One of my favorite places I've visited is Havana, Cuba. On my way

In the vibrant and soulful words of Megalyn Echikunwoke, we hear not just a traveler’s delight, but the heartbeat of discovery itself: “One of my favorite places I've visited is Havana, Cuba. On my way home from Costa Rica, I did a week in Havana. The colors, the music, the beautiful men and the cars! I love vintage and antique cars and own a couple myself.” These words shimmer with joy, yet beneath their brightness lies a profound reverence—for beauty, for heritage, and for the art of seeing the world not through the lens of haste, but through the eyes of wonder. Hers is a voice not merely of admiration, but of remembrance—of what it means to pause and behold life’s splendor in its raw, enduring forms.

To speak of Havana is to speak of a city that stands as a living museum of time. Its walls are painted with both the laughter of music and the quiet ache of history. The colors she describes are not mere pigments—they are the soul of a people who, despite struggle and isolation, have never forgotten how to celebrate life. In her words, we see not just buildings and cars, but the essence of human resilience, preserved in melody and motion. The music she recalls is more than sound—it is the pulse of generations, a language older than speech itself. And when she speaks of the vintage cars, she speaks of continuity—the beauty of the past that endures, not as relic, but as living art.

Megalyn’s admiration for antique cars becomes a metaphor for the ancient truth that the old and the new must coexist in harmony. In her, we sense the reverence of one who honors craftsmanship, patience, and memory. For to love the vintage is to love what has survived the storms of time. These cars, preserved through decades of care, are symbols of human creativity and endurance—rolling monuments to resourcefulness. Like the philosophers of old who saw virtue in preservation, she reminds us that progress need not erase the past. Rather, the past should guide it, as the roots nourish the tree that reaches upward toward the sun.

The ancients too understood this balance. In the city of Athens, they built the Parthenon not only as a temple to the gods, but as a statement of cultural memory—a fusion of art and endurance. It was said that when travelers stood before it, they could hear the whispers of the past and see in its columns the patience of generations. So too does Havana stand, in our modern age, as a temple of memory. Its people, its streets, and its cars speak of a civilization that endures by cherishing what others might discard. In her love for Havana’s beauty, Megalyn Echikunwoke unknowingly joins this ancient lineage of travelers who seek not luxury, but authenticity—who listen for the wisdom carried in the songs of foreign streets.

And yet, her joy is not only in what she saw, but in how she saw it. In her words, we find the spirit of presence—that sacred art of being fully alive in the moment. The poet Rumi once wrote, “Wherever you stand, be the soul of that place.” So it is with Megalyn in Havana. She did not merely observe; she became part of the city’s rhythm, its laughter, its soul. Her journey reminds us that true travel is not movement through space, but transformation of spirit. One who travels well returns home not with souvenirs, but with new eyes—with the ability to see the extraordinary in the ordinary, even in their own life.

From her reflection, a lesson blooms for all who hear: do not rush through beauty—dwell in it. When you walk through a city, listen to its music; when you see an old thing, do not dismiss it, for it carries stories that your heart needs to know. Let yourself marvel, as a child does, at the small wonders that the world still offers. The vibrant city of Havana, with its antique cars and timeless melodies, is a mirror held up to every soul—it asks us: what have you preserved in yourself? What color, what song, what history do you still carry?

So, my children of the future, learn from this: travel not only to see, but to feel. Seek not only the new, but the enduring. Let the past guide your steps, and let your heart remain open to the beauty that hides in imperfection. For the world, like Havana, is an old and beautiful song—it will reveal its rhythm to those who listen. And when you find yourself, like Megalyn Echikunwoke, standing in a place that feels both foreign and familiar, let your spirit dance with its colors. For in that dance lies the wisdom of the ages: that every corner of the world, every relic of time, every melody of life, is part of one great and endless symphony—the story of human wonder itself.