4 Big Lessons I’ve Learned from 4 Months of Blogging

January 16, 2018 By sugwueze Leave a Comment

The 4 Biggest Lessons I’ve Learned From 4 Months of Blogging

Four months into my blogging journey, it’s time for a report card. I made a commitment to myself back in September that I would never go to a job interview again. I have always dreaded coming up with answers to questions like ‘Why should I hire you?’ and ‘Tell me about a time when you went above and beyond to help your team.’ Well, teamwork was never my cup of tea so I became my own boss.

5 Self-Limiting Beliefs I Overcame through Solo Travel

November 14, 2017 By sugwueze 16 Comments

5 Self-Limiting Beliefs I Crushed While Traveling Solo

Looking out into the horizon at the Cliffs of Moher — Cliffs of Moher, Ireland

Do you know the quickest destroyers of hopes and dreams?

Self-limiting beliefs. Everyone has them. They are those pesky little voices in your head replaying negative affirmations nonstop. They tell you that you’re not smart enough. That you’re going to fail. They make you second guess your worth, your decisions, and your ambitions. I’ve been there.

In fact, my self-limiting beliefs talked me out of writing this post for a while. I thought, ‘Who do I think I am writing about self-improvement? I’m not a wellness coach or a therapist. Why should anyone care what I have to say?’

I brushed those thoughts aside and continued to write. I was getting tired of second-guessing myself so I decided to just write this darn thing! I may not be a therapist, but I’ve learned a few things about overcoming self-limiting beliefs through experience. Solo travel has been the key to overcoming the worst of them. Alone on the road for weeks, I learned that I was more resourceful and capable than I thought. I want to share my experience to hopefully inspire you to challenge your own self-limiting beliefs so they can stop holding you back.

Self-Limiting Belief #1: I am not outgoing enough.

Since childhood, I’ve been introverted and somewhat shy. I became even more shy after moving to America at age nine. Because I struggled to make friends, I usually kept to myself. I’m a native English speaker, but I still had no clue what the other kids in my 5th grade class were talking about half the time. They also thought that I, the new girl from Africa, was kind of odd. For a couple of years, I felt invisible and unwanted.

Although I now have a solid circle of friends, I still harbor this lingering belief that I am not good at socializing. When I first started traveling solo, I was worried that I’d be alone. I felt that I wouldn’t be able to strike up a conversation with other travelers. I’d be sitting in a restaurant by myself, and the other diners would think I was a loner or a loser or both.

The reality was the complete opposite. Traveling solo around Europe, I made more friends than I had back in California. I made friends at hostels, on trains, randomly on the streets, and during walking tours and pub crawls – basically in every situation imaginable. I found myself letting go of the ‘quiet, anti-social’ persona that I had come to believe was my nature. It wasn’t. I’m actually a pretty social person. I genuinely enjoy meeting new people. This realization has made me more excited and less nervous about talking to strangers.

Self-Limiting Belief #2: I keep making bad decisions. This will be another disaster.

I like to say that between 2011 and 2014 I made more mistakes than in the previous 20 years of my life. Failed classes in college? Check. Lost jobs? Check. Broke and directionless? Check. Those failures took a toll on my self-confidence and made me feel hopeless. I constantly compared myself to my friends, who all seemed to be doing better than me professionally.

Then I packed my bags and moved to Madrid, Spain to teach English and travel. I thought I was making a reckless decision but was too depressed to care. Spain had been calling my name. In the back of my mind, though, I was thinking ‘Shouldn’t I try to get a real job?’ I was already behind professionally. Moving abroad would set me back even more. What I didn’t know was that teaching English abroad would inspire me to become a travel writer. It would connect me with other independent minds living life on their own terms. It would give me the courage to look beyond a traditional 9 to 5 and find work that suits my nomadic spirit. Here I am two years later getting paid to write about my travels and moving closer to making it my full-time career.

