Unsafe Travel Quotes

What was reckless, I decided, was the way people were writing off huge swaths of the world as unsafe, unstable, unfriendly, when all they needed to do was go and see for themselves

I want my girls to know who they are and have strong family connections. I want them to be educated. I want them to travel the world. I want them to be able to support themselves, and if they choose to be in a long-term relationship, it will be based on their strengths, not their weaknesses. And I know that in order for them to get there, it is important that I take more than a surface glance at how I ended up in my unhealthy and unsafe relationship with their father. Only then will I ever have any hope of keeping my history from repeating itself in their future.

Consider this: I have been to every country in the world, and that includes North Korea, Afghanistan, South Sudan, and Venezuela. People often ask me about “dangerous” countries, no doubt thinking of the headline makers, the countries on the “do not travel” lists. I always respond that no country in the world is completely unsafe and no country in the world is completely safe. For me, a Black woman living in America, the U.S. has proven to be the most dangerous.

Peck states in his book The Road Less Traveled that children feel if their parents are willing to suffer with them, they will tell themselves “then suffering must not be so bad,” and they will become more willing to suffer when on their own. In other words, children come to trust that there is nothing unsafe or wrong with them when they are suffering. In order for parents to be present to and suffer with their children, their children need three simple things from them: time, love, and attention. Toxic parents provide none of these things, certainly not in any healthy ways.

Biting back a scream, Rebecca forced herself upright. Her breathing formed clouds in the bitter July air. Fighting a wave of nausea, she pushed herself to her feet. Dimly aware of the creak of her bedroom door opening, the words echoed again “—Run. NOW.” After casting one final glance to the window above, she did. ___________________________________________________ “You really should have been more careful setting your alarm, dearest. You know how unsafe it is to travel in the dark. Your eyes aren’t what they used to be, you know. At our age, all one’s traveling should be done in daylight.” Pete Goodwood reached across and patted Doreen’s leg.

It is easy to imagine and label countries as “unsafe,” “poor,” “dirty,” “underdeveloped,” etc. It's a whole different thing to actually experience the reality first-hand. Travel allows us to experience things for ourselves instead of passing our impressions through others.

Letting-go of our Assumptions:   Have you ever traveled to a place that is considered unsafe or dangerous back home and yet, once you reached your destination, you received genuine generosity, kindness and love?

Why are you here?” Bryce asked. He pushed his large wooden chair back slightly, turning toward her. Her gaze fell on the tanned chest that peeked out from an opening at the front of his loose shirt. Did the man ever wear a surcoat? Or armor for that matter? He dressed more like a peasant than a noble. She blinked. What was his question? “Your brother was ordered, as you say, to take and hold Bristol Manor, but why are you here?” Oh, that. “Toren refused to relent on the issue of my betrothal. I thought perhaps he would be more agreeable in person.” “And so you traveled to England, to an unsafe holding in the Borderlands, to convince him otherwise?” “We’re in Scotland, not England. Aye, it seemed to be the only way to convince him.” “Did it work?” “Not exactly.” Bryce’s blue eyes narrowed. “Not exactly?” “Not yet.” “How long have you been at Bristol?” “Three years.” The new lord of Bristol choked on his ale. “Three years? The man is likely married already by now.” “That hardly matters, does it, my lord? I can assure you leaving Bristol with my life has become more of a priority than getting married.

the boy whispered in my ear, “I think you’re really pretty.” It shocked me down to my toes. Before that moment, a boy liking me meant he grabbed me, said crude things to me, or made me feel nervous and unsafe in some other way. Bradley told me I was beautiful and I just let the word travel from my ear to the center of my preteen heart. He hadn’t grabbed or taken anything from me to make his point. He had offered me a bit of himself, the way he saw me, and I was as touched as anyone could be by the gesture. It felt like the kind of compliment that came along far too rarely, the kind you could keep without suffering for it in advance.