Students in the Writing for the Media class were tasked with writing about a recent journey that they took. These are their stories:

First Time International by Christian Chee (’15)

At the end of the school year, there are many things to stress over. As much as I wanted to think about the summer during the end of my freshman year, I couldn’t afford to because it was the first year that grades really mattered. I had six exams and needed to do well on all of them in order to get A’s. Prior to finals, my parents surprised me with the news that we were going to Japan over the summer, and that I would have to miss the last few days of school. I love traveling but the news just made studying extremely difficult. Every time I tried to focus, a thought about Japan would pop into my mind. I chased these thoughts for many minutes at a time before I could get back to work. The constant wandering of my thoughts drove me crazy. I was gripping so many hairs on my head that I created a miniature mountain range on my scalp. I guess you could say my feelings preceding the trip weren’t the usual exciting anticipation most people have when it is their first time traveling to a foreign country.

I’m still worrying about my final exams all they way up until I board a United Airlines plane set for Tokyo, Japan. Once I sit down in my seat, my love for traveling finally engulfs me. I’m seated in international business class, which is distinguishably different than standard business class. The chairs aren’t normal; they have an odd set of buttons I’m not used to seeing on regular airplane seats. I tentatively press on an unfamiliar icon. Slowly I feel myself lowering into the floor as my seat flattens out into a bed. As I did this, I think to myself, “Nooooo way!” I turn to my brother and say, “Dude check this out!” but he is already reclining himself.

Each seat also has an individual television with access to a quality collection of new movies. I pull out the magazine from the wall in front of me and flip through the pages. I stop on a page showing high end cuisine that is shown on typical restaurant ads, and I read a little more and discover that these dishes are meal options for our flight. Filet Mignon or Misoyaki Butterfish with Sashimi as an appetizer. On an airplane. Did I already fall asleep and start dreaming? Instead of slapping myself, I slap my brother to make sure it is real. The distinct feeling of my hand on his face reassures me that I am not dreaming. The flight is over eight hours? This is the first time I actually want the flight to be longer. I lean back in my luxury chair and try my best to soak it all in.

By the time I fully wake up, I find myself on a train in the countryside. I feel as if I am in a movie: I am the main actor looking out the train window as the endless rice fields pass by. It is constantly overcast, unlike Hawaii where one can drive for 10 minutes and experience a climate change. I pass through dark stone tunnels still barely lit by streaming fluorescent lights only to be reunited with more rice fields on the other side. After a while, the landscape becomes a blur, and all I notice are the lighting changes as I pass through the tunnels. I start to envision the future of my trip: the mouth watering food, the unique culture, the exciting destinations— everything to reward myself after a long first year of high school.

Bus Ride by Aimee Clark (’17)

Waking up for the bus to go to school isn’t my idea of a perfect journey, but there were some interesting things during this ride. That morning, like every morning, I didn’t want to take the bus. It was cold, I can’t really talk to anyone and sometimes weird people ride the it. The sun didn’t rise yet and the air was cold. A garbage truck passed by and the stench from the truck blew into my nose. At the bus stop were four people, two of whom I had never seen before. I remembered the two boys. They were dressed in school uniforms and looked like they were friends. I didn’t really stare at them or look at anyone else; I was only concerned for when my bus would come.

The bus is never on time so thankfully it came as soon as I arrived at the bus stop. But it looked pretty full. There was a man in my favorite seat so I looked to the right to see if my other favorite seat was taken. Just as I was moving towards it, I realized the man that got on the bus before me was heading towards it. I decided to just sit down in the front. As I was sitting down, I noticed a boy I knew from before and waved to him. I thought about how different he looked when he was tired in the morning. He was wearing a bright blue jacket and playing on his iPad. He, his backpack and lunch bag were spread across two seats. The air in the bus was a lot colder than the outside morning air.

After a couple of bus stops, the bus started to fill with people: students, teachers, nurses, and businessmen and women. The person sitting above me to the right on a higher seat smelled like an old costume closet. She was reading books with pictures. I couldn’t really tell what she looked like because she was above me but her ring—I’m guessing her wedding ring—was really nice. It was round and sparkled in the light.

