Privileged.

That’s the word that came to mind after I witnessed the Grand Canyon from a helicopter…

Privileged.

And maybe that’s why I got a bit emotional, because that word summed up these past six weeks for me.

I wish I had the ability to explain what it was like, traveling for The Big Yellow Border, but I simply don’t.

Twelve years ago, I decided to sell everything I owned and head to Europe on a one-way ticket – it was the scariest thing I’ve ever done. I remember almost being in tears trying to figure out how a British payphone worked so I could call my parents back in Oklahoma and let them know I had made it.

But I had made it – and that realization outweighed all the other voices in my head telling me to go back home and take the normal route. Because we do live in a society that tends to make people who aren’t “normal” feel bad about it.

But I kept at it – for no other reason than being fascinated by what’s out there. There were a few times when I did come back home, and tried to acclimate, to fit in, but it never stuck. I was miserable.

And so, I’d take whatever money I could and get on another plane… I had no idea what awaited me once I landed, but that was the weirdly comforting part – I knew that this is what I was supposed to be doing, even though I was scared to death.

This would go on for the better part of a decade.

And then one afternoon in Buenos Aires, with $42 left in my bank account, I got a call.

A call from them.

National Geographic.

During the course of this trip, I never made a big deal about who I was writing for, but there would be this dance. Someone would ask what I did and I’d say “travel writer,” then they’d ask “who for?” and I’d just smile and whisper “The Big One.” Their eyes would get big and they’d whisper back “National Geographic?!” and I’d nod and smile some more.

It’s something everyone should feel – to be doing the greatest thing in the world [traveling], for the magazine that inspired us to do it in the first place.

And it is something you can feel.

Because one of you will be the next person to sit here, writing this.

But that means you have to go now – no more waiting around for permission.

Go now.

Sell everything, stop worrying about the consequences, take out a new credit card, start writing. Unfriend anyone who asks when you’re going to “get serious.”

Accept that cars aren’t necessary and that some meals take hours, that we can now fly to space, that there’s nothing wrong with crashing on couches if you’re on an adventure, that three outfits are enough, that sunrises are free, that the first time you see Machu Picchu it will break your heart, that being alone in a country with no money and no return ticket will teach you more about yourself than any therapist ever could…

That life happens when you start living outside of that box – not just thinking outside of it.

And when that’s done, your chances of getting The Call will have improved by an incalculable margin.

So, thank you, for coming along with me on this journey, for helping me along the way – with a suggestion, or just a kind word that kept me going.

I can’t wait to see which one of you go next.

- Aric S. Queen

One from The Good Traveler.

And one from me – Aric S. Queen.

[Part One]

Well, wow – we did it.

5,321 miles in six weeks.

Starting from Nat Geo headquarters in Washington, D.C., down to Otis Redding’s hometown, then all the way to Los Angeles and everything in between.

All for Good.

And there was a lot of it.

From the awe-inspiring John Hunter to Laura the Librarian, to the people behind the Santa Fe International Folk Art Festival and a muralist who seemingly forgot how important money can be…it’s comforting to know that there are a heck of a lot of people out there who are doing good without once stopping to ask when the spotlight is headed in their direction.

And it came at a time when we all needed some good news – take a quick scan of the headlines that have made the news lately and it’s easy to think the world’s all going to hell – but it’s not. The fact sadly is, that the good stuff doesn’t sell newspapers.

But of all of the people, dogs, neighborhoods, you name it on the receiving end of these good deeds, I have a feeling that it was me who got the most out of it. My days were filled with meeting these folks and learning from them, then going home (or to a hotel) to write about these folks — and sharing their stories with you. Talk about inspirational.

I learned a few things as well:

1. There’s a lot of good that can be done.
2. I’m not doing any of it.

So, thank you, doers of good – for setting a quiet example of what kind of a difference one person can make.

