By Anamarija Kolimbatovic
When I first started my lessons at the School of Travel Journalism, travelling to a remote part of the world to do a project seemed like something bordering with a fairy tale, great in imagination, challenging in real life.
The more I learned the more I realized where I had to go. It happened gradually, first a few clues, than an idea and then a concept of what I might do. Weaving it all together, I decided I have to go to Mexico. The process wasn’t as ideal as I presented it right now but it had a touch of destiny to it.
What triggered me most was the class on ethics in journalism, especially the part explaining what is responsible storytelling and content impact. One of the sentences that really got to me was this one: “There is no protecting nature if there is no protecting community.“
This is what sealed the deal for me.
What stands behind?
Like everyone else I was always reading travel adventures and dreaming of going to those captivating, out-of-this world places. Being a woman Indiana Jones was my life long dream but then I started questioning it. After much pondering and thinking, I realized this isn’t about me being anything but a vessel for stories.
Stories long forgotten, changed and shapeshifted into what the winning culture deems appropriate. Stories being told through voices not of the land. You know the saying: History is written by winners. Well, I say it is time the present is written by the truth.
Why Mexico?
After choosing my destination, I started exploring about it. Having lived in the Balkans my whole life, the only thing I know of Mexico is its indigenous people being slaughtered by conqistadors during one point in history when Europe decided to conquer the unexplored Americas.
I want to aright this knowledge and learn of the land by being in the land. Words matter. Community matters. Nature matters.
It is time we stop idealizing and projecting what we want a land to be and start listening.
Carlos Vargas wrote a beautiful piece about Mexico in the Harward Review and described it as:
“…a country of extraordinary cultural richness, a place where ancestral
roots intertwine with the present in a unique way.”
Like Carlos Vargas wrote: “Indigenous communities possess a treasure trove of traditional knowledge spanning a multitude of fields, from sustainable agriculture and biodiversity conservation to the complexities of traditional healing practices.”
I want to explore that. I want to listen deeply. And I want to be a medium for their stories to be told, not for spectacle, but for understanding. For presence. Because my highest honor is upholding the truth.
I don’t resonate with the way some people go to places and treat them like amusement parks — something to check off, to consume. Where pretense hangs in the air like fog, and animal sanctuaries are really just prisons. Where culture becomes performance.
To me, we are not tourists. We are visitors. We are travellers.
And that means every piece of earth we step on is not just land — it’s a living reflection of the people who belong to it. A sacred part of their soul. That deserves respect. That should never be changed or reshaped for entertainment.
When we travel, we have to remember: the land is a mirror of the community. And every community has, and should have, deep roots in the land they walk on.
So I invite everyone to be fellow visitors — not tourists — with open hearts, open ears, and reverence in our steps.
As a journalist, I carry the responsibility of storytelling with care. Every story I tell isn’t just an idea — it’s a life. It’s a truth. And the impact of how we tell those stories matters.
Because words shape the world. And I want to shape it truthfully; with reverence for the miracle it is
This article is part of the practical work carried out by the students of the Master’s in Travel Journalism.
