I've been a frequent flyer since, well, before I can clearly remember. My father, himself an avid traveler, worked in the airline industry while I was growing up, so our family of five traveled for free and quite often. As corny as it sounds, I like to think he gave me the world, and blame him for my lifelong wanderlust. I'm propelled by a desire to seek out landscapes that shake me from the bubble of my day-to-day, find inspiration in the ideas and traditions of cultures different from my own, feel simultaneously disoriented and thrilled upon hearing a language unfamiliar to my ears, or exult in the small triumphs of navigating a labyrinthine city that seems determined to confuse and confound me. Travel moves me in a way I don't fully comprehend, but it has became an essential part of my life, and a luxury I'm extremely grateful to have.
When it comes to plotting adventures, I have distinct preferences, which invariably involve pleasures of the sensory sort. Visually, my dream destination might have otherworldly landscapes, gorgeous light quality, an innate and finely honed aesthetic, thoughtful architecture and urban design, a rich tradition of craftsmanship, or all of the above. A beautifully designed hotel, shop, or restaurant can make me weak in the knees, as can an expertly brewed cup of Moroccan mint tea, the first bite into a warm pão de queijo, the olfactory delight of encountering a familiar scent in some remote wilderness, or the unusually melodious vocal stylings of a street vendor whose catchy song I'll find myself humming.
Between travels, I freelance as a consultant, developing social media marketing strategies for brands. I recently became a mom to a delightful baby girl and am trying to sort out parenthood (despite having done my research, so far it's been mostly instinct + Google). You can find me on Instagram as @challomallo.