My Measures for election day
“There’s an election on Friday, so we’re leaving the country Thursday night, and will come back Sunday, if there’s no rioting or murdering going on. Make sure you do all your grocery shopping… Continue reading
Category Archive: Curacao
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Contrary, concurrent, and compatible.
We departed Curacao, ready to move on but not wanting to leave. With excitement for the future and reluctance to leave the past, we focused on the present, absorbed in the parallel universe… Continue reading
Dang pirates always confiscate my balls.
It wasn’t until four hours into the day’s travel, one flight done, one more to go, that I solved the mystery of all the weird people in the new Bogota airport. Yeah it’s… Continue reading
Our secret language is almost back.
Somehow, inexplicably but terribly predictably, our time in Curacao has flown by. But we haven’t been to that Surinamese restaurant, the aloe plantation, or on an organized snorkeling trip! But in less than… Continue reading
National Park, Curacao style.
Why would you, personally, go to a Caribbean Island? Got your answer? I’ll go out on a limb and guess it involves a swimsuit, sunscreen, and a beach chair. Anything else? (I put… Continue reading
What year is it and why am I so greasy?
I did something out of character tonight, and I don’t even feel bad about it. I plead temporary insanity. And peer pressure. And a spirit of adventure. K has a curiosity for experiences,… Continue reading
That cat just cut my hair.
I’ve heard your hair and fingernails grow faster in warm climates. I haven’t done the formal science, but I may go as Wolverine for Halloween this year. (I know, Freddie Kruger would be… Continue reading
Gringo Radio
All I want to talk about lately is fish, but I’ll give that a (short) break and tell you about the radio instead. I mentioned that Curacao is filled with Dutch, Spanish, English,… Continue reading
Drag queens of the sea make me feel welcome.
Our temporary home is a U-shaped complex of apartments around a pool, complete with several palm trees, and a small private beach. Pelicans and frigate birds fly overhead, and an utterly badass eagle… Continue reading
Dying through every pore.
I am a sweater. Not cable knit wool, but braids of salty liquid in stupid quantities. It’s a talent, a horrible horrible talent, and someday I will travel to Norway to have a… Continue reading
