Back in the paleotechnic dawn of the 21st century, my mother’s request was understandable. “Just call me once a week to let me know you’re alive,” she said, as I wandered off across… Continue reading
Nobody bombed Hoi An. North Vietnam, South Vietnam, even the Americans in their flying fortresses decided the ancient port city of the Champa Empire with its softly Southeast Asian old town and 16th… Continue reading
A friend recently informed me that there is indeed a War on Christmas. “Oh yes,” she said with the utmost gravitas, “They’re making it very hard for us to celebrate it.” As… Continue reading
My bus pulled up for a WC break on the way to Phuong Nha, Vietnam. A man drove a truck into a Christmas market in Berlin, Germany. Thousands of miles apart, but it’s… Continue reading
“Oh my god, she’s the cutest thing EVER!” cried Megan, one of the two other tourists besides myself following our local guide down the mountainside of Sapa, Vietnam. “I want to take her… Continue reading
Hanoi is of course many things, but one seems like a logical place to start. And nevermind that two come to mind first. So we’ll begin with the primary denizens of the city,… Continue reading
Sometime after that dawn bus ride and before the late night landing in a different country, and on a different calendar page. Somewhere since the home I know and this city I do… Continue reading
“Have you heard about all this fake news stuff on facebook? Isn’t that horrible?” asked the woman on the BART train last night. “Totally,” her companion answered, and added “like all this stuff… Continue reading
You always know it’s coming. But that doesn’t make it any easier. Yes, she’d been slowing down lately, showing her age, but that just meant she’d take short breaks while playing full-bore fetch… Continue reading
So…how’d it go? Anybody get in screaming matches about TrumpCo? Mashed potatoes remashed against the glass of family portraits that were hung in a tidier time? I wonder how many people gave thanks… Continue reading
We needed to get to the train station and the sign on the Marrakech bank said 46° C. My boiling brain calculated for a second…115°F? Yup. No, no way my ex-girlfriend and I… Continue reading
