What Stays With Us

Whenever I arrive somewhere new, I usually ignore the map for a while.

I walk instead.

Not toward the famous landmark, but toward wherever everyday life seems to be happening. A neighborhood bakery. A market. A small café where people linger over another cup of coffee. I've learned that a place will tell you far more about itself there than it ever will from behind the window of a tour bus.

Looking back, I realize I've approached life much the same way.

The things that have stayed with me were rarely part of the plan. They were the conversations I didn't expect to have, the workshops I wandered into by accident, the strangers who became friends, and the people generous enough to share a little of their world with me.

One of those people was a Canadian diver named Sonia.

We met in Egypt more than twenty years ago and remained close friends and travel companions for the next two decades. I could tell you about the places we visited together, but that's not what I remember most. What stayed with me was the way she approached the world. Every destination was met with genuine curiosity. She wanted to know the people, understand the culture, taste the local food, and experience a place on its own terms.

Watching someone travel that way quietly changed the way I traveled too.

Over the years, I realized that many of the people who had the greatest influence on me shared something in common. They remained curious. They cared deeply about what they were doing. Whether they were artisans, writers, guides, innkeepers, or booksellers, they never seemed to stop learning or seeking. They welcomed others into their world with a generosity that made you want to slow down and pay attention.

That's where Wildstead began.

Not with a product, a destination, or even an idea.

It began with a lifetime of meaningful introductions.

This publication is simply my way of passing a few of them along.

So pull up a chair.

There's someone I'd like you to meet.