Gifts in Granada
That last post about Tarifa came from an old journal, a paragraph not relevant enough to include in my book, but I enjoyed giving it a little life somewhere else. Another such moment… Continue reading
Tag Archive: traveling
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Alone together in Tarifa
If Spain were a big, worrisomely lumpy breast, then Tarifa would be the downward-sagging nipple, poking across the Strait of Gibraltar at my goal for the day: Morocco. But Tarifa was also the… Continue reading
Ample? Fat? Or something more creative?
“What about this one? How does it look?” His girlfriend considered for a moment, head tilted to the side and lips pursed just a little. “I like it, the color is good on… Continue reading
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
Getting gas in Venezuela
It’s a routine errand, expensive, kinda smelly, and utterly unexciting, for millions (billions?) of people. Filling up the tank. Getting gas. Burning dinosaur bones. (And you were worried this was a chronological consequence… Continue reading
Food porn, Venezuela style
The pupusas of El Salvador clearly made an impression on me, but Venezuela was ready with a rebound relationship. The arepa is the traditional and quintessential food item of Venezuela and Colombia, dating… Continue reading
I fear for Israel; or, Jerusalem wanted to hate me.
“I need a little more time to know for sure how I feel about Jerusalem…” was all I could say after I left there last year. Months went by, and I never came back… Continue reading
A battalion of sauces, lots of boobies, and sheer normalcy on the streets of Caracas.
(In deference to the blogosphere’s reverence for brevity, I split this post in two; the first half is here) After clearing customs, hearing of youthful harlots, and being warned that the water… Continue reading
Arriving in Caracas, Part 1 of 2; or, my niece’s birthday party was a porno scene
The plane landed at Caracas’ Simon Bolivar International Airport with a stronger bump than most, and taxied past a row of unfamiliar logos on modest fuselages. Between the recent unrest, and, more importantly,… Continue reading
Censorship; or, Celebrity ____ likes to smoke ____!
Anthony Bourdain was in Tangier. That’s an interesting city, and from what I’ve seen of him, an interesting man, so I put my book away to listen. But in this boarding area in… Continue reading
