I sliced my finger on the lid of a spaghetti sauce can last night which sent me into a tailspin of panic. Though painful and bloody, the cut was seemingly benign. Nothing that a few stitches and a tetanus shot couldn’t take care of. Yet my reaction was Oscar-worthy, rivaled only by the time I was dumped by my college sweetheart and slipped into a 2-month depression.

Since our move to Nicaragua, I’ve fallen down concrete hills, stepped on stingrays, and boarded down a volcano and survived, all of which resulted in memorable scars of our journey in Nicaragua. So why was this latest notch on my bedpost of injuries invoking such anxiety? The answer – I’m 5 months pregnant.

Justin struggled to understand my hysteria. As he fumbled thru the house in search of Band-aids and Bactine, I sobbed into the blood soaked towel wrapped around my finger and fretted about the possibility of a trip to the local Centro de Salud. Having only been there once before for an anti-parasite prescription, I conjured up visions of rusty needles and disgruntled nurses.

For winter break 2008, my parents, sister, and I went on a trip through Europe; one stop of particular note was Lisbon. I had been to Spain before, but never its Iberian neighbor, so I was excited, to say the least.

The first thing to note is: wear walking shoes. The roads in Lisbon were slippery from a lot of rain and I fell more than once down its damp cobblestone streets. The roads are also steep, so it takes some effort if you're doing a walking tour or hiking up to see the sights.

Also, you can get by with some Spanish. I found that Portuguese sounds a lot different than Spanish to my ears, but, now and then, I could pick up a word or two. It helps that the Portuguese themselves usually understand Spanish.

The nightlife there is remarkable. For one, there is no drinking age, so you can imbibe as much as you please. Even though I don't drink, it's still a fun atmosphere. Two, there are bars everywhere you look, filled to the brim with friendly people and cute guys.

Mint Tea, chickpeas roasted with Cumin, Berber whiskey on cold desert nights, headscarves and a very special discount for my neighbor from down in South Africa... A few weeks traveling through Morocco and these are a few things that have been imprinted in my mind.

A last minute decision to spend New Year's in the Erg Chigaga dunes of the Sahara in Berber tents in the heart of the desert was some of the best money I spent. It wasn't cheap but going with Sahara services meant that we drove in 4 x 4s, not buses, had an exquisite drive to M'hamid, and spent a night rockin' the Casbah with some fantastic fellow travelers before entering the vast golden desert.

The food was simple but full of flavor. I'd recommend the Berber omelet and a glass of Moroccan beer. The wine was not quite to my South African standards :)

At sunrise we were taught how to tie our headscarves, and we saddled up onto a camel to enter the desert in true style and luxury. (I'll leave out the comfort.

Honeymooning as a student posed quite the challenge: how could we experience the best of Paris without splurging on everything? Before our trip I did a lot of research for the best shopping secrets of Paris and I found that with the right information, you can find styles on a budget.

For keeping those feet up to date there are 3 stores that I found virtually all over Paris that sell the most current styles for 80€ and under, and 25-40€ if there's a sale: 1. André 2. Minelli 3. Jonak.

It is truly difficult finding even a stylish t-shirt in Paris for under 60€. I was pretty skeptical about going into Monoprix, which is similar to England's Marks & Spencers, where you can find clothing and food in the same location. I thought I'd find the kinds of shabby oversized clothes you'd find in a large supermarket, but I actually found some amazing pieces, like a flouncy 100% silk dress for 20€. You can also find French makeup brands there with prices around 6€ for an eyeliner.

We awoke before the sun's web-like rays had cradled the Kathmandu valley to venture an hour's drive away from the city.

Each minute seemed to take us leagues away from the metropolis. As we climbed higher up the roads, fog's dewey fingers clutched us closer and closer until we were so suffocated by its presence that the driver insisted we walk the remainder of the way.

Our destination was a restaurant that boasted jaw-dropping views. Hardly able to distinguish the front steps in such fog, we took their word for it and shuffled on towards breakfast. When we emerged from the dining hall an hour later, the fog had lifted and like the curtains at a grand opera, revealed the masterpiece that lay beyond: 180 degrees of majestic Himalayan mountains.

I remained paralyzed by their massive stature for several minutes before beginning a five-hour hike back down into Kathmandu Valley.

The wafts of solitude and fresh air made me realize how much stress has been lifted off my shoulders since leaving Colorado.

