I love the idea of a community without borders—where people live together in peace and harmony, close to nature, guided by holistic ideals. Just a short drive from Pondicherry in Tamil Nadu, South India, lies Auroville, a community that strives to turn this vision into reality. I’ve visited twice, each time exploring different projects that reflect its unique spirit.

Building a home in Thailand is not only about design and construction—it is also about tradition. For generations, Thai families have followed spiritual rituals to ensure their houses are filled with good fortune and protected from misfortune. One of the most significant is the Main and Secondary Pillar Ceremony, known as Piti Sao Ehk Sao Toe.

If you’ve traveled enough, you’ve probably seen your fair share of national slogans. “Incredible India.” “Malaysia, Truly Asia.” “Amazing Thailand.” Bhutan, tucked between India and China in the Himalayas, takes a very different approach. Instead of chasing tourist numbers or GDP growth, the tiny kingdom decided to measure success by something far less conventional: happiness.

“I know a magical tree,” Khun Pean announced with the air of someone about to reveal a great secret. Two minutes later I found myself clinging to the back of his motorbike as we rattled through the countryside of Chiang Mai province in Northern Thailand. Our destination? A kratom adventure — my first, slightly bewildered step into the world of a leaf that has been medicine, mischief, and mild controversy all at once.

In the middle of the flat, green landscape of Northeast Thailand (Isaan), Wat Phu Tok rises dramatically as a solitary sandstone cliff. Travel with me to this hidden gem where nature and spirituality form one of the most fascinating places to visit in Isaan.

Thailand is a country that refuses to be neatly pinned down. Most travelers dash between the same greatest hits — Bangkok’s temples, Chiang Mai’s elephants, Phuket’s beach bars — without scratching the country’s itchier, weirder spots.

I’ve always been curious about different medical practices around the world. But nothing — absolutely nothing — could have prepared me for the Ayurvedic massage I experienced in Pondicherry, India.

I was in a dusty little shop in Thamel, Kathmandu, looking for snacks and toothpaste, when something strange caught my eye: “Mad Honey – Product of Nepal.” It looked like any regular jar of honey, but the label had a small warning symbol and one curious line: “Consume with care.”

What do you do when you land in Kuala Lumpur in the middle of the night, dead tired and completely broke? That’s not a rhetorical question. I know exactly what you do — because I’ve done it. And let me tell you, it’s not pretty.

I was drawn into a world of Thai-boxing monks riding horses through the golden hills near the Myanmar border—rescuing orphans, teaching dharma, and helps build healthy communities in a region deeply affected by drug trafficking.

Cultural relativism invites you to travel with open eyes and an open heart. Every culture holds wisdom — not just in its grand philosophies, but in the way people grow food, raise children, handle silence, celebrate, grieve, and make sense of the world. With this lens, you won’t just return with souvenirs — you’ll come home with insights you won’t find in any Western textbook.

Somewhere between the back alleys of Bangkok and the bamboo hills of northern Laos, I lost something. Or maybe I found it. Myself, perhaps? Or the self I used to be. Either way, I never came home the same.

"Hey you! What are you looking for? Taxi? Maybe a cute girl?" A local guy materializes from an alley in Da Nang, Vietnam. I had planned a quiet night of Vietnamese potato chips and bad hotel Wi-Fi. The universe had other ideas.

If the gods of gastronomy were to throw a dinner party, I’m fairly sure the Thai kitchen would be responsible for the menu—a fever dream of lime leaves, chili heat, fermented funk, and coconut calm. Eating in Thailand isn’t just a way to refuel. It’s a full-contact sport, a ritual, a social glue, and occasionally a dare.

This is the story of a journey through five of India’s Seven Sisters. Of rice wine toasts and jungle bathrooms, of mountain roads, roadside wisdom, and sacred traditions whispered over campfires.

I woke to the sound of Kong’s voice outside my window. Kong is my neighbor and one of the few people in the village who speaks a bit of English. He’s also taken it upon himself to be my unofficial cultural translator. (You’ll hear more about him. Think of him as my spiritual guide through mud and chili sauce.)

Imagine this: You're deep in the Laos countryside, far from the comfort of civilization, when your stomach sends out a distress signal—loud, urgent, and non-negotiable. Yesterday’s suspiciously spicy soup is staging a full-blown revolution. If you don’t act now, you’re going to crap your pants. What do you do?

I went to South Korea and Jeju Island on a scientific conference in 2015. And I loved Jeju so much that I extended my stay to explore more. Jeju Island is where nature whispers, the wind sings, and everything feels just a little more alive.

In a world where opposing concepts often seem to stand in contrast to one another, there sometimes emerges the fascinating phenomenon known as beautiful destruction. This inspiring concept explores the complex beauty that can arise even in what appears to be chaos and ruin.

Viktor Frankl´s perspectives have been a great inspiration for me. You can control how you think and feel. This is the most liberating realization in life.