It's a Small World After All!

No matter how far I go, Macon always finds me.

Once, while in Rome, it began to rain, so my travel partner and I ducked into a quaint wine bar, only to discover that the couple next to us, also escaping the rain, were from Macon. Another time, during an eight-hour layover in Salt Lake City, I sampled local beers at every airport bar (some of them twice!).  At the last bar, the bartender asked where we were from. When I said Macon, she pointed to the man next to me, who was also from Macon. I even ended up sitting next to him on the plane.  I have several more stories just like this...
Macon always reminds me of home, even during my time in the remote village of Puerto Viejo de Talamanca in Costa Rica.

My flight was delayed stateside, and I arrived in San Jose, Costa Rica, too late to catch a bus to Puerto Viejo. Luckily, I found a nearby hotel, got some rest, and had a hot meal.
The next morning, I paid extra for a shared shuttle ride on the five-hour trek. The shuttle took us across flatlands, dense jungles, and winding mountain roads with waterfalls sometimes streaming across our path. We stopped for a break at a small cantina halfway through our journey. At one point, Costa Rican military boarded the shuttle with machine guns and bullet belts, which was quite unnerving.

A few hours past sunset, after every other passenger had been dropped off at their well-lit hotels, the driver stopped on a dirt road in the middle of the jungle. He said, "Here’s your stop," opened the doors, and set my suitcase at the edge of the dirt road. I looked at him, confused and a little alarmed. I said, "But where do I go?" He replied, "That way," and pointed up the dark dirt road. I looked at him with apprehension, and he chuckled and said, "You’ll make it; you can’t miss it."

So, I made my way down the dirt road and turned onto a path that led to Greenwoods Hostel. The path was neatly set with small stones and various coins from around the world—the "path of wishes." I wound through palm trees and bamboo to arrive at a two-story house that looked ramshackle but artistically handcrafted.

There were two figures on the porch as I approached, with a lump in my throat and my heart beating fast. I stepped up to the porch to find a couple waiting for me. The man was holding a guitar. I was about to introduce myself when he said, "Are you... the girl from Macon?!" I asked, "You know where Macon is?!?!" He said, "Yeah, man, that’s where the Big House is! We love the Allman Brothers." He talked like the dude from Cheech and Chong, you know the one. "We’ve been waiting for you all evening; really since yesterday, we thought you were gonna be here then."

I smiled in shocked amusement as many thoughts ran through my head. Truth be told, it felt serendipitous and dispelled any fear I had at the moment. What were the chances that, of all the hostels in Costa Rica, I would end up at this one? It felt like confirmation that I was where I was meant to be. I wasn’t in Macon anymore, but I suddenly felt very much at home.

Their names were Dan and Alicia. They were from Canada but had long ago left the hard winters for this year-round summer paradise. They lived simply, off the land, and built their home from foraged materials. You could hear the ocean waves from the porch, and Dan played in a band at the local cantina, Tasty Waves, mostly playing Allman Brothers songs. Dan played a different song for me almost every day for the month I was there and always asked me to sing at Tasty Waves (I moonlight as a singer/songwriter) or at least attend a show.

I had vowed to stay on the straight and narrow while obtaining my 200-hour yoga teaching certificate. I was there for a rigorous training program at a jungle ashram with 15-hour days, six days a week, and 7-hour practice on the seventh day. I had vowed to abstain from nearly everything a person can to fully immerse myself in yoga. Between that and having little spare time, I couldn’t join Dan at Tasty Waves but came to greatly enjoy his daily serenades.

 As I reflect on these experiences, I realize that each path I've taken—whether down a rain-soaked street in Rome, through an airport in Salt Lake City, or along a dirt road in the Costa Rican jungle—has brought me unexpected connections and reminders of home. From meeting fellow Maconites abroad to finding a sense of belonging with strangers, my journey has been a series of serendipitous encounters that guided me along my path. At Greenwoods Hostel, the "path of wishes" led me to a place where I felt an unexpected but profound connection. Despite my commitments to yoga and the rigorous training schedule, I found a harmonious balance between discipline and the joy of new friendships. These paths, both literal and metaphorical, have woven together a tapestry of experiences that remind me that no matter how far I wander, I am always on the right path, finding pieces of home and self-discovery along the way.

Join me on my next adventure: an all-inclusive 5-night/6-day spa yoga retreat in the Dominican Republic! This package includes flights, travel insurance, drinks, meals, spa treatments, ocean spa boat excursions, club-level accommodations, and more, starting at just $2,500 per person. Contact Amber at Classy Destinations 478-812-TRIP!