National Geographic airs a fascinating program, “Locked Up Abroad,” that tells tales nightmares are made of: getting locked up while traveling. When I want to feel better about my travels, this is the show I watch. It’s one of those train wrecks of awful, where you want to reach out and shake people for the decisions they make.

You’ve probably read stories. Seen movies. Perhaps you’ve even done a double-take of what could happen if your momentary lack of good judgement resulted in being thrown in the slammer in a country where you didn’t speak the language and the embassy might not be able to be your knight in shining armor.

This week’s episode, which airs on Wednesday, May 23 at 10 p.m. Eastern and Pacific is one of those that makes you wonder what on earth people were thinking. “Black Palace of Horrors” tells the tale of Dwight Worker, one of only two people who have ever escaped from Mexico’s Lecumberri Prison. Back in 1973, Worker was busted in Mexico City for smuggling cocaine to the US via a fake shoulder cast. Once he was caught, he was locked up in the infamous Lecumberri Prison, also known as the “Black Palace.”

As it goes with being locked up abroad, his life sucked. He had to fight off being gang raped. He nearly died thanks to being stabbed. He even ended up being placed in the pysch ward (and why not? Life there was hell!). But, while he was there, he also met Barbara Chilcoate, a visitor. Like most modern day romances, the two fell in love and, together the love birds crafted one of the most jaw-dropping prison breaks. On his wedding day, in prison, he attempted to escape while made up as a woman.

Which makes me wonder … how far would I go to escape a life in the slammer in another country? Which leads me to the question, would I ever do something that lacks such udder judgement to end up there in the first place?

The truth …

I’m not going to lie. I have done some seriously stupid stuff while traveling in the past.When I was in my early 20s and thought I was invincible (or just didn’t think). Looking back … man, I was an absolute idiot.

Don’t want to get locked up abroad? I swear, it is common sense stuff. But, sometimes you need to read it to be reminded.

So … skip this stupid stuff:

1. Don’t do drugs in foreign countries. Seriously. Don’t. And, if my words of advice aren’t enough, at least do your homework and find out what the laws are should you get busted. These little dalliances can result in jail time in places that are not forgiving. Even countries you think are somewhat lax in their laws in regards to drugs … I knew someone in Croatia who got busted smoking pot. Ended up in jail. Sounds like a great way to have a vacation, yes? The Full Moon parties in Thailand? Just because everyone else is popping pills doesn’t mean you have to. I’ve heard horror stories from party-goers there and rumors of drug searches on the beach.

2. Keep calm. Drunken nights in bars can sometimes lead to aggression. Breathe deep. Walk away. Don’t fight.

3. Don’t be overly helpful. Meaning, if someone asks you to carry something for them, deliver something for them … just don’t. “Brokedown Palace” anyone?

4. Know the rules. Some places are far more conservative than others. Public intoxication. Skinny dipping. Mind your manners.

5. Do not ever, ever, ever joke about terror plots.

While this all seems like common sense (and it really is), there’s a reason shows like “Locked Up Abroad” exist: because people forget to exercise it.

Want real life stories to keep you on the straight and narrow while traveling? Tune in Wednesday to the latest episode of “Locked Up Abroad.”

Have you ever gotten locked up while traveling? Share your story below!

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It’s about an hour drive from Klädesholmen to the more bustling town of Lysekil in Western Sweden. Along the way, E6 gives way to local roads where rolling green hills with granite cliffs are the norm.

Once arriving in Lysekil, it’s easy to just spend time wandering around the center of town. But, for those with time, hop on the local ferry to Skaftö, an island opposite Lysekil’s south harbor. The old fishing villages on the island are nothing short of quiet and relaxing where the call of gulls and the buzzing of bees take center stage against the calm waters and old homes.

The island, which is only five miles long and three miles wide, boasts gorgeous views and nature every step of the way.

Fiskebäckskil is particularly beautiful and it offers hours of simply wandering among rocks where the shore laps up against the stunning village.

