Traveling Stories Magazine

Windswept, or What is Watt?

If you like wearing woolen hats, even at the end of May, then the windswept island of Borkum is just the place to be. This North Sea island – the largest and westernmost of the East Frisian islands - is a favorite vacation spot of my friends the Germans, and I will describe the island in the following, leaving it to you, dear reader, to puzzle out why.

The island is known for its ‘Reizklima,’ defined online as ‘bracing climate.’ Many elderly people with various ailments travel there for the brisk air and alleged health benefits; I can only attest to the fact that upon arrival, I was bone tired and could easily have slept the entire three days of my stay. Sleep is always beneficial to those who are sick and/or tired, but I have to say that I infinitely preferred swinging in the hammock at Toubab Dialaw in Senegal, soaking in the sunshine and drawing in deep lungfuls of tangy salt air. Strangely, the North Sea doesn’t smell properly of sea, and my Portuguese colleague agreed – another deficit, as far as this Coney Island girl was concerned.

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Roraima

Location: Roraima, Gran Sabana, Venezuela

By: Alicia Harney

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Talking to Strangers: A Whirlwind Day in Havana

By: William Gowsell

A week in the sun relaxing in the beautiful March weather of Varadero, Cuba is an ideal vacation for anyone. In the midst of this tranquility, who in their right mind would get into a strangers car? This was an adventure my wife, two friends and I jumped at when offered a private tour of Havana.

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Remembering the King of Pop and Peru

By Carlie Sorosiak

“Michael Jackson está muerto! Ay dios mío!” the swarthy, deep-voiced announcer for the local gringo radio station cried (yes, literally cried). Then, after a moment of silence penetrated only by soft whimpers, he sighed what I translated to be “this one’s for you, Señor Jackson” and began to play “Beat It.” I imagined a middle-aged Peruvian man stroking a sequin glove, sobbing over a radio switchboard in Lima.

The news spread rapidly across our bottle green turismo bus as it rocketed past fields of smoldering sugar cane. A few giggles escaped from the back. Someone from our dig group cajolingly wondered, how did he die? Another botched plastic surgery, perhaps? In America, we commonly made fun of Michael Jackson. I don’t think any of us gringos realized that June 25, 2009 – the day the King of Pop died – would become a day of mourning in Huanchaco, a small fishing village and surfer hot spot on the north coast of Peru.

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