The person that sat down next to me, judging by her manner, looked like a teacher. I see her all the time on the bus, usually falling asleep or maybe just shutting her eyes to take a short nap. She always wore dresses and skirts. Like some old people, her eyeshadow and lipstick were really bright and her face was covered in heavy foundation. Her hair was black and was shoulder-length. It looked like she had a lot of hairspray in her old hair. She seemed like a nice teacher and I felt like I would enjoy her classes. I’m not sure what it was but something about her told me she wasn’t too strict in the classroom.

Stuck in traffic on the bus, I pulled out my headphones to listen to some music and distract myself from the boredom of the ride. I tried not to let the volume of my music get too loud because everyone would probably hear it. The woman above me decided to put her sweater on because the bus was so cold that morning but she accidentally hit me in the face with one of her sleeves.

When I finally got off the bus, I noticed the air was warmer, warmer than I’d have liked it to be. I would’ve rather stayed on the cold bus than walk in the humid weather. As I waited at the sidewalk to cross the street, there was an awkward silence between me and another girl. I talked to her a couple of times before, and in the beginning of the year, I used to sit by her on the bus. I’m not sure what happened but I think I got tired of talking to her because there was nothing to talk about.

Dozens of loud cars passed by as usual and sometimes they would kick up dirt from the ground and into my eyes. I didn’t want to really go to school, but I walked at a pace that I was comfortable with. My pace is a bit too fast for some people so I made sure I was ahead of the girl because she walked too slowly. The strong wind blew into my eyes causing them to dry up. I was tired and my eyes hurt so I closed them for a while. Yes, it is dangerous to close your eyes when walking towards oncoming traffic, but I needed it.

The Run by Jordyn Hartley (’17)

I stretched my legs and arms in the hope of loosening my muscles before the run. After tying my shoelaces so tightly that the circulation in my feet began to decrease, I took my last sip of ice-cold water and opened the gate in my backyard. I began jogging around the corner as I felt the cold water run down my throat and into my chest. I increased my speed slowly and began to see flashes of red and white drive by. Only being able to deduce the model of each car at stop signs and intersections, I was waved through the crosswalk.

My breathing got heavy as I passed a series of townhouses, each with a small white picket fence bordering the sidewalk. “I didn’t know they painted,” I said to myself as I pass a house with a fresh coat of light blue. Trying to steady my breath, I pass a familiar ceramic statue of two gnomes hugging each other. The piece rested on a stairway that led up to an old couples’ home which leaked the smell of freshly baked sugar cookies. Every fiber of my being was telling me to stop running and go home. I could picture my soft, light brown couch with warm blue pillows to hug me when I slept. I was seconds away from turning around when I got a second wind and every memory that represented my love for running was brought back to me. Feeling the cold air on my face and having my hair flow behind me as I kicked up my feet in long strides, I knew I couldn’t stop now.

A few streets past my house, I saw a scruffy golden retriever being walked in the distance. Fighting the restraint from his leash, the dog had his tongue out, looking for any form of hydration that would allow him to continue to run faster than the speed of me and his owner combined. I pass the dog and the owner pulls him to keep up as they run through a park together. After losing sight of the retriever, I carried on, passing each street with the memory of the dog whose happiness could’ve been sensed for miles. I was abruptly pulled out of my reminiscent thoughts as the feeling of something wet and cold ran down my face. I felt the same sensation on my scalp, then my arm, and my cheek. It took me about 15 seconds to realize that this was the beginning of a rain storm and it was time for me to go home. Turning around with a gloomy look, I began to run in the direction I came from.

Passing the park I ran through earlier, I saw a group of kids playing football in the rain. A short, young boy with blond hair ran past me saying, Nice weather we’re having, eh?”

I said to myself, “He probably doesn’t have to go home just because it started raining,” annoyed at the rules of my household. I was just a couple streets away from my house as I saw the same scruffy golden retriever come back into view. He was laying down with his owner in a community park, and I smiled knowing the dog was finally getting the hydration he desired.

I passed the white picket fence houses with freshly kept green grass that was then dewy from the rain, and I crossed the last intersection before my street. Running towards my house, I was drenched with rain and I turned the corner, still bitter that I had to cut my outing short. I thought back to how happy the golden retriever must have been, and I opened the gate to my backyard as my chihuahuas barked in the distance. They ran up to me acting as though they hadn’t seen me in years and I smiled at their excitement. Still slightly upset from having to stop running, I walked inside and laid down with my dogs, remembering every sight, smell, and sound from my run to Geiger Park. I eventually gave up on the idea that the weather would ever cooperate with me during my runs. Now, I run at the gym.

