#わくわくする瞬間　(英語版)

Moments That Made My Heart Race


As an English teacher, I spent decades traveling through English-speaking countries—sometimes guiding students, sometimes traveling alone during school breaks. Before I knew it, most of the English-speaking world had become familiar to me.

When both of my children left home and our mortgage was finally paid off, I set myself a bold goal:
to visit every continent—excluding Antarctica and the Arctic.

Moving overseas had always been my dream, and traveling felt like a form of purpose, almost a personal mission. I constantly compared school holidays with budget tours, and when nothing fit, I traveled alone.

Asia was manageable; I visited many countries there.
Europe, however, was expensive.

I once dreamed of going to Russia during the Olympics to see Yuzuru Hanyu skate. But the cost—nearly two million yen for just three nights—and the lack of vacation time made it impossible.
Later, I found an incredibly cheap tour and finally visited Moscow and Saint Petersburg. That thrill is still vivid.

South America remained a dream for a long time. There were no direct flights, and traveling alone felt unsafe in some areas. Machu Picchu seemed out of reach—until my son and his girlfriend went ahead of me.
Frustrated but determined, I found a budget tour with endless layovers and went anyway.

The last continent left was Africa.
Inspired by the film Casablanca, I longed to visit Morocco.

But riding camels and sightseeing didn’t interest me.
I wanted to talk to local women.
How did Muslim women really live? Did they always wear veils at home too?

After searching desperately, I found a homestay.
The man who picked me up, dressed in white, looked intimidating at first—but once we spoke in English, he turned out to be kind and even helped me exchange money.

The house was a traditional riad, built around an open courtyard that let in air and rain. There was no air conditioning or heating.
The husband worked in a hotel and spoke English. The household included his young wife and his mother.

They prayed several times a day.
I learned how to cook using a tajine, the cone-shaped clay pot.

The young wife didn’t speak English, and I didn’t speak Arabic or French.
So how did we communicate?

The answer was simple: gestures, smiles, shared time.
At home, she wore a tank top. When she went out, she covered herself with a veil.

Watching her, I realized something deeply.

Women are strong.

The journey home was exhausting, with multiple layovers. I still don’t know how I made it back.
But that was the end of my great travels.

My son and his family now live in New Zealand.
We visit them every year, and they come to visit us as well.

That sense of excitement—
that deep, heart-racing wakuwaku—
was truly the greatest feeling of my life.

#MomentsThatMatter
#TravelMemoir
#SoloTravel
#LifeAfter60
#WomenWhoTravel
#CulturalExchange
#HomestayExperience
#Morocco
#Riad
#LearningThroughTravel
#SecondHalfOfLife
#LifelongLearning