No, moving to Spain was not a bad decision. It did not set me back at all. In fact, it gave me direction and purpose. I look back on that move as one of the boldest and smartest actions I’ve ever taken.

Palacio Real in Madrid, Spain — Madrid, where I called home for nearly a year

Somto at the beach in Palma de Mallorca, Spain — Palma de Mallorca, Spain

Somto looking out in the distance in Spain — A Coruna, Spain

Self-Limiting Belief #3: I’m too nice. People will take advantage of me.

My mom used to say that I should toughen up or else I would be crushed by this mean world. Compared to my no-nonsense, assertive twin sister, I’m easygoing and gentle. In Nigerian culture, that can be seen as a sign of weakness. Surviving in Nigeria is really hard so you need to be tough and even ruthless to make it. Being nice just doesn’t cut it.

After trying to toughen up with no success. I realized that I couldn’t just change my personality at the snap of a finger. So I stopped trying. Then I traveled solo. No one took advantage of me. In fact, most people I met were more than willing to go out of their way to help me. In Paris, a 40-something Danish man bought me a train ticket when I was struggling to work the machine. I was suspicious. What did he want from me? Nothing, actually. It was just plain old kindness. There is still a lot of that in the world.

Self-Limiting Belief #4: I’m too indecisive. I need someone to help me make a choice.

If you’ve ever gone out to lunch with me, you’ll know that I can take forever to make up my mind. I’ve started to look at menus before going out to eat to save time. Given my indecisiveness, I was worried that if I traveled solo I would waste a lot of time trying to decide what to do and end up not doing much.

Wrong! Case in point: during my three day solo trip to Germany and Austria, I…

1) Had a few pints at Spring Fest (the spring version of Octoberfest) in Munich.
2) Toured the Sound of Music filming locations in Salzburg.
3) Got lost at the Salzburg Fortress (it took me a good 45 minutes to find the exit.)
4) Visited the Dachau Concentration Camp.
5) Visited Mozart’s birthplace.
6) Ate wienerschnitzel for the first time.
7) Fell in love with German wheat beer.

There was no indecisiveness at all. I am a planner so I mapped everything out ahead of time. Once I got to my destination, I was constantly on the move. Solo travel can help you become more proactive. Everything is up to you so you have to take charge. You learn to trust your intuition and your decision-making process.

The front of Mozart's birthplace — Mozart’s birthplace in Salzburg, Austria

The entrance to the Dachau Concentration Camp — The entrance to Dachau

Self-Limiting Belief #5: I can’t find directions to save my life.

This one is kind of true. Remember that I got lost at the fortress in Salzburg? But solo travel made me realize that I wasn’t as directionally challenged as I had thought. About 90% of the time, I knew exactly where I was going. In 22 days, I traveled through the U.K., Croatia, Italy, and Greece. I didn’t get lost even once! I was so proud of myself.

The bottom line is that traveling solo forced me to confront myself in the most unfiltered way. I couldn’t hang onto the comfort of my friends or siblings. It was just me and the beliefs in my head. I learned that I am a resourceful, strong-willed lady who can do things for herself. When those self-limiting beliefs creep up, I remind myself of those times when I traveled solo like a boss.

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Nigerian Homecoming – A Tribute to My Late Grandpa

November 2, 2017 By sugwueze Leave a Comment

In the Igbo language, Ikemefuna means ‘may my strength not be lost.’ That was the name aptly given to my late grandfather, Raymond Okafor, a man whom I greatly admire and whose exemplary life I strive to emulate. At the tender age of 20, as the story goes, he trekked hundreds of miles from his ancestral village of Umuaji Ngbagbuowa in southeastern Nigeria to the bustling commercial city of Onitsha, where he set up a thriving furniture business. Hence, he was affectionately known as Papa Onitsha.

“He built the first zinc house in all of Umuaji,” my mother often reminds my two siblings and me, beaming with pride.

