Monthly Archive: August, 2014


I wasn’t supposed to be in that girl’s shower. As the property manager, it was not my place to be in a tenant’s bathroom for any reason other than inspection or as an… Continue reading

Getting gas in Venezuela

It’s a routine errand, expensive, kinda smelly, and utterly unexciting, for millions (billions?) of people. Filling up the tank. Getting gas. Burning dinosaur bones. (And you were worried this was a chronological consequence… Continue reading

Food porn, Venezuela style

The pupusas of El Salvador clearly made an impression on me, but Venezuela was ready with a rebound relationship. The arepa is the traditional and quintessential food item of Venezuela and Colombia, dating… Continue reading

Pussycat love and perspective on/in Israel

So yes, Jerusalem felt like it wanted to hate me. But I still fell head-over-heels in love in the city. I suspect he was a male. He had clean teeth, big feet, and… Continue reading

I fear for Israel; or, Jerusalem wanted to hate me.

“I need a little more time to know for sure how I feel about Jerusalem…” was all I could say after I left there last year. Months went by, and I never came back… Continue reading

A battalion of sauces, lots of boobies, and sheer normalcy on the streets of Caracas.

(In deference to the blogosphere’s reverence for brevity, I split this post in two; the first half is here)   After clearing customs, hearing of youthful harlots, and being warned that the water… Continue reading

Arriving in Caracas, Part 1 of 2; or, my niece’s birthday party was a porno scene

The plane landed at Caracas’ Simon Bolivar International Airport with a stronger bump than most, and taxied past a row of unfamiliar logos on modest fuselages. Between the recent unrest, and, more importantly,… Continue reading