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.
Roraima
Location: Roraima