I recently spent two weeks in Australia. While it was late July, it was winter in Australia, meaning that flights were reasonably priced. Most of my two weeks were spent in Sydney, where I was lucky enough to have free lodging courtesy of a friend transferred to Sydney for work. In Sydney, winter means temperatures of fifty to sixty degrees and a good amount of rain.

In need of a warm spot, I headed up north to Cairns (pronounced Cannes) and Port Douglas, Queensland. It is a 3-hour flight from Sydney to Cairns. Port Douglas is an hour drive north of Cairns. Since stinger season (think giant jellyfish) in the summer months makes it dangerous to venture into the water, Australian winter is the perfect time to visit. The temperature was perfect - high seventies and low eighties with a nice ocean breeze.

I spent one day snorkeling and scuba diving in the Great Barrier Reef. The reef is located about a 2-hour boat ride from the coast. Many companies departing from both Cairns and Port Douglas offer full day boat excursions including meals, snorkeling and scuba gear, and tutorials.

I arrived in Utrecht in the Netherlands two weeks ago, gigantic suitcase in tow. I came to Holland knowing very little about the country. I pictured it as a pastoral landscape rife with tulips, windmills, and wooden shoes. But Dutch identity extends beyond these well-worn stereotypes.

Many people complain about Dutch food, deeming it primitive (most dishes consists of fried batter and cheese). But it tastes delicious, and I'm not complaining. They sell enormous cones of french fries in the street, and many people eat them with globs of mayonnaise. Stroopwafel is another Dutch delicacy. Indonesian food is popular here, as Indonesia was a Dutch colony until World War II.

Utrecht is a really beautiful city with narrow cobblestoned streets and shimmering canals. It's also a very young city. This has been welcome week for many of the universities, and there have been free parties all over the city. The other night, we happened upon an outdoor gathering, and followed the mob of people into the closest club, where we danced until 6 am.

This past fall semester I went abroad to Italy. Our first stop on "the boot" was Florence, where we stayed for two weeks. Florence is an incredibly beautiful city filled with Renaissance masterpieces, leather goods, wine, gelati, cigarette smoke, scooters, bridges, tourists and of course, Italian boys.

If you've seen the recent film "Eat Pray Love" you should be familiar with the word used to describe Italy in the movie which is "sex." (If you're planning on going to Italy the book is a must read!) After spending the semester in Italy I have to agree that this word seems to be on at least every male's mind. The girls in Italy are known for being prude and resistant to male attention whereas foreigners, especially American girls are known for being fun, wild, and easy to get in the sack (or at least that is how we're often depicted in movies such as "La Dolce Vita"). Due to this stereotype when traveling to Italy be prepared to get a lot of male attention. The picture above depicts a typical night out on the town.

Here in New Zealand the drinking age is 18 and as an 18 year old I was very excited to go out with my girls and enjoy the nightlife. The night before my friend Kelsey left to go home, (*tear*) my new friend Ginny, a New Zealand-native, gave us the grand tour.

Our first stop was to The World Bar for dinner. The three of us plus three of the boys from our camp enjoyed a long dinner with some live music. The singer was a beautiful New Zealand man who played the guitar and had a fabulous voice. What more could a girl ask for? The bar/restaurant was rather dimly lit with an orange essence. The furnishings were black and red. One wall seemed random and was covered in about 20 different telephones. There were booths and free-standing tables. People stopped in for a beer before their night out or sat around to listen to music. While it did take a while to get our food, when in good company and listening to music, I couldn't complain. I ordered the vegetarian lasagna because I was craving vegetables and it was very good.

I had never ridden on a horse before and had no idea how I would make it up, but I got on the saddle and hoped for a nice ride. We hadn't even been riding for 5 minutes when one of the horses broke into a trot and all the other horses followed. Being the amateur rider that I was, I had no idea how I would manage to stay on and got even more nervous when I watched a friend get thrown off her horse, but I finally got my horse to stop. As the hours went by I became more and more comfortable on the saddle and gazed out at the beautiful scenery surrounding Sani Pass.

We were riding horses up Sani Pass and our goal was to reach the highest point in the southern part of Africa, but we didn't quite make it. We rode for four hours and finally stopped at the foot of the hill that was the highest point. By this time we were already 11,000 feet above sea level and my toes were freezing.

The ride back was a lot fun because I felt comfortable enough to allow my horse to gallop and we galloped through the prettiest meadows I have ever seen.