Author: Meghan Casey

Born in raised in Alberta, Canada, Meghan couldn't wait to make her mark on the world. Having already traveled through 20 countries and lived in 3 at the prime age of 19, it's safe to say she's not turning back. Driven by her studies in Applied Linguistics and Professional Writing, Meghan's turned to capturing her rare moments in travel with a pad of paper in one hand and a pen poised in the other. You can read more by Meghan on her blog at www.suitcaseofdreams.blogspot.com

The sun still shedding its scorching rays reflects off the emerald water like a thousand dancing stars. Strolling down the seaside promenade, a whistling sound in the distance causes me crane my neck and I strain my ears to better capture the sound. As I near the source, the whistling intensifies into a rolling assembly of harmonious delight. I glance around the Nova Riva, now fully submersed in the low, undulating pull of this tune, …

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Monte-what? Referred to time and time again as the “Black Mountain,” Montenegro is a tick-tack sized country squeezed smack dab in the middle of the Adriatic bordering states. Just a thumbtack on the map of Europe, but full to the brim with exquisite landscapes, Montenegro leaves you wondering how this tall drink of water is often overlooked when discussing Europe’s Fave Five.

First mentioned in the 9th century as a Byzantine vassal, the country …

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Rubble and debris crunch under my feet as I step over the remnants of a three-year war. Looking out through a windowless frame of the ruined Dom Policije Vranjače (Police House originally used as a vacation home for police officers and later as a vantage point for intruding Serbian forces), I can feel the weight of a thick fog lingering above the city. From here, atop the Trebević Mountain that still houses the 1984 Winter …

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The call to prayer slices through the breaking horizon with a single elongated chord. Berbers rise from their beds and take to their dust worn prayer mats where their day of devotion once again begins. The incense is lit, releasing streams of white smoke; the smell of religion hangs like a plump cloud. Slowly the market comes to life as the vendors, their white jallaba robes stained red from the earth, haggle over their colourful …

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Like any good fairy tale, a successful wedding comes out of the combined efforts of a wide range of players. From the decisions between a tiered cake or cupcakes, to handwritten or stamped invitations, to lace or floral print, every detail has its place. But long after the wedding bells have sung their song, you’re not going to remember analyzing your dinner plate’s design, or even the lace-adorned walls and windows. Instead, you’ll reminisce about …

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The term “Going Green” is one we’ve all heard. Reduce, reuse, and recycle, right? Well ,what about when you have a 20kg weight allowance and a very shallow pocket? I don’t know about you, but sorting plastic bottles and hauling old newspapers around isn’t part of my ideal backpacking trip. And then there’s the expense of being eco-friendly. Backpacking is practically a synonym for financial strain and as much as we may want to join …

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Dear Travel IQ: I’ve decided I would like to live abroad for a year. I’m not flush with cash, just nerve. What are my pennyless options?

Signed: Expat to be in Charleston, SC


Dear Expat:

We’ve all felt it: that longing sadness that sinks to the bottom of your stomach as you realize your dream vacation is coming to an end. Just as you thought you were getting a feel for the place, …

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Every summer, Irish Counties such as Mayo, Kerry, and Waterford celebrate the “Pattern,” or their Patron Saint feast days. Ardmore, a sea-side village in County Waterford, upholds the true Irish spirit of its yearly Pattern Festival with full pints and traditional Irish tunes.

Having been settled by St. Declan before the introduction of St. Patrick to the Emerald Isle, Ardmore is said to be Ireland’s oldest Christianised settlement. Aird Mhór, meaning Great Height, has been …

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Rumbling down the half-paved road in the wrong lane, I clutch to the shaking metal frame of my seat. Turbo-folk blares from the cracked speakers of the furgon’s dash and by this point, I’m humming along. With the window cracked just enough, there’s a breeze that squeaks its way onto the face of every sweat soaked passenger that have more or less become fused to their leather seats. A sudden jolt takes the entire van

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Twelve Dervish musicians sit hunched over their easels, the hem from their long black capes resting on the floor. In unison they begin to pluck the strings of their wooden instruments and tap the skin of their kettledrums. This marks the beginning of the ancient Sama ceremony. The first monk stands up, shedding his black cloak in a spiritual rebirth before crossing his arms against his chest, representing the number one, an interpretation of God’s …

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