Yours truly,

The Good Traveler

[Read Part Two]

Trust me. It was only a year ago in New York City when I had to wade through people my own age tweeting “Down with corporate greed!” on their iPhones, while munching on $12 kale chips and moving to the beat of a drum circle headed up by Kanye West.

But then, it tilts back – back to the good that can happen when people who have important things to say — to share — are given the tools to do it. Take, for instance, the huge role social media played in Cairo last year. Firsthand accounts from real people in the midst of the revolution were transmitted to billions of other people who were far away, in real time. No advertisers, no content parameters – stories.

Real stories — and that’s what we need more of.

Enter the L.A.-based Tiziano Project.

What are they all about? Providing people all around the world – namely those in conflict, post-conflict and areas ignored by mainstream media – with gear, training, and platforms to tell their own stories.

When you consider that 42 million people in the world have been forcibly uprooted from their homes and that YouTube reaches more than 100 million viewers, you begin to see the revolutionary potential of this idea.

Tiziano’s creed: “It is morally unacceptable to have YouTube and undocumented injustice in the world at the same point in human history.”

Students in South L.A. edit a piece about their community's response to the Trayvon Martin case. (Photograph courtesy Jon Vidar/The Tiziano Project)

Unlike many organizations, Tiziano goes right into the – shall we say, spicy areas of the world – from teaching basic journalism skills to people in Iraq, to teaching folks how to edit audio and video in post-war Rwanda… and countless countries in between.

That’s not all – Tiziano is also striving to reach people like you, like me, sitting at home. In their mind-bogglingly intense and impressive 360 Project, you can spend hours clicking on photos, videos, and first-person narratives about what going on around the world.

How good is it? It just got an grant from the Knight Foundation to expand, which is being used to develop StoriesFrom – where “citizen journalists will be able to build their own 360-like story walls,” explains Tiziano member Mara Abrams.

Simply put – everyone gets a platform.

And Tiziano will ensure that everyone has the know-how and support they need to report their stories, in real time, to the world, and improve their lives in the process.

Suddenly, the Instagram-ed photo of my lunch today seems slightly inconsequential.

Follow the Good Traveler’s adventures on Twitter @GoodTraveler and on Instagram @GoodTraveler.

And this one isn’t sinking — it’s kept afloat by all manner of West Coast Weird.

From the muscle men of Muscle Beach, to the trustafarians posing as gutter punks, to a young Jim Morrison during his film school days — this place has a long history of opening its arms to anything that doesn’t fit in anywhere else.

A walk down the strip and back again will surely give you a kaleidoscopic view of all that we perceive Los Angeles to be.

And while it’s merely a snippet, it’s one that seems to last much longer than all the other aspects of this City of Angels.

Follow the Good Traveler’s adventures on Twitter @GoodTraveler and on Instagram @GoodTraveler.

Some of them work harder, make more money, and continue to fill their lives with tangibles — stuff.

And then there are those who take a step back and think, “What am I doing for good?”

L.A.-based artist Nichole Blackburn is one of the latter and, because of that, schools around the world have been blessed with her large-scale murals — murals she could be selling for $40,000 or more.

But Nichole learned many years ago that money isn’t where it’s at.

Follow the Good Traveler’s adventures on Twitter @GoodTraveler and on Instagram @GoodTraveler.

Even if that adventure involves a helicopter, which happens to make the Top 5 List of Things That Frighten Me.

But who could say no to a chance to fly over what’s considered one of the world’s wonders? Not this guy.

And, hey — at least this time I was with a professional pilot (unlike the last).

Follow the Good Traveler’s adventures on Twitter @GoodTraveler and on Instagram @GoodTraveler.

(The new) 3:10 To Yuma.

John Carpenter’s Vampires.

All The Pretty Horses.

Easy Rider.

Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid.

If it was a (Sci-Fi-/horror-) Western, there’s a very good chance it was filmed at Imogene Hughes’s Bonanza Creek Ranch – so-named because, well, “Bonanza” was also shot there — just south of Santa Fe.

