A home for Alvaro
“My daughter is a musician,” were Alvaro’s proud words as we shared a taxi into Caracas. He was the program coordinator for the Witness for Peace delegation that I had come to Venezuela… Continue reading
Category Archive: people
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At what point does fondling an animal get weird?
At what point does fondling an animal get weird? You may never have asked yourself that question, but hey, that’s what I’m here for: to expand your horizons. Is it when you… Continue reading
Cuba. Where do I start?
Where do I start to talk about Cuba? A prequel in the Miami hotel, ostensibly close but a world away from Cuba, where a plethora of pillows was unable to conceal the… Continue reading
Juan the Priest
He made the pupusa girl smile. Her mother laughed, and I probably blushed. Their reactions were the most common, smiles and laughter, and I saw them again and again on face after face… Continue reading
Joaquin Media Barba
The buses all had places to go, and gas to burn to get there. The expressionless faces of passengers (some things are universal) turned towards me through rattling window panes as I waited… Continue reading
Soothing scraping on a Peruvian morning
The party people from Lima were still sleeping it off, or maybe they had just gone to bed, so I was alone at breakfast in San Bartolo, on the coast of Peru. A… 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
Latvia, a second memory of an Ethical Destination
The two men could be twins, though they would have to be of the “long-lost” variety. One of them works in Washington, D.C. with all the other ambassadors, and flies out to San… Continue reading
Blue Dragon
Should I tell you some of their stories? Do you want to hear about the young boy whose mother died? About how his father was sent to jail and he was left to… Continue reading
Bored women, guns, and the company that owns you; in Costa Rica.
I walked up to the harbor in Paquera, Costa Rica, unexpectedly up to my dripping armpits in happy-grumpy-sweaty white people. Most had rented cars, but a few backpackers were sprinkled in, though somehow none… Continue reading
