Costa Rica: Magic of the Million Hole road
Photo:Flickr/
It was certainly one of those moments of glory, when you have to pinch yourself to realize that what you just saw was not a dream. It was not.
Sick to Death of Bali
Photo:Flickr/Tabea-Marie
The air was dense and sweltering as I lay on a sweat-soaked sheet gazing forlornly through the mesh of a mosquito net, attempting to glimpse what lay beyond, just outside the door of my rented bungalow in Bali’s art capital, Ubud. Delirious, writhing in pain, and folded neatly into a fetal position, I was furious that such beauty could lie only a few feet away.
Fishing at Starbucks
Photo by author
Sitting at Starbucks on a Muscat beach and watching the fishermen getting their nets ready on the beach just across the street, sums up the duality that is Oman. Listening to light jazz, sipping one of the two-dozen choices of coffee blends, whilst 50m from me the air is filled with the excited screams of the ever-hopeful seagulls and a team of fishermen running seemingly aimlessly but somehow coordinated and accomplishing the magic trick of disentangling, then spreading out a fine at least a 100m long green net, dotted in intervals with cork floats.
Confessions of a Mangrove Hugger
Photo by author
Over the winter break, I decided to take a visit to the Sine-Saloum region, several hours south of Dakar, just north of the Gambian border. (The country of Senegal is bisected in a bizarre way by the little independent nation of Gambia, which has its own capital, Banjul. The tiniest country on the African mainland, The Gambia (which only became independent from Britain in 1965) is almost completely surrounded by Senegal. The two countries formed a short-lived confederation during the 80’s and the region is still occasionally referred to as Senegambia (you know, just think ‘Brangelina’).
Immanjarok and the Shaman’s Ghost
Photo of author pulling sled on the frozen surface of the Arctic Ocean
North Alaska in February; a profoundly disinterested sky dashed with sharp shards of still light. An auroral streak-milkwhite and arching from horizon to horizon-is just fading and now gone. Released from a spell, I walk again. Behind me the lowest cuticle of the eastern horizon brims a dull orange.
Pillow Talk
Photo:Flickr/GMacorig
I used to take my pillow with me everywhere I had at least an overnight stay. It has been a requirement ever since I slipped a disc in my neck, whilst being a tad over-zealous with my weight-training, over 20 years ago. Then – I’m sure, as a re-action to my obsession with filling-in hotel ‘any improvements you would like to see’ cards - things changed. Now there are choices of pillow, and if you are very lucky, you will have a ‘pillow menu’. Oh joy!
Travel Picks of the Week - 02/15/08
Photo:Flickr/Elliot23
Travel brings wisdom and knowledge. Independent travelers were encouraged to share aesthetic and intellectual pleasures of discovery in the narrative contest held by Transitions Abroad. The winning entry was the heart-warming story, Education from the Streets of Giza.
The Ugly Girl
Photo by author
Armando had married a few days ago, but that didn’t stop him from accompanying me to celebrate Carnaval in Salvador. He’d judge the candidates as we walked down the streets of the Pelourinho: “Look at that one. She’s hot.” But I expected an abundance of beautiful people. After all, this is Brazil we’re talking about.
A Boat Called Rambo or You Can Get There From Here, But You Don’t Want To Go
There are several ways to get to Phom Penh from Siem Reap in Cambodia. You can travel by plane which is fast but expensive; or you can go by bus which is very cheap but requires about 18 hours. There is also a steamer that takes you across the Tonle Sap lake and then down the Tonle Sap river. This is pricey but reputed to be a leisurely paced trip of three days in a luxury wooden riverboat. Then there is the express ferry which makes the trip in five hours for only $25.
Journals of Constant Waterman
Photo:Flickr/Iheartj
Point Judith, Rhode Island – 14 September
This morning the harbor spreads calmly. Dirty clouds begin to descend; the next two days will prove wet. The fellow in the small O’Day sloop to whom I spoke last week touted the breakfast served at Snug Harbor Marine. The mile and a half each way seems a bit of a swim. I tumble into my Whitehall pulling boat. I take my empty water jug, a towel, clean clothes and, to propitiate the dumpster god, my favorite bag of trash.
