I recently found myself traveling through India with a few other women. For our first full day in Goa, we had hired a taxi to take us from our luxurious hotel high in the hills to one of the beautiful beaches below. The roads were bustling with other cars, trucks, pedestrians, animals, scooters, and bikes. We swerved as our driver avoided the many obstacles that presented themselves. With a mixture of nervousness and excitement, I enjoyed the ride and observing all that we passed. At one point we rode next to a young woman on a scooter, I watched her hair blow gently in the wind and envisioned myself as her. I turned and told the other women with me that I wanted to ride a scooter. I was determined to make that happen and I did. Fast forward to later that afternoon and I was riding on the back of a scooter with a new friend. I hardly knew this guy and yet when he said he had a scooter I asked without hesitation if I could ride on it with him. The gentle Goan breeze flowed through my hair as I grasped the back of the bike with a smile on my face. Every bump in the road was felt and as we bounced over them jolting our bodies. I caught sight of a purple scooter and remembered the last time I drove a motorized bike in a foreign place. I was traveling in Amsterdam during Queens Day two years ago and met a dutch male model at one of the outdoor concerts in the streets. He was completely obnoxious which actually made him very entertaining to be around. He owned a pastel purple vespa and after making fun of him for it, I had asked if I could drive it. He obliged and as I drove through the streets of Amsterdam I smiled thinking how funny it was that I was on a vespa with a male model in Europe. It was something I couldn't have dreamed up and now, here I was, on another scooter in another foreign place. I was exactly where I wanted to be. Fully and completely content in the moment. Was it dangerous? perhaps. Unwise? perhaps. Completely worth it? absolutely.