Livestock Tavern by Katelynn Iha (’15)

It all started with a lobster roll. I was laying on my bed browsing Yelp underneath the comfort of my bedsheets. A new restaurant in the heart of downtown caught my eye. The pictures showcased modern café food and a vintage interior design. Livestock Tavern was the new addition to my food bucket list. That evening, I texted my boyfriend Henry and asked if he wanted to head downtown the next day with me to find this hidden gem. Honestly, his love for architecture is the reason he agreed to this adventure.

My alarm went off at 10 a.m., and I peeled myself off my bed, barely conscious. I went through my daily morning routine with excitement. The hardest part of the morning was deciding what to wear. I grew up on the outskirts of San Francisco so cold-weather city fashion is what I am used to. I settled on my black skater skirt, maroon Brandy Melville sweater, over the knee socks from H&M, and black Steve Madden riding boots.

Parking downtown was a pain. The parking stalls were either occupied or unreasonably priced. Finally, after what seemed like hours, we passed by a parking lot that charged only three dollars for the whole day.

Finding Livestock Tavern was like finding Waldo. According to Yelp, it was on the corner of Smith and Hotel Street, and the exterior was a red brick wall. Downtown Honolulu is famous for having many vintage brick wall buildings. Just my luck, right?

Henry and I roamed around the streets without haste. It was nice to walk at a steady pace and take in the scenery. Tall blue glass corporate buildings, old vintage shops, and elegantly designed archways captivated my accomplice’s attention. I, however, was more interested in satisfying my hunger.

Livestock Tavern is a timeless, perfectly designed restaurant. The interior is lined with vintage artifacts. From faded globes to Crosley record players, the decor is made to appeal to the hipster crowd. The wait for a table wasn’t too long—maybe about 20 minutes at the maximum. I passed the time by looking at the cute little boutiques right next door, browsing mostly one-of-a-kind, over-priced items.

Anyway, back to Livestock Tavern. For an appetizer, we ordered clam chowder soup. It was a perfect balance between rich and subtle. It did not have an overpowering seafood taste, and it contained the right amount of milk and cream. The lobster roll—which was the reason why we went to the restaurant—featured chopped up Maine lobster in a homemade butter-roll bun. The taste brought me back to when I would eat at Pier 31 in San Francisco after a long day of shopping in Union Square. The decadent aioli sauce waltzed with the fresh lobster and left me wanting an encore. I savored every bite.

Las Vegas by Jennifer Le (’17)

We had been in Las Vegas for three days now, and it’s been just okay. There’s not much to do there, not much to do at all. I spent most of my days shopping and during the night, my family—which consisted of my parents, my grandma, my two aunts, my little sister, and my baby cousin—would walk down the streets of the very lit-up city. The sight of a big, innocent-looking, Asian family is not something you would imagine walking down the lanes of Sin City. We exited out of the warm hotel and right when the doors opened, I immediately felt the icy-cold wind freeze my face, which was covered with a thick plaid scarf and a warm wool hoodie. We walked ten steps to Starbucks and after some hot chocolate, we continued to see the sights of Las Vegas.

Although I love the feeling of crowded streets and getting lost in the city, I hated the smell of Las Vegas. And don’t even get me started on the static shocks. I have a theory that since the city uses so much electricity, it is absorbed into our bodies, and people actually become static-y. I would get “shocked” by strangers more than ten times a day.

Speaking of strangers, sometimes, out of nowhere, a person would run past me and he would reek of what smelled like a combination of vomit and weed. Yuck. I would laugh as I see my family walk quickly with scrunched up looks of disgust across their face.

One night in Las Vegas, after we returned back to the hotel, we immediately tried to go to sleep, for we had a four-hour drive the next day. We left the hotel at around 8 a.m., and got some famous Lee’s Sandwiches sandwiches and cups of iced Vietnamese coffee. I love Vietnamese coffee. Have you ever tried Vietnamese coffee before? It’s the best! It’s sweet, not like the kind we have here in Hawaii, where people only put in two packs of sugar and all you taste is bitterness. Vietnamese coffee sweet coffee (they put a ton of condensed milk in it), and it’s extremely addictive.

