner of this package is (randomly drawn winner from all entries into the contest) Amy Moureau, in Edmonton (AB). Congratulations!