But listen closely during this tour of the jail, saloon, and high-noon locales, as the good lies not only in the backdrop, but in what secretly makes Imogene happy.

Follow the Good Traveler’s adventures on Twitter @GoodTraveler and on Instagram @GoodTraveler.

My guide laughed when I told him about my first impression of the place. “There are a lot of artists and travelers, scholars and techies living and working here, always outside, living on one big preserve… so yes, it’s easy to jump to that conclusion,” he said. “You can call us whatever you want, but there are no real rules or religions.”

Living areas; amphitheater; greenhouse. Only thing missing is a place to park your car.

Soleri, now nearing his 93rd birthday, started building the so-called “urban laboratory” in the 1970s based on his concept of arcology– a mash up of architecture and ecology — to promote sustainable living and eliminate the need for cars.

Death to The Car?! I could see a few of his points, but that’s traipsing pretty close to being un-American. And maybe that’s because he’s not – he’s Italian. Oh, these Europeans, with their 3-hour meals and fluency in multiple languages. This is the United States and taking on the oil business will get you… well, you can go ahead and finish that sentence for me. Quietly.

As we walked the grounds – taking in the admittedly gorgeous semi-domes — I asked how many people Soleri envisioned living here. “Once this is all completed – around 5,000,” he said.

5,000? I had seen no more than 40 individual apartments. How are 5,000 people supposed to fit in here? I knew they were a bunch of hippies.

He must have seen the confusion on my face. “Wait. What entrance did you come in?” he asked. “Did you see the scale model plans when you first walked in?” I told him I had not. “You really should go do that.”

The domed rooftops that inspired George Lucas's Star Wars.

When I did, I finally understood what all the fuss was about. The area I had just toured — a few buildings overlooking the beautiful grounds, a pool and, in the distance, the vast Arizona landscape beyond — was, at most, 8% of Soleri’s vision for the 4,060-acre space. A parlor, or entryway, if you will.

In the sketches, you see an entire eco-city unfold – massive curving towers that climb up, not out, a greenhouse a mile long to heat and cool the entire town – neighbors getting back to meeting neighbors, organic produce growing below. Soleri’s plan was to maximize the best aspects of city life, while minimizing ecological impact.

It was like looking into the future – an optimistic and slightly idealistic future, sure, but still. Even in the 70s, the place was so avant-garde that George Lucas paid it a visit to get inspiration for Star Wars.

But, no cars? Next they’re going to want us to learn two languages.

Silly.

I thanked them for the tour, and promised to come back someday to stay in the Sky Suite, which actually looked quite cool, and drove away.

Three minutes later, I suddenly realized what Paolo was trying to say about cars ruining things.

Because three minutes later, I saw this on I-17.

And I saw the looks on people’s faces inside.

Follow the Good Traveler’s adventures on Twitter @GoodTraveler and on Instagram @GoodTraveler.

That would be the dread-locked man from Vanuatu, who sells his sculptures to feed his family back home and the artisan from Sudan, who uses what she makes to bring running water to her village.

There are no silver spoons at the Santa Fe International Folk Art Market.

Half of the artists come from places where the average income is less than $5 a day. That means that if a person worked every day of the year without taking a day off, they’d still only pull in about $1,800 — about a tenth of what they make in just three days at the festival.

After one long weekend, more than 150 artists from 57 countries leave with money that will…enrich isn’t a strong enough word — transform the communities where they live the other 362 days of the year.

An embroiderer from Pakistan was so grateful to the festival that gave her this platform for selling her wares that she succeeded in having a library back home named after it.

I was lucky enough to spend an afternoon with a few fine folks from the festival as they get ready for the big weekend next month (July 13-15), including festival founder and executive director Charlene Cerny and Nigerian artists Gasali Adeyemo and Akeem Ayanniyi.

