I wasn’t prepared for this
You love your friends and what matters to them matters to you, so of course you say yes when they invite you to come see their newborn baby. Of course. Over to the… Continue reading
Category Archive: transcendent experiences
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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
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
Dog is my guru, an off season pilgrimage to Sri Pada.
The guidebooks and the Christians will tell you the footprint at the peak belongs to Adam, left when he first stepped to Earth after being cast out from Eden. The Buddhists say it’s… Continue reading
Happy, sad, Bieber…I’m feeling it all.
It was the best of timing, it was the worst of timing. I think Charles Dickens is writing my life right now. I came to Kandy just in time for the Buddhist holiday… Continue reading
Two travelgasms and a tragedy. Hasankeyf Part 2.
Either ancient cave houses don’t fascinate Turkish tourists as much as they do me, or they were seriously lacking in endurance, because I quickly left all the other visitors behind as I walked… Continue reading
Getting catty under the Northern Lights
Where am I? Am I on a bus? Why is someone on a PA system telling me stuff about the Northern Lights? Maybe a midnight Northern Lights tour was not the best choice… Continue reading
Where I’ve been living and what I’ve been loving.
With only a week left in the US, and less than that in Santa Cruz, I have reached the time for goodbyes. I’m eating last meals with friends new and old, and savoring… 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
The Valley of Eden
The German who told us about Vilcabamba was not young. Nor would she be considered old anywhere but a college campus or youth hostel, but we were in the latter. In a youth… Continue reading
