By Anamarija Kolimbatovic.
There is a certain kind of truth that only the road can offer. It doesn’t come through facts or headlines, but through raw encounters—sunburned cheeks, shared silences, fire-lit stories, and the gaze of someone who carries generations in their hands. This is what I chase, and this is why I write.
My name is Anamarija, and I am a woman, a traveler, and a journalist who believes that storytelling—when done with heart—can be a quiet revolution. Travel journalism is not just a career path for me; it’s a sacred calling. It’s a way of being in the world with open eyes, bare feet, and an ear pressed to the heartbeat of the Earth.
I believe we are here to witness.
To witness the strength of indigenous women growing food in rhythms older than any flag. To witness the sustainability that isn’t a trend, but a way of life grounded in listening—to the land, the rains, the moon cycles. To witness the histories that have
been told a thousand times, and yet—when you sit long enough—begin to whisper questions we’ve forgotten to ask.
I do not travel to escape. I travel to remember.
This upcoming journey to Oaxaca is my passion project. I’m going there not just as a journalist, but as a student—ready to learn from women-led and eco-centered collectives who are courageously protecting what’s sacred. Their work is deeply local and yet global in its importance. They remind me that activism isn’t always loud; sometimes it’s in planting seeds, weaving baskets, or resisting by staying.
I’m drawn to the untold, the quietly brave, the ancestral. I believe in the power of storytelling to uplift voices that often go unheard—not to speak over them, but to listen deeply, to share space, and to honor the stories as they are.
To me, travel is not a series of destinations. It is a devotion. A promise to slow down enough to see—to really see. The rivers that have carried songs. The forests that remember. The people who still live close to the soil, close to the stars. There is a kind of magic in this world, a delicate beauty that often hides in plain sight.
My journalism is rooted in that wonder.
This planet is enchanting. So many ecosystems folded into one another, so many textures of life—human, terrestrial, ancient, sacred. I write because I want to understand how humans interact with nature, how we’ve both harmed and harmonized with it. I believe that in giving voice to these connections, we help protect them.
And sometimes, the best thing we can do is say nothing at all—just let the wind, the silence, the presence of a place wash over us. Not every story needs words. But every story needs to be felt.
So here I am, walking toward Oaxaca with open hands and an open heart. I am proud of the stories I tell. Not because they are mine, but because they mean something—to this Earth, to its people, to the way we might still save what matters.
Thank you for walking with me.
This article is part of the practical work carried out by the students of the Master’s in Travel Journalism.
