The Dead Sea + Petra + Amman | September 2023

I took a deep breath in. The lemon and mint-tinted smoke filled my lungs. I exhaled slowly and watched the discarded shisha carry off with the wind. The darkness of night kept my eyes soft, but despite the absence of sun, the air was still hot and heavy like a blanket on my skin. The silence of the Dead Sea stilled in the distance. I smiled, remembering the way my body felt perfectly weightless within its waters today. The way I bobbed up and down on the surface and extended my toes as far as they could go without touching any earth. The way I laughed the whole time. Giddy like a small girl feeling something brand new.

When I arrived in Petra, that first morning I woke before the sun. I descended into the canyon as the light rose and the air warmed around me. My footsteps echoing over stone. The entrance to Petra smells like frankincense burning from a distance. I walked that ancient Roman road that slightly sloped in all directions so the waters would always flow down. But if you looked closely at the canyon walls you could see the black lines that marked where the surface of the ocean once was. Everything was something else in another lifetime.

The Treasury of Petra is more beautiful in person. If you sit long enough in front of something to see it in all shades of light, it becomes a part of your soul. So I sat down and saw every version she was willing to show. They say the Treasury was made by a single pair of hands. And sometimes I wonder. Who was put on this earth to carve palaces from stone. Sometimes, I wonder. When the light fades. When the breath halts. What will I have to leave behind. What oceans will rise within. What will be left of me in another lifetime.

Tel Aviv + Jaffa | September 2023

Marrakech + Ait Ben Haddou + Ourzazate +Sahara Desert + Fes | September 2023

On my last night in Morocco I went to bed with fingers stained in garlic and saffron. My belly full with tagine and pastilla I made with my own hands. Diced tomatoes and olives. Sauteed onions. Endless cumin.

Everything in Morocco is red. The hue seeps from the earth and claims it all as its own. Rust red clay constructing the old homes that disappear into the mountains. The blazing red walls of the Medina. Marrakech is the color of sunset. Everything slides through soft peaches and pinks or smolders in flames of brick red and blood orange. Fes is the color of light as it rises in the morning. Begging for your attention only just.

But the part of Morocco I will carry with me is the desert. The molten red of the Sahara. The slow, rocking movement of the camel’s gait beneath my seat. How small I felt sitting in the sand as the wind pushed and pulled the tiny granules across the surface like waves across the ocean. I leaned over and spelled the letters of my name in the earth. This is a small habit of mine - writing my name where I know it will never stay for long. Because I was there. And I never was. I waited long enough for each piece of me spelled out to be carried away into the distance, disappearing into the shadows that grew longer and longer with the parting sun.

Tears fell down my face as the sun slipped behind the dunes. Left stains of red canyons on my cheeks. And later that night, as I stood in the middle of the Sahara, new soiled ravines formed again as my gaze fixed to the sky. Millions of stars broke through that endless abyss. So many stars. Such darkness. The night never felt so black. But as I stood there swallowed whole in the dark, I knew that if I wiped my eyes and looked - really looked - I wouldn’t see the black at all. I knew that if I placed my hand back onto the earth, it would pull away stained. I knew that if you take away the cover of night, what you’re left holding between your fingers is the red.

Cuzco + Machu Picchu + Lima | June 2023

Istanbul + Cappadocia | May 2023

Mexico City | April 2023

Dar es Salaam + Serengeti + Ngorongoro + Lake Manyara | January 2023

Nairobi + Masai Mara | January 2023

Sone Town + Nungwi | January 2023

Cape Town + Paarl + The Garden Route + Port Elizabeth | December & January 2023

Hue + Hoi An + Da Nang |   November 2022

Castellina in Chianti + Montepulciano + Florence + Milan  |  May 2022

Zurich + Lucerne  |  2022 - Present

Cartagena + Medellin + Bogota  |  2016 - Present

"The rain had stopped but the city was still swollen from the saturation. I walked the narrow streets of La Candelaria, passing painted houses, kioskos and tiendas selling magnets, Colombian flags and mini Botero sculptures of rounded women. Bogota did not exactly welcome me with open arms, but she wasn't unfriendly.  And she wasn't unforgiving. The rain cleared that afternoon and the sun warmed the air a few degrees before setting into oblivion. My first sunset in South America in just shy of a year. It felt good to be home." 

