As the summer sun beat down on the emerald waters of Pasco County, Florida, a treasure hunt unfolded beneath me. We glided through the clear shallows of the gulf waters, our eyes scanning the seagrass below for telltale flashes of blue - the tiny eyes of bay scallops peeking out from their fan-shaped shells.

Gliding silently through the winding channels of the Okavango Delta, I felt a bit nervous. Our mokoro canoe, a type of dugout canoe skillfully guided by a local poler, sliced through the murky waters as we navigated past water lilies. But the large pod of hippos standing at the shore not too far away dampened the soothing atmosphere. The remaining serenity was suddenly broken by a loud splash and grunt – a reminder that we were sharing these waters with some of Africa's most formidable creatures.

The Basque Block in Boise, Idaho, stands as a vibrant testament to the rich cultural heritage of one of the state's most distinctive ethnic communities. This historic stretch of Grove Street, once home to some of Boise's earliest and most prominent families, now serves as a thriving center of Basque culture and cuisine.

Buffeted by ferocious winds, I stared into the abyss of an open airplane door. The bright South Carolina June sky and cotton candy clouds seemed a cruel contrast to the darkness gripping me — an innate fear of falling that has haunted me for years. I could barely hear my Skydive Carolina instructor Cathy Abelleira's words in my ear as I clenched my jaw.