In a village filled with thatched roofs and makeshift buildings, Papa Onitsha envisioned a new type of architecture, a multi-story house with a zinc roof, and turned it into a reality. At a time when people saw education as a priority for males, he insisted that my mother receive the best education possible, sending her to a top grammar school and later to university. He instilled in her the importance of hard work and tenacity, values she has subsequently instilled in me and my siblings.

Papa Onitsha, left, and his brother, Obu, at their village, Umuaji Ngbagbuowa, in the 60s

Papa Onitsha and Mama Onitsha posing after a dance in the 1970s — Papa Onitsha and Mama Onitsha at a dance festival in the 70s

In some ways, Papa Onitsha’s long, treacherous journey in the 1950s was a foreshadowing of my own family’s journey to America. By a serendipitous miracle, my mother won a visa lottery out of thousands of applicants, and my family immigrated to the United States in 2001. I still vividly remember the night we left Nigeria even though I was only nine years old. Arriving at Murtala Mohammed Airport in Lagos, we said our final goodbyes to my uncle,

Papa Onitsha and Mama Onitsha carrying me and my twin sister at our baptism — Papa Onitsha and Mama Onitsha carrying my twin sister, Kosiso, and me at our baptism in the 90s. Our older brother, Chidubem, is at the center.

Papa Onitsha and my mom shaking hands at her college graduation — Papa Onitsha congratulates my mom, Uche, during her college graduation in the 80s

Anayo, and boarded a KLM flight to Amsterdam. It was the first time I had ever flown in an airplane. We made our way to Los Angeles, where we began our new lives.

It would be nine long years before we saw Papa Onitsha.

again. In 2010, my mom, my siblings, Chidubem and Kosiso, and I visited Nigeria for the first time since we moved to America. I like to say that those ten days in Nigeria were more eventful than the previous five years of my life. From escaping two kidnapping attempts to getting food poisoning, we experienced a series of unfortunate events. But reconnecting with loved ones whom I hadn’t seen in almost a decade made it all worthwhile. Seeing the faces of old friends, now all grown up, was priceless.

My aunt looks at her reflection in the window as she gets ready for church — My aunt, Martina, gets ready for church. She was one of Papa Onitsha’s main characters.

Yellow curtains covering the window at our house in Enugu — Inside my grandparent’s new house in Enugu, just down the street from my childhood home.

Driving from the capital, Abuja, to my hometown of Enugu, I realized just how beautiful my country was. It was almost like I was discovering it for the first time! There were enormous hills dotted with thick shrubs; miles of red earth were surrounded by lush greenery. The intersection of Nigeria’s two largest rivers, River Niger and River Benue, was a site to bold!

The meeting point of River Niger and River Benue was mesmerizing. Copyright Melitta Dennett

Upon arriving in Enugu, we found that Papa Onitsha’s health was deteriorating. His diabetes was at times unmanageable, requiring prolonged hospitalizations. But seeing his daughter and grandchildren for the first time in so long gave him so much joy you wouldn’t even know he was sick. We had so much to catch up on! Papa Onitsha, in his usual witty fashion, told us stories of the old days when he used to sell furniture in Onitsha. It was almost as if we had only been apart for nine days, not nine years.

Sitting with Papa Onitsha in enugu — My last photo with Papa Onitsha during my visit in 2014. His health had deteriorated rapidly, but he was still his usual, cheerful self.

The last time I saw Papa Onitsha was in 2014, during my family’s second visit to Nigeria. His health had deteriorated so badly that he was unable to stand for more than a few seconds. But he was still his witty, cheerful self, telling stories and jokes. That’s one of the qualities I admire about him: his ability to make those around him laugh even in difficult circumstances.

