I recently had cause to think back on some of the places in the world – my world – where I was most happy. Certainly, they were nearly all beautiful and peaceful. But not always. Some were surprisingly comfortable and comforting in unusual ways. I remember happy places where I felt most safe and most seen.

A box of lifejackets, for instance. Traveling as a teenager between Newfoundland and the mainland, I had barely been able to pay the fare for the trip let alone pay extra for sleeping accommodations.

Traveling “suiteless” meant you could end up sleeping on hard plastic theater seats on one end of the boat or the other. There was always the floor if my kit included a sleeping bag and a backpack I could fashion into a pillow. Sometimes I carried a pack but sometimes I didn’t.

To this day, I don’t remember how I discovered the box of life preservers. Natural curiosity I suppose. But I do remember looking into the sturdy grey-painted plywood box full of equally grey PFD’s (personal flotation devices) and having an Aha! moment. There were at least two feet of space between the cover and the lifejackets. I could fit in there. No sweat!

But I was civic-minded and afraid enough of the law to not open up and settle amongst the life preservers without “permission.” I took my idea to a kindly-looking purse nearby. I interpreted his first reaction to my request as not to fetch the law but maybe the whitecoats. Registering how young I was, he quickly softened and granted me “permission” to sleep in the life preserver box overnight.

He added – unnecessarily, I thought: “You’ll have to get out of the box right quick if da passengers need ’em.” The brogue was strong and to me, that meant he had that Newfoundlander born-in-the-bone sensibility about helping your fellow human beings. I slept the sleep of the just on the ferry crossing that night.

Other happy places were further afield in the world. In India, somewhere near New Delhi, I believe it was, a nice young Indian Sikh in a red turban took me to a temple at dusk. The setting sun was that magnificent red and orange and purple that defies description even in pictures. You can only fully appreciate it if you see it for yourself.

At a point, the Sikh raised his hands and clapped. A cacophony of budgerigars came flying out and swooping down from the rafters. They were every imaginable color that “budgies” could be. And there were thousands of them. Living outside. Free and magnificent.

They flew several thousands of meters away from the temple. They were like a light show or living rainbow that cackled in unison as budgies in captivity sometimes do. But these beautiful birds were not on a perch in a sad, little pet shop. Their beauty took me aback as did the young man’s ability to cause them to fly on command. Or so it seemed.

There was a particular stop on a Himalayan trek that has stayed deep within me. On a gorgeous morning with a postcard-clear blue sky, I stopped on my trek to put down my pack at a stone cairn to rest. When I turned around, the full majesty of Mt. Everest rose before me. Its apex was covered in snow being blown by high mountain winds. The peak was framed on either side by clusters of multi-colored flowers from the rhododendron forests it sat behind in the distance.

“Rhododendrons?” I wondered aloud. My mind clung to an image of small tidy bushes planted by the front steps that many Canadian gardeners cultivated. But these were in no way that. These were tall, towering trees heavy with blooms in red, white, and pink. My trek through the canopy of Rhodos was more special when I realized I would not likely see such magnificent trees as these anywhere else on the planet.

Other happy places I’ve been to have been smaller and more private. Snuggling beneath a down comforter or featherbed, preferably with a hot cup of tea and milk. Sitting down in the middle of a forest propped up against a stately old moss-covered tree, absorbing the cool and the woodland fragrance. Sitting in snow, carefully shielded from the cold, and breathing in the ir that froze the hairs in my nose.

Occasionally I have also found a deep level of peace and happiness in someone’s arms. This unique comfort generic to lovers is but one of a million reasons why coupling up is attractive. Just knowing there is another living, human being breathing beside you, ready to face the day with all of its potential joy and challenges is amazing.

So today I feel myself drifting off to another happy place. The ocean off Sri Lanka where schools of brightly colored aquatic fish and marine life swam before me in an endless pageant of color and shapes. Again, that vista offered the dual comforts of peace and beauty.

I never forget that I am beyond fortunate to have these happy places to revisit. I was very fortunate to have visited them in the first place.

And I am also very happy for the chance to go back into my memories whenever I want to relive them again when I want to. Like now, for example…