We got back on the road and I passed out, though you’d imagine that the coffee would have kept me awake. When I awoke, everyone was asleep too. Well, everyone except my dad, the driver, and my aunt, the navigator. I looked out the window and saw looked like white sheets on a barren brown desert.

“What are those white things?” my dad asked. “That’s not snow right?”

I was unsure. It was the right temperature for snow but it looked like white wool blankets scattered everywhere. “I think it is,” I said. ”Yeah, oh my god that’s snow! It’s snowing!”

I had finally seen snow! Later, as we drove ahead, the snow began to look more like snow. There was snow everywhere instead of just pools of it in scattered areas. We got out of the car to refill our gas and right away, my sister and I jumped out and ran to the snow. We scooped up handfuls with our bare hands and it was so cold. Way colder than I had imagined. I dropped the snow and wiped my hands. The freezing snow clung to my warm hands even though I tried to shake it off. The longer it was on my hands, the colder my hands got, but I was determined to play with the snow. I used the sleeves on my coat to grab some more. I flung it at my sister’s back, and she gasped and laughed. She grabbed a handful and threw it me, but luckily I turned away. She laughed and told my mom to look at my back. Apparently, the white powder looked very weird in contrast to my dark blue-gray wool coat. After a while of playing in the snow, we got back in the car and continued on our journey to the Grand Canyon.

Volleyball Trip by Kristin Moniz (’18)

My club team, Hi Intensity, took a trip to Florida last summer. We left on June 13, 13 days after school ended. The minute that school finished, I raced home and started packing my bags. We were only allowed two bags: one carry on and one for our volleyball gear. I kept checking and double checking my bags every day, and the day before we left, I woke up in the middle of the night to put more things in my bag. I felt like I would enjoy the plane ride as much as I would the trip.

My parents left for Florida the night before I did, so I was left alone with the dog for one night. My grandmother came in the morning to stay at our house while we were gone. My friend Chalcedony picked me up and we drove to the airport together. The first flight of our trip was cool because everyone sat next to someone they were good friends with. I moved my carry-on bag onto my seat and so that I could sit on the ground and lie down. Our half of the plane was pretty loud because we knew each other. I had some experience with keeping myself occupied on flights before, so I was well equipped with movies, games, a deck of cards, and lots of snacks to keep us from getting bored. Needless to say, we were fully occupied on that 10 hour flight.

When we landed in L.A., our coach told us that we had an hour before our next flight. My plane seat partner Gabby and I went to a burger place not too far from our gate. We thought it would take a few minutes, but it ended up taking them close to a full hour to make two cheeseburgers. Everyone else had gotten their food and charged their phones while we were waiting. Our coach was upset with us when we got back because we took so long. It wasn’t our fault, though. We had paid a lot of of money for terrible service. Fortunately, we made it back in time for the next flight and everyone fell asleep almost instantly when our plane took off.

On our first day in Florida, we drove to Hollywood Studios in Disney World. We had three days to have fun before our tournament actually started, so we intended to make the most of it. The first day, as expected, was a drag. Everyone was exhausted from our journey and a small confusion involving the rental cars. Some much needed rest was taken when we got to our vacation home on the first night. In the end, we realized the results of our tournament didn’t matter as much as and everyone had a lot of fun during the trip, and was looking forward to the following year’s trip.

The City of Brotherly Love by Deylen Sueoka (’16)

The smell fresh pines and the feeling of the cool east coast winds greet you in one of America’s oldest cities, Philadelphia. As you drive towards the city, you are surrounded by old vine covered trees that serve as a natural ancient gate into the historically rich city. The trees become more scarce as it gives way to more houses and buildings.

As we drove closer to the heart of the city, the buildings got taller and taller, and when you thought they couldn’t get any higher, they just kept on getting higher. The buildings made me feel like a child who was dragged to a house party by their parents. The child is small and innocent to the knowledge of the world, but suddenly is thrown into an environment where everyone towers over them and knows way more. I looked at the buildings in awe. The skyscraper is the image of capitalism and when I looked up at 975 feet of concrete, steel and glass, my god, did it make me feel small.