-Tess Thomas, The Laughing Diet; “Bienvenido a Bogota”

Napoli + Pompeii + Amalfi Coast | September 2021

I found my favorite restaurant in Amalfi in a small piazza away from the main square. The best restaurants and cafes are always here, tucked away amongst the buildings; hidden from the main tourist path. I sat at the edge of the patio, protected from the sun by a large beige umbrella. The heat of the day still warmed my skin so much that small beads of sweat broke from my brow every few minutes. But I didn't mind. I sipped chilled water and slowly ate mouthfuls of pasta with anchovies scented in lemon. Over the next few days I would visit again and again. Slowly working my way through the menu. Looking through the same cracks of sun umbrella at the same slivers of sky. I learned all the wait staff's names. And I imagine they remembered me for my curly hair and solitary meals over a quiet book and a glass of wine. But these are the moments of traveling alone. If you don't loves these, I'm not sure how you will survive. Let alone find yourself. Let alone discover what you're capable of. Let alone fall in love with small corners of a small village and make a piece of it yours if only for a few days. I travel solo, but I am never alone for long.

-Tess Thomas

Santa Teresa + Samara + Monteverde + La Fortuna | April 2021

“On my first night in Costa Rica I started a book of poems. Black Girl, Call Home. Home. They say it's within us. They say it's wherever we are. They say it can be built brand new whenever we need to. I've found these things to be true. I've also found them not to be. Go on, Black girl. Call home. Maybe home is a book of poems you buy in paperback so you can feel the pages on your skin. Your soiled fingers smudging the print. Sand stuck in the spine. The ocean breeze coaxing the pages to turn before you're ready. Or maybe today home is just things you can hold in your hands.”

-Tess Thomas

Siem Reap + Koh Rong Sanloem + Phnom Penh | November 2019

Paris + Loire Valley |  2017 - Present 

"Every few blocks - every few turns - I could see it peeking out at me as if we were playing a coy game. I smiled at each sighting; something inside me fluttered. I passed corner cafes, I passed bread shops, I passed patisserie after patisserie and finally stopped to buy four macaroons: salted caramel, pistachio, strawberry and passion fruit...everything is better with passion fruit. Macaroons in hand, I made one final right turn and found myself almost directly underneath the Eiffel Tower. "

-Tess Thomas, The Laughing Diet; “Coup de Foudre”

Bangkok + Koh Phi Phi + Koh Samui + Chiang Mai + Phuket.  |   2017 - Present

"I took one long, deep breath in - filling my chest cavity with the salty air - and opened my eyes as I exhaled. A small smile formed on my lips. I gazed down into the crystalline water and watched as my feet kicked sand over my painted toes. Black and yellow fish swam around me; ebbing and flowing with the calm waters, dodging my foreign arms and legs as if it were a game. I was no longer me. I let it all go. I breathed in again and tried to leave it all behind. I laid on my back on top of that crystal clear water and let the sun tattoo my skin.  I let my tears mix with the salt of the sea until there was no difference left between us."

-Tess Thomas, The Laughing Diet; “Tailandia” 

Taipei | October 2019

“I awoke before the sun and made my way to the deserted city streets. The heat and humidity languidly crept across the pavement, eager to overtake the city. I’ve spent hundreds of mornings just like this. These early hours in foreign countries belong to me and the street sweepers as we wait for the world to wake around us. Soft yellow light. Bird songs not yet drowned out by traffic or tour groups. The hopeful, optimistic promise of a new day. Taiwan marks the thirtieth country I’ve visited. Thirty countries. Thirty places where my lungs have tasted the air and my feet have felt the soil. Thirty lives lived across cities and small towns. Thirty times falling in love with the oceans and the architecture and the small dogs and children that play at my feet. More than thirty cuisines that nourished my body and kept my heart beating. Thirty sources of water that quenched my soul, ensuring I would not drown.”