It should be said that this tiny write-up (along with the video below) barely scratches the surface of the magic that goes on in Santa Fe each summer.

[Which is a polite way of saying you should really go see it for yourself.]

Follow the Good Traveler’s adventures on Twitter @GoodTraveler and on Instagram @GoodTraveler.

Especially when it involves a space station.

Virgin Galactic’s space station.

I was quite proud of myself for finding this massive, yet covert monument in the New Mexico desert. It’s about an hour’s drive from the closest town, Truth or Consequences. (Yes, you read that right. The town actually named itself after a radio quiz show from the ’50s.)

Someone tipped me off that the yet-to-be-opened space station was nearby, but the first couple of people I asked were guarded when I asked for specifics. Finally, I befriended a local artist who pointed me in the right direction. It was like playing a round of 20 questions with 20 different people. Each person I asked got me closer to my goal.

Finally, the massive complex appeared on the horizon, quite out of nowhere, like things tend to do in the desert.

I saw a half-finished security check point, but didn’t see anyone around, so I flew past it and drove toward the gate. Just as I caught my first glimpse of a building that would make even the most stoic person’s jaw drop, I saw a security guard jump on his mean-looking 4-wheeler and take off after me in my rearview mirror. This isn’t going to be good, I thought, as I began snapping as many photos as I could.

The entrance to Virgin Galactic's Spaceport.

I stopped the car. He walked up to my open window with his hand on his gun, but he looked even more scared than I was — which, in retrospect, is understandable. For all he knew, I could be a massive nut job. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he shouted.

“I’m with National Geographic,” I called back, playing the only card I had. I tried to be calm, like I was supposed to be here.

He wasn’t having it, his hand still trained on the butt of his 9mm. “You need to come with me,” he said. “Right now.” The way he said “right now” through his teeth told me I was about to be arrested, but at least I had gotten a few photos.

I mean, put yourself in my shoes, just for a second. Think about the things you hung on your wall when you were growing up. Think about what you would have done if Michael Jordan’s door were open, or Madonna’s, or Jacques Cousteau’s… You would have gone in, right? You would have known that this kind of opportunity doesn’t come along…ever…and you would have walked in the door. Admit it.

I started thinking about who I’d call to bail me out. It wouldn’t be Mom and Dad; they don’t have any money. It wouldn’t be Nat Geo; they were going to disavow me after this. My significant other is an iPhone, so that was out. This wasn’t going to be good.

The guard walked me to his office and he asked for my driver’s license. I handed it over to him. He took it, wrote a few things down, then handed it back. “Will you be going inside the grounds, sir?” What?! I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.

I decided to go for broke. “Yes.”

Visitor 009 is...not exactly supposed to be here.

He jotted down a few more things, handed me a pass and told me to be careful. This had to be a joke, right? As soon as I walked away, he was going to shoot me and call me stupid. I backed away slowly, got into my car, and drove back to the building and through the gate. I looked around for any snipers, but there were none. I was in. I couldn’t believe it. I was in!

I parked the car and walked around the grounds with a slow confidence that I hoped would make the people guarding the perimeter think that I knew what I was doing. Big strides, long pauses, out in the open. I’m supposed to be here. Look at my badge!

I walked all the way out on the runway and looked back at the building where people would soon be walking out of, right before taking the most exciting ride of their lives. A ride that would put them in the 0.0001% of the world (at least for now), and give them the chance to see things most can only dream of.

I knew I was already pushing some amazing luck, so I snapped a few more photos, walked to my car, drove to the guardhouse, handed over my badge, and sped away as fast as I could – checking my rearview mirror for black SUVs and helicopters.

So, there you go. I saw my chance and I took it. I’ll never be a 0.0001% space tourist, so this was as close as I could get to the dream.

And it’s good to dream big.

Follow the Good Traveler’s adventures on Twitter @GoodTraveler and on Instagram @GoodTraveler.