Philadelphia is known for its rich history and the city makes sure you remembered that. If you travel through the city you will be greeted by numerous blue signs which stand as historical markers for events or places. The signs vary from “Gay Pride march 1980” to historic ones that mark the still standing Christ Church. The “touristy” things were pretty average and made you end up standing in 80 degree heat on a hot summer day for 30 min just to see the Liberty Bell. The one exception was the Reading Terminal. The Reading Terminal is an old train station terminal that used to be a train station until it closed in the 70’s. Now, Reading Terminal is a marketplace for a variety of food places and venues. The food varies from typical American burgers and fries to more exotic foods like Amish breakfast food, which was awesome.

The city never fell short for being called the city of brotherly love. The people there were very nice and polite to you no matter where you were from. There was something about the people in Philadelphia that gave them a more down to earth feeling. They were willing to help you or throw you a smile, and it made you feel happy wherever you went.

Philadelphia was absolutely beautiful and the people made the city ten times better. Most people pick New York or San Francisco as their favorite cities, but I would choose the city of brotherly love as my favorite city.

The Outdoors by Danielle Woo (’15)

There are a million things I’d rather do than be one with nature and explore the outdoors. Growing up in an apartment complex has kept me from the outdoors and taught me to fear ants and butterflies and to shriek in horror at my third grade mealworm project. Even sitting in the grass brings me to abnormal levels of paranoia. One sweltering day in October however, I decided to accompany my boyfriend on a hike. Why? Because I needed to get out of the house and “I’m afraid of grass” wasn’t a good enough excuse.

I arrived at his house at nine that morning, half asleep but determined to prove I wasn’t completely incapable of being awake before noon. He was, of course, fast asleep. I waited about ten minutes, petted his cat, and then lost patience and jostled him awake. We were out the door within twenty minutes. How does one manage to roll out of bed and straight into the world so quickly? I suppose it’s just another enigma of being a teenage boy.

The hike, I was warned, wasn’t anything easy. It wasn’t even actually a hike; rather it was a makeshift trail made by people who lived nearby. It had uphill climbs and sharp plants. He’d told me to wear long pants and a long sleeve shirt, but I had brushed the advice aside. The only clothing a Hawaii October comfortably accommodates is a bathing suit and maybe shorts—on a good day. I wore long exercise pants to compensate for the sleeveless tank top I had on, and I later learned what a mistake that was.

The hike was up the road from his house and the start of it was rather unofficial. He literally climbed into the base of the mountain that sat behind his neighborhood. I stood back for a moment, shrugged, and followed. There were sticks and leaves poking me from all directions. We’d brought a boogie board with us to slide down hills with, and I was grateful he was the one holding it. That is, until, he started using it as a shield to the foliage. It may have held the brush from his face, but I was victim to their backlash. Oh the chivalry.

The tread was painfully uphill, and forced me to face my distaste of dirt and moss as I desperately grabbed on to whatever stable branch I could find. There was no possibility of keeping balance without it. I pulled myself up makeshift steps of rock and tried not to think of what bugs I was probably smothering my hand all over. I’d begun to have fun jumping from rock to rock, probably looking as agile as a handicapped goat, but then a slip or a wobble forced me back to taking careful, elderly steps.

It took maybe an hour (or a year) to reach the top. We sat ourselves in the middle of a dirt clearing, and he removed two sandwiches from his backpack. The feeling of not being on my feet could not have felt any more heavenly. We were finally able to put the unwieldy boogie board to use for the both of us, taking turns sliding down steep dirt hills. After flying off the board one time, I managed to scrape a thick chunk of skin out of my arm on some gravel. A month of thick bandages was the only tangible souvenir I brought back from the trip, but I’m not complaining. I won’t say that I am now an avid outdoorswoman, nor that I’ve conquered my fear of bugs and plants. However, the experience makes for a good story and gave me a pretty cool scar.

A Night in the Woods by Brant Yamamoto (’18)

Most people would think that spending a night in the woods with your friends is a little bit stupid, unsafe, and impractical when you have a comfy bed lying in your room. However, my Boy Scout Troop gives up the luxuries of home each year to go on a survival-camp to test our survival skills, where we hike in to an open area along the trail with our food and water, without a tent, and spend a wonderful night under the stars.

I had been on this hike before, but this trip would be the first time I wasn’t allowed to bring a tent since I was old enough to make my own shelter. I pondered upon bringing my sleeping bag, because it would keep me warm, but was concerned about getting it dirty. In the end as I walked out the door, I dumped the sleeping bag next to my bed because I figured it wouldn’t be that cold. My mom dropped me off at the start of the trail and I met up with my friends.