Editor’s Note: My time in Sweden is courtesy of Visit Sweden, however all opinions are my own. If you have questions regarding this, please read my disclosure policy.

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This archipelago in western Sweden is very much like me today. Sleepy.

A mid-morning ferry from the mainland to Marstrand has approximately four people on it. Including me.

Founded in the 1300s, this quaint island, which comes alive in the summer, is nearly deserted today. Which is a beautiful thing because it lets me go and wander around without having to dodge anyone.

The herring capital of Europe in the 1600s, today, people flock to this gorgeous  town for the sailing and nature.

In fact, when I stop in a hotel to question what goes on here in the off-season, the reply I receive is simple: people come here to wander around the island. With gray waters against granite outcroppings, along with the soft cry of seagulls, it is easy to be just like this woman in the photo: quietly relishing the moment of beauty.

Join me this week as I travel through Sweden! Follow along on Instagram and Twitter #myswedentrip, plus be sure to check back here for photos and more in the coming weeks!

Editor’s Note: My time in Sweden is courtesy of Visit Sweden, however all opinions are my own. If you have questions regarding this, please read my disclosure policy.

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The blinking red of my Blackberry alerting me to a new e-mail catches my attention as I sit on my couch, only a few days after returning from Red Mountain Resort.

I’m still happy. Still blissfully happy.

I pull up the e-mail on my phone and scan it quickly.

Holy. Shit.

It’s from Elephant Nature Park.

A letter from Lek. Telling me she wants me to come to Thailand and work for her doing PR and writing.

Suddenly, my breath falls short.

Tears blur  my vision.

How on earth?

I open my laptop and pull the e-mail up so I can make sure I am not imaging anything.

I’m not.

It is an offer to move to Thailand. To live my recently realized dream. To help save elephants.

Immediately, I call my mom. It’s late in Maryland, after 10 p.m. I know she won’t be happy to get a call this late, but I reason this news cannot wait until morning.

“Mom!” I sob into the phone. “You won’t believe this …”

Within minutes, we are both crying as I read her the e-mail, as we both sit and remark over and over: “I cannot believe this.”

“It’s all because of this past weekend at Red Mountain Resort and the reiki and the shamanic healing,” I remark. “Because of what happened. My energy is different now. I’m happy … and look what has happened.”

“You put it out there, and you got it, D!”

I mentally cross “Save Elephants” off of my list of things accomplished once I put it out there.

“What are you going to do about work?”

“Well, I don’t know yet. I still have to work out all of the arrangements with the park … I guess I will quit in the next few weeks or a month or something …” I say.

Although I wish I could march up to the job tomorrow and resign.

After we hang up, I sit in silence. Staring at the e-mail, gently stroking Keely behind her ears as she purrs in my lap.

My life is changing. And, it’s all because of me.

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The palatial Hotel Adlon, originally built in the early 1900s, was resurrected in the heart of Berlin following WWII (the main portion of the building was damaged in a fire caused by a Soviet soldier during the war).

In history, it is known as one of the most famous hotels in Europe between the two World Wars. It’s welcomed politicians, celebs, and has even been used as a set for movies. However, you may know it for something entirely different …

Look closely.

That balcony? It’s where Michael Jackson dangled his baby son, Blanket, in November 2002.

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“Mom!!” I scream into my phone as I drive away from Red Mountain Resort under the sinking Utah sun. “Something has happened!”

“Are you OK? What is it? Where are you?”

Entirely breathless, I launch into the past two days at Red Mountain. The desperation. The reiki. The shamanic healing.

“And now … something is different. I can’t even begin to explain it,” I marvel in utter disbelief on the quick change my life has suddenly made.

It’s only been 20 minutes, but I’m high. There is no sad in me anymore.

The sadness, the pain, the hatred, which reared its ugly head and began to drag me down, down, down, has disappeared.

My heart is racing. My shoulders are relaxed. There is this sense of peace I have never felt before that moves through my veins, beats with each pump of blood in my heart.

Suddenly, I am OK.