Papa Onitsha passed away on November 17, 2015, exactly 14 years after we moved to America. His funeral the next month, in keeping with Igbo tradition, was a celebration of life. There was a performance of traditional Ikorodo dance. Music filled the streets. People from far off places came to pay their respects. Even my former elementary school teacher, whom I hadn’t talked to in 10 years, came to the occasion. The passerby stopped to witness the farewell to one of Umuaji’s greatest sons. The occasion also marked the first time my entire immediate family had visited Nigeria at the same time.

A scene at the funeral with guests walking around — The funeral gets underway. Hordes of people came to pay their respects.

My brother dancing at the funeral — My brother shows off his dance moves. Funerals are a celebration in Igbo culture so there is a lot of dancing and singing.

Dancers perform the traditional Ikorodo dance at the funeral.

Musicians play traditional Igbo instruments – Igba, Ichaka, and Ogene.

School children walking in the streets of Enugu — School children walking home in my hometown, Enugu, where Papa Onitsha lived from 1999 to 2015.

A blue and white bus zips through the streets of Enugu — A typical bus in Enugu. The city is home to many traders and small business owners.

Construction workers doing work on the streets — Construction workers toiling away by a residential complex.

Ikemefuna, thank you for the incredible example you set for us, the stories you told, and the happiness you brought to our lives. Thank you for keeping me anchored to my Igbo heritage. Thank you for teaching me to see the bright side of life. You will never be forgotten.

This story first appeared in Safari254. It has been modified slightly from the original format.

The Wildest Ride: Exploring Cuba Amidst Hurricane Irma

September 23, 2017 By sugwueze 4 Comments

With Hurricane Irma brewing in the southern Caribbean, I had an important decision to make: continue with my trip to Cuba or cancel it, my family’s recommendation.

Havana had been calling my name for years! Fascinated by Celia Cruz and Afro-Cuban culture, I dreamed of strolling through the streets of Old Havana and listening to the African-infused rhythms of salsa. I wanted to sit in an open terrace restaurant, devouring some ropa vieja and yucca frita. Basically, I had been having a love affair with this island for a while.

So the decision wasn’t actually too hard: let’s go! When it comes to travel, I can be impulsive, throwing reason out the window in favor of instant gratification. It was Tuesday morning, and Irma was projected to hit Cuba on Saturday. Eager to justify my decision, I reasoned that I had enough of a time window to evade the hurricane. In the worst-case scenario, I would move up my departure flight. [Read more…] about The Wildest Ride: Exploring Cuba Amidst Hurricane Irma

Solo Travel Safety: How I Dealt With a Stalker in Croatia

September 1, 2017 By sugwueze 10 Comments

How I Fought Off a Stalker in Dubrovnik, Croatia

I sat at the entrance to Dubrovnik’s Old Town, eating some vanilla ice cream to cope with the July heat. Blissfully watching tourists walk by, I could never have imagined the nightmare that would follow.

The afternoon sun was melting my ice cream so I hurried to finish it up. I was also eager to get started on my first planned activity: a tour of the city walls. It was only my second day in the medieval Croatian city, but I was already in love! Dubrovnik reminded me of those idyllic oil paintings of the Mediterranean. It seemed to be a perfect travel destination for a solo female traveler.

The Nightmare Begins

I was about to get up when a 50-something-year-old man approached me out of nowhere. He was dressed in khaki shorts, a Hawaiian shirt, and dark sun shades.

“Hey, what’s your name?” he asked

“Um, Sheila,” I lied. Well, Sheila’s actually my middle name.

“I was looking at you and was wondering… Are you by yourself?”

“No, I’m waiting for some friends.”

That wasn’t entirely a lie either. I had coincidentally arrived in Dubrovnik at the same time as my Croatian-American friends from college, Cody and Clay. We had had dinner the night before, along with their friend Ting, and planned to meet up again later in the day. For now, I was going to explore the city on my own.

“Oh, okay,” he continued in a broken accent, “While you wait I can take you out to lunch, get to know you a little better. I like dark-skinned girls. Very beautiful.”