-Tess Thomas, The Laughing Diet; “Sānshí”

Belize City + Ambergris Caye + San Pedro | July 2019

“I spent my first night on Ambergris Caye walking the town of San Pedro. The rains had stopped and people dressed in thin tank tops and shorts filled the streets. Much of the town catered to the North Americans that comprised Belize's main tourists, and I was miffed at the offerings of sushi and 4th of July specials that surrounded me. I cut away from the waterfront restaurants playing played-out Bob Marley and Jimmy Buffett to find the back street taco shops. I ordered local delicacies of panades with beef and salbutes with chicken. I sampled the offerings of the street vendors - often to their surprise - as I excitedly purchased small portions of their spiced meats grilling over fire.”

-Tess Thomas, The Laughing Diet; “De Dag Dead Now”

Santorini + Crete | May 2019

“We lost ourselves in the whitewashed walls and blue-capped churches of Santorini. We explored the small streets of Thera and Firostefani as we lapped ice cream by the tongueful, and we scaled the steep cliffs of Oía to watch the legendary sunset over the Aegean. We spent a day at sea and swam in waters so clear and blue you could see the bottom of the earth. I jumped in and let the cool, salty water keep me afloat as my weightless body slowly bobbed back and forth, humming me into a serene peace. The last few days were spent in the Old Venetian Port of Chania on the island of Crete. I played with stray cats and local dogs in the streets. I spent a morning obsessing over a young Friesian and let her pungent, musty smell of horse sweat and leftover hay overtake me. I found a small table on the water and sat down to write as the sun drifted downwards in the sky, and the blues softened into purples and then pinks. I watched as the white lights of the ancient lighthouse began to glow, and the last remaining remnants of the walled city slowly began to disappear into the sea. The world walked by me in every language and I felt at home lost in the foreign tongues and unfamiliar hand movements.”

-Tess Thomas, The Laughing Diet; “Glass Castles”

Dubrovnik + Srebreno + Hvar + Vis + Bisevo | May 2019

“After a sleepless night I found myself on a picturesque terrace in Dubrovnik's Old Town. The ancient city slowly woke around me as I grazed on a plate of eggs and local sausages with fresh tomatoes and sautéed mushrooms. I sipped a cappuccino and wiped the foam from my lips, watching the store clerks and delivery men finish their daybreak rounds. I would come to learn that the old city was best in the mornings. Before the shops cleared their shutters. Before the swarms of tourists overtook the streets. I watched wide-eyed, porous to every smell and flicker of light and smile that surrounded me. I spent my days dizzying myself in the maze of cobbled streets and high rock walls of the old city state. I sauntered from cafe to cafe sipping macchiatos and listening to the sweet songs of Madeline Peyroux. I swirled white wine across my tongue in between bites of sea scallops in leak sauce and risotto stained black with squid ink. I ate grilled octopus - the tentacles taut and perfect - and sliced through swordfish steaks with zucchini ragù. I sauntered slowly through the labyrinth of alleyways, my fingers grazing across the shrapnel holes in the church facades leftover from the war. Her history bled through the walls, it seeped through each crack and you could see it in the lines on the faces of the men, but her beauty never faltered.”

-Tess Thomas, The Laughing Diet; “Glass Castles”

Panajachel + Lake Atitlan + Antigua + Guatemala City. | January 2019

“I mounted her with ease, the muscle memory falling effortlessly back into place. I took the reins and adjusted my stirrups. Her smell began to radiate through the air - a mellow musk of oiled leather and sweat. We set off through town as the sun finally took hold of the day, the four-beat clack of metal horse shoes on pavement echoing down the streets. My body settled into its normal rhythm. I'd spent years perfecting the perfect seat; years training my legs in the unnatural angle of forward, back and down. My core absorbed each bounce in her spine, I leaned into each movement as her hindquarters curled beneath her. Long and tall and perfectly centered - that almost-forgotten confidence came back to me. My body was home, and I knew there was almost nothing she could do to make me falter. So we became one. We jogged through coffee plantations and dodged low hanging branches; the sour, pungent smell of raw coffee shells in the air. We pranced around street dogs, their bravery challenged with every step. We galloped on straightaways, both our hair flowing behind us; her Criollo confirmation smooth and steady beneath the saddle, her crest arched in a balanced frame that surprised even me - a gift passed down through thousands of years of bloodlines from Spain.”