“Wow,” Mom says after I’ve explained what has just happened to me. “Ride this, D. Ride it as long as you can. But, if you start to feel sad again, don’t get discouraged. Remember this moment and how you feel.”

I promise her I will, and then I drive back in to Las Vegas.

There’s a point when coming into the city I used to loathe: a spot on I-15 when the desert gives way to the resort-laden Las Vegas skyline.

Tonight, as I drive in against a thick black, starless sky, and the bright lights of hotels glimmering in the distance, I don’t feel anything but total elation.

This is my chance to make my life right. This is my chance to love where I am. To love who I am … and I DO.

For the first time in months, I fall asleep and sleep through the night. And, in the morning, I wake up feeling the same high as the day before. I am energized. I have a bounce in my step. I stand in the mirror, trying to think a negative thought about me. But, something happens. I can’t. I don’t cringe. I don’t see something ugly. I see a girl who has finally found her way, finally made those demons who sat on her shoulder whispering into her ear every insecurity in the world have nothing to whisper.

It’s as if a spell has been cast on me.

I am incapable of feeling bad for myself. I am incapable of hating myself. I look in the mirror and I smile … and it is genuine.

I. Am. Happy. Healed.

And, I know what needs to be done with my life.

When I met with the shaman, she had explained to me the need to put my desires out into the universe, to let the world know what I want.

So, on this gorgeous Sunday morning, glowing from the weekend, I put the following out:

I want to quit my job.

I want to travel.

I want to work with elephants.

And then, as if on cue, the universe takes notice.

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A majestic city split into two by the Danube River, Budapest’s House of Parliament is one of the most breathtaking sites in the city. The neo-Gothic structure with Byzantine features is located on the shore of the Danube, on the Pest portion of the city. Its giant dome can be seen from numerous spots in town, including from the hills of Buda.

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There were many things I got to enjoy during my visit to the Valencia region. For one, we ate. A lot. I had the best meal of my life in Alicante. And, we adventured. Or, tried to. I never have great luck with adventures, especially when it comes to sea navigation. We danced in the streets around bonfires. We chilled on the soft sand of the Mediterranean. And, we attended the Formula 1 Grand Prix races.

I never knew a thing about F-1 (or cared), until I saw the shiny red Ferrari with Alonso behind the wheel. Then, I was sold. Packed into the grand stand on a hot June day, we were up-close to all of the racing action.

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Croatia is one of those countries that holds a very special spot in my heart. It’s the place where I opened my mind to others and was enlightened; was witness to the kindness of strangers; met one of the most remarkable women in the world; and was where I learned about love, life and loss when my grandmother passed away.

It is also home to the Adriatic Sea. This crystal, clear sea and I have spent many, many weeks together. I’ve relaxed on warm rocks along the coast. Bopped along on a little boat through the flat surface. I’ve even gone skinny dipping in the inky black waters at night. The sea, to me, is one of the most gorgeous I’ve ever had the opportunity to dip my toes in, and one I dream of returning to regularly.

When my grandmother died, I took a stone from the sea to bring back to America and place at her grave, that’s how special this country is to me.

This photo is along the shore of Solta, a tiny technicolor island that is largely untouched by tourists.

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Located in the heart of Madrid is one of those places you’d be remiss to skip — the palatial Reina Sofia Musuem (Museo Nacional Centro de Arte Reina Sofia).

The museum came highly recommend from my art-inclined friends back home.

“You can’t miss it,” one said.

“It is so breathtaking,” said another.

And they were right.

So, first thing on a Saturday morning, I lined up to experience this attraction for myself.

I was not disappointed.

Named after the Queen Sofia of Spain, the museum features mostly Spanish art, including works from Pablo Picasso and Salvador Dali.

Like the city itself, I quickly fell in love with the work on display.

The journey for me began with a walk through the immense courtyard.

Then, I wandered through the many rooms featuring different artists and exhibits.

One of my favorite exhibits ...

Getting there: Located near the Prado, take the metro to Atocha.

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