“No, thank you,” I retorted, “I’m not interested.”

“Are you sure? I’ll take you to a fine restaurant. The best Croatian food. You’ll like it.” he insisted.

“No, I’m okay. Really.” I said, walking away.

I power walked through the gate into the Old Town, arriving at Dubrovnik’s Main Street, Stradun. Then I looked around to find the ticket vendor for the city wall tour.

Spotting the little shop, I went over and purchased my ticket. Then I came back towards the city gate to join the line for the tour. He was standing by the line, staring directly at me!

“Will you change your mind?” he asked

“No! I’m not interested! Leave me alone!” I replied, feeling agitated.

The other tourists began to stare so he reluctantly walked away as I joined the line for the tour. I tried my best to cool down, dismissing him as a nuisance.

I walked the city’s stone walls, following a path at the top of the structure. The elevation provided spectacular views of Dubrovnik’s orange-roofed buildings and the surrounding Mediterranean Sea.

It took me about 45 minutes to walk the entire wall. Then I climbed back down to Stradun and headed in the direction of my hostel. This time I was more vigilant, looking at my surroundings. He didn’t show up again so I breathed a sigh of relief.

I stopped for a quick bite and drinks at a beach bar nearby then headed back to my hostel to freshen up. After taking a quick nap, I met up with Cody and Clay for dinner. The rest of the evening was pure bliss – eating cevapi, having a laugh, and touring Game of Thrones filming locations.

The next day, my last full day in Dubrovnik, was also without problems. I met up with Cody, Clay, and Ting again, and we took a ferry to nearby Lokrum Island, where peacocks were roaming everywhere. Afterward, we went bar hopping in Lapad then took the Dubrovnik Cable Car up to the highest point in the city, taking in the sunset.

The Final Encounter

The next morning, it was time to say goodbye to Dubrovnik. I packed my bag and headed to catch the bus to the airport.

As I passed Pile Bay, a small boating dock close to my hostel, I spotted him. Again!

“Why you don’t give me chance? You think I’m going to do something bad to you? I’m a nice guy. I just want to treat you to lunch. That’s all.”

“Get away from me! Get out of here!” I was fuming.

“Are you going to the airport? I can give you a ride. Just give me chance. I’m really sad that you don’t give me chance. Do you think I’m a bad guy.”

Exasperated, I stormed off. I was leaving so now there was no need to argue anymore.

“Really? You won’t give me chance at all?” I heard him say from a distance.

Unamused, I kept walking.

Soon, I caught my bus, got to the airport, and caught my flight. As I flew to my next destination, Greece, I reflected on that encounter and wondered if I had handled it well. Was he a nuisance or a serious threat? Should I have gone to the police? What would I have told the police?

Although this experience was unsettling, it has not deterred me from solo travel. There are risks. However, the vast majority of people I’ve encountered have been more than pleasant. This was my first and only negative experience as a solo female traveler.

What would you have done if you were in my shoes? Have you experienced a similar mishap while traveling solo? Share your thoughts in the comment section below.

Solo Female Travel Tips: Positano, Italy

August 12, 2017 By sugwueze 15 Comments

How To Experience Positano, Italy as a Female Solo Traveler

As I stood at the top of a hill opposite Positano’s iconic cliffside, I felt like I was in a dream. I thought to myself, ‘This has to be the most beautiful place I’ve ever seen in my life!’ Colorful bungalows and villas were perched on the cliff, stacked upon one another in an asymmetrical fashion. The houses cascaded down to the base of the cliff, a pebble stone beach. There is a saying that when people from the Amalfi Coast go to heaven, they will not notice any difference. I don’t remember where I heard that, but my experience driving to Positano and exploring its hilly landscape makes me believe it 100%. Positano’s ethereal beauty and maze-like landscape make it the perfect place for a solo female traveler to wander for a few days. Here’s what you can expect on a solo trip to Positano.

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