-Tess Thomas, The Laughing Diet; “Regresando”

Coron + El Nido (Palawan). | November 2018

“Every morning I boarded a wooden boat and hopped from island to island. The salt water softened the curls in my hair. The sun brought my skin tone closer to god. I swam in hidden lakes on the top of volcanic mountains and snorkeled with lion fish and pygmy seahorses. I went scuba diving through sunken Japanese WWII supply ships at the bottom of the South China Sea, the colossal vessels lying hauntingly still in their watery graves. I laid out for hours on vacant white sand beaches reading page after page of Tayari Jones. I ate crab for every lunch - the thin shells slicing my fingers in pursuit of the sweetest meat. I ate Pacific lobster for every supper and let the butter drip down my chin. I floated weightlessly in vast lagoons as the sun warmed the crown of my head from above, the green ocean waters heating me from below.”

-Tess Thomas, The Laughing Diet; “Silence Also Speaks”

Tokyo + Kyoto. | September 2018

“My first stop was a hole-in-the-wall ramen restaurant outside of Shinjuku Station. I sat at the counter, protectively slid my suitcase between my legs, and pointed to a photo on the laminated menu. Within a few minutes the waitress was eagerly serving me water and a steaming bowl of shio ramen. The smell and the heat were overwhelming, the vaporization adding to the soft sweat that had already begun to form on my brow from the summer heat. I took the hard plastic spoon in my left hand and dipped it into the simple broth before bringing it to my lips. The liquid filled my mouth and lazily slid down my throat. I closed my eyes in utter ecstasy. I followed with long, dangling, heaping strings of noodles that filled my belly too quickly, but I didn't stop. Slices of pork, onions, dried garlic, and a perfect soft-cooked egg followed - spoonful after spoonful - until my bowl was empty of every single drop. I put down my spoon and settled into a satisfaction I hadn't felt since I can't remember when, gathered my bags and braved the endless sea of people on the Shinjuku streets.”

-Tess Thomas, The Laughing Diet; “Ryokō-sha”

Rio de Janeiro + São Paulo + Salvador + Florianópolis + Maresias  |  2013 - Present

"My heart feels calm in her streets. My body at ease with her music. My stomach is filled full by her sustenance, bringing back the nostalgia of childhood flavors and dishes I never grew up on. My hair curls more loudly and, safe within her borders, I let it scream freely. My skin softens and drips with life-giving beads of perspiration. My beauty is black and unapologetic on her beaches."

-Tess Thomas, The Laughing Diet; “The Girl from Ipanema”

Trebinje | May 2019

Havana + Viñales + Viñales Valley + Cayo Levisa | July 2018

“Everything was broken. The streets were broken, the buildings were broken, the stray dogs and cats that dodged between our feet were all broken. The city smelled of hot trash and horse manure, yet I found beauty in every detail and the smile never faded from my face. We explored each avenue and alley of the old city, stopping every few hours to cool our minds and wet our tongues with mojitos or cafe con leche drowned in ice. Our laughter flowed. Our feet walked in rhythm with the salsa drums and the echo of metal horse shoes on pavement. I captured scene after scene through my camera lens, the colors of every shot were dizzying and electric and addictive through my eyes. Havana was old and crippled and she was hurting, the pain seeping out of each crack and corner, but she was alive. And I was alive within her.”

-Tess Thomas, The Laughing Diet; “Cuba Libre”

Lisbon + Sintra.  |  June 2017

"I found myself without agenda these last few days...walking the cobble stone streets with an ice cream in hand allowing my intuition to play map. I went from corner cafe to corner cafe ordering fresh juices and agua com gas while reading pages from my book. I ate octopus rice. I ate croquettes of goat cheese and cod. I frequented rooftop patios to watch the sea of orange tiles that busied every single roof in Lisbon."