Being one of the oldest ones in my troop, I had to help lead everyone on the hike. We set out on the Waimano Home Trail, behind Pearl City High School. The trail is probably one of the most boring hikes on the island. The road to the trail is obliterated by years of rain and big hunting trucks driving on it. The trail begins at the end of the road, on the side of a fenced off government facility. But if you didn’t know that, you would think it is just a dead end.

We took a head count and start off on the trail. There was nothing but dirt, rocks, and trees ahead of us. The first few miles were pretty boring as we had no view of the valley. Finally the trail banked into the forest and we stopped to take another head count. Last year when we did this camp-out, we lost someone and had to backtrack to find him. We found that he had fallen down a small slope, but luckily his dad was there to help him climb back up.

This time everyone was all present and accounted for so we headed into the forest. We hiked for another mile and came out on the other side of the ridge. Sadly the view was unspectacular—nothing but forest and the other ridge line across the valley, not to mention the houses on the other side of the valley. I soon realized that being under the forest was more preferable given that the hot beating sun was horrible. And we couldn’t drink a lot of water because we had to save some to cook our dehydrated food. After hiking for five hours we finally reached our destination.

My friends and I separated ourselves from the younger kids so we could get some sleep while they chat with each other in their tents. We found a nice area where the trees would shelter us from rain and had lots of space to build our shelters. I spent a good two hours working on mine while my friend Jeff plopped down a bunch of branches and made a bed. I found a big branch and leaned it against a tree and put smaller branches on the sides to act as support. I then covered it with leaves to act as shingles just in case it rained. Then we made a small fire and ate our lunch. Most people would think eating dehydrated food is disgusting, but the truth is that the dehydrated food manufacturers pack so many calories into these meals that it they are practically like your favorite fast food meal. I had Chili Macaroni and it tasted awesome.

After lunch, we decided to do some adventuring. With the paracord my friend Kyle brought, we felt that anything was possible. Since there was a slight dirt cliff next to where we pitched our shelters, we decided to go down using the cord and see what was at the base of the valley. I tied the cord to a tree, hoping that it would hold our weight, and started to slowly walk down the cliff. I never really thought about it, but eventually the paracord would run out. We decided that since we were already more than half-way down the hill, we might as well go all the way to the bottom. We walked down slowly using the trees as support. Thankfully we all made it down to the base of the valley safely and found a river. The river was full from a recent storm. Since it was getting late, we walked back up the hill, and found our way back to camp just in time to make dinner. I had lasagna this time, though it was really just lasagna noodles and tomato sauce.

Going to sleep that night was more like attempting to sleep for me. Being on a cliff and having the wind skim you every so often was horrible. On top of that, I checked my phone and found out that the temperature was just 60 degrees, not to mention I was also in shorts. All I had was a tarp, and so I huddled up and wrapped myself in it. Here’s a word of advice: Tarps don’t actually keep out the cold. I was a popsicle stick in a freezer, and stayed up for seven hours texting friends to pass the time. I posted a photo of my misery on Instagram and slowly bit into my leftovers of beef jerky. Hours seemed to be days, as I lie under my tent. Eventually all my friends went to sleep, and I resorted to browsing Reddit.

Finally, I saw the most beautiful thing in the world: The hot sun that I hated the day before was rising! I ran to the ridge line and snapped photos of the most marvelous sunrise I had ever witnessed. And I sat there, leaning against a tree, thinking to myself, “I have done it!” I survived a night out in the woods, survived life draining cold temperatures—well, cold by Hawaii standards—and was the first one to see this marvelous sunrise. Everywhere else on the island, the sunrise was just a normal event, but to me it was a gift from the heavens. The warmth touched my stone cold skin, and it was the best feeling ever.

As soon as the entire troop got up, we cleaned up our area, packed our stuff, and hiked out of the forest. When we reached the end of the trail, our long journey was rewarded with delicious donuts that our parents had brought for us. I must say, I’d almost forgotten the taste of real food that wasn’t dehydrated and stuffed in a bag.

Though the trip was absolutely horrific for me, I urge you to try it. While I hope you don’t have the same experience as me, spending a night with your friends in the woods is a great experience, and will make you realize that you should be grateful for a bed and a house. Nature will reveal to you the majesty of the bright stars in the clear night and the warmth of the sunrise in the morning that most people don’t even stop to gaze at.