MAGICAL TIMES WITH MAGICAL PEOPLE

Being a tour guide is a wild ride. Every day, I meet new people—strangers who, in a matter of hours, become something much more. It’s a beautiful experience, but for someone as emotionally invested as I am, it’s also a challenge. Getting attached is inevitable. How could it not be? We spend over eight hours together, discovering each other, laughing, pushing past our fears, and stepping into the unknown.

There’s something special about sharing a journey that goes beyond sightseeing. Whether it’s the thrill of an adventure, the quiet peace of a meditative moment, or the deep sense of accomplishment after a day filled with unforgettable experiences, these moments strip away all the layers. When people let go of their daily routines and embrace the present, their true nature shines through. And that’s where the magic happens.

I’ve decided to write about these times, but not in a strict chronological way. These stories will unfold as they come to me—spontaneous, unexpected, and sometimes downright hilarious.

So here’s to the magical times with magical people—the kind of experiences that make saying goodbye just a little harder but every hello even more special.

Creating Magical Times: The Power of Adventure & Connection

I knew from the moment Sarah stepped off the train that she wasn’t entirely convinced about this tour. She adjusted her sun hat like it was a helmet, clutched her backpack like a life raft, and, when I greeted her with a big smile, gave me a nervous little wave—the kind that says, I’m already regretting this.

She had booked the tour alone, a last-minute decision after her best friend bailed on their Spain trip. “I don’t really do… adventure,” she admitted within the first five minutes. “I’m more of a… café and bookstore kind of person.”

Perfect.

The day started gently—just a beautiful hike through the forest, with golden light filtering through the trees. Sarah loosened up, started chatting with the others, and even laughed when someone slipped on a rock (don’t worry, they were fine). But then, we reached the waterfall.

A breathtaking cascade of clear, cool water, pouring down into a natural pool. The perfect place to cool off, to feel alive. The others kicked off their shoes, waded in, and then—one by one—took the leap from the rocks above.

Sarah stood at the edge, arms crossed. “Nope.”

I grinned. “You don’t have to.”

“…But you want me to.”

“I want you to do something that surprises even yourself.”

For the next ten minutes, she watched everyone leap, scream, splash, and emerge from the water exhilarated. I didn’t push. I just waited. And then, she took a deep breath.

“Okay. But if I die, you’re writing a very dramatic eulogy.”

She climbed up. Stood at the edge. Looked down. And froze. “I changed my mind.”

“You don’t have to jump,” I reminded her.

She exhaled. “But I want to.”

And then—just like that—she leapt.

For a full two seconds, time stopped. And then, with a splash, she hit the water, disappeared beneath the surface, and came up gasping, laughing, screaming.

“I DID IT! I CAN’T BELIEVE I DID IT!”

The rest of the day? She was unstoppable. First in the water, first up the trail, first to suggest a second round of snacks. By the end of the tour, she had changed from the hesitant, overthinking tourist into someone who had jumped—literally and figuratively—into something unknown.

As we said our goodbyes, she hugged me tight. “I needed today more than I realized.”

And just like that, another stranger became a little more than just a passing face.