Category Archive: outside the comfort zone

Campeche nights, snakes and ebola

August afternoons in southern Mexico are punishing, but when the sun goes down off the coast of Campeche, the air takes on an apologetic softness to reward you for surviving the broiler hours.… Continue reading

I had to come home to remember how to feel out of place.

I’m at home in the souk of El Jadida, talking to bouncers in Riga, and arriving in Yangon without a clue. I was comfortable on the streets of a city 99% said is… Continue reading

Why would you want to go there?

I told a Salvadoran friend of mine that I would be passing through his country, and asked what he thought I should do there. His response surprised me.   “You’re going to El… Continue reading

Why I travel

Take me back. Take me back to rotting garbage on dirty streets, where water is a luxury and stink a certainty. I want to feel unwashed and threadbare sheets on hard beds, and… Continue reading

The agony and the ecstasy.

I can’t believe it’s still like this, after all this time. In another of the contrasts and contradictions of human existence, the thing that gives me so much ecstasy, travel, insists on bringing… Continue reading

Is that a good start or a bad one? Jungle Birthday Part 2.

I’ll just come out and say it: I was wearing flip flops. Old ones. This may surprise you, given that I was hiking six hours each way to spend the night in the… Continue reading

Time to leave the loop.

If Istanbul struck me immediately as awesome, Antalya is just the opposite. Within a few minutes of arriving in the giant bus station I wanted to leave again, and the rest of the… Continue reading

It’s all ending; it’s all beginning.

On the night I left for Nicaragua, a year and a week ago exactly, I took a moment on the drive to the airport to take my hands off the wheel (the road… Continue reading

~Guest blog from/for my friend Lisa in South Africa

Today I’m reblogging, but wordpress and blogspot don’t seem to allow cross-website reposting. I feel like the proverbial kid whose parents won’t talk to each other. In the summer of 2010, before I’d… Continue reading

Riding on top of the world, Ecuador.

It turns out that the quarter-century old impressions of a six year old are not necessarily accurate. Because that was the last time I rode a horse, and I remembered the feel of… Continue reading