-Tess Thomas, The Laughing Diet; “Coup de Foudre”

Central Bali + East Bali + South Bali + Nusa Penida (Diving)  |  March 2018

"We made our way to Tirta Empul, a water temple built on a holy natural spring where I prepared to bathe in the sacred waters. Wrapping my body in a green sarong, I slipped into the pool as fish evaded my steps, carefully placing my feet on black sloping stones sculpted from the temple walls. The green fabric floated amongst the blue around me as my body sank deeper and deeper into the water. I glided to one of the fountains spouting a steady stream of holy water and wrapped my fingers around the open-mouthed statue from which it flowed. The water flushed fast and heavy on my head, it's purifying properties splashing into the bath around me. I closed my eyes, breathing sporadically through the corners of my mouth. I chanted a mantra for the world beneath my breath and pictured that water wiping me clean of everything that came before." 

-Tess Thomas, The Laughing Diet; “Pura”

Buenos Aires + Patagonia + Mar del Plata + Mendoza + Tigre  |  2012 - Present

"I grew up in Buenos Aires.  At the age of 29 I had finally learned to live.  I finally learned to be a woman.  To be an adult.  To be a professional.  To truly love myself.  I learned so much about friendship, about travel, about love, about heartbreak, about losing everything and gaining it back again.  This Christmas, after so many challenges and obstacles faced this year, it only felt natural to go back. To find myself again.  To remember what I’m capable of and why it matters."

- Tess Thomas, The Laughing Diet; “Home”.

Hanoi + Ha Long Bay + Saigon + Mekong Delta  |   March 2018

"Narrow streets punctuated every block, overflowing with storefronts and people and parked motorbikes. Restaurants sprouted from cooking pots and short plastic chairs in alleyways, serving local delicacies like bun oc, pho and bun cha. We ate rice paper crab rolls fried in oil. We ate banh mi sandwiches wrapped in paper. Each corner was decorated with foods wrapped in banana leaves and barbecued meats skewered on wooden sticks. We sipped egg coffee from wide cups and fought for our lives every time we crossed the street. I wasn't certain about Ha Noi at first, but little by little her charms found their way into my heart. I loved the narrow buildings with floor after floor stacked on top of each other. I loved the way children played on parked motorbikes like jungle gyms. At night we walked the markets, navigating our way through stands of clothes and trinkets, evading the taps and pulls from vendors demanding our patronage." 

-Tess Thomas, The Laughing Diet; “Good Morning, Vietnam”

Sydney + Port Stephens  |  November 2015

Vancouver  |  May 2016

Colonia + Montevideo + Punta del Este + Punta Rubia + Punta del Diablo + Cabo Polonio  |  2013 - 2015

Jávea + Alicante + Valencia + Barcelona + Ibiza  |  2015 - Present

"I'd spent the day touring the works of Antoni Gaudi and getting lost within the narrow passageways of the Gothic Quarter. I'd spent hours gazing at the intricacies of cathedral architecture and eating Jamon Iberico from paper cups. After a dinner of heavy tapas and tempranillo, I walked aimlessly through the darkened corridors avoiding tourists and stopping only to have conversations in Spanish with the local dogs. I rounded a corner to find an early century cathedral selling last minute tickets to a classical guitar concert. I bought one (I'm no fool) and within thirty minutes was seated in historically uncomfortable catholic pews watching Pedro Javier Gonzalez playing flamenco and classical Spanish guitar. By the second song I was wiping tears from my eyes, as were many around me. For the second time in so many days my very existence had been shattered."

-Tess Thomas, The Laughing Diet; “Coup de Foudre”

Maui + Kauai + The Big Island  |  2007 - Present

"We bought a coconut and drank the milk; slurped the soft meat from the husks before leaving any last remnants for the local birds. After finding a place in the sand, I excitedly stripped down and bounded towards the ocean, feeling like a kid again. The water was the perfect contrast to the heat of the day. My skin shone in the green waters, and I could see my toes skipping on the watery bottom, catching glimpses of small fish every so often. I went through cycles of floating on my back and diving as deep as my bravery would allow me."

-Tess Thomas, The Laughing Diet; “Blue Hawaii”

Dumfries + Glasgow + Edinburgh + Dundee + Inverness  |  2007 - 2011

Puerto Vallarta + Sayulita + Guadalajara + Morelia + Pátzcuaro + Tequila + Santa Fe de la Laguna  |  2015 - Present

Rome + Florence + Venice  |  September 2011

Santiago + Valparaíso  |  October 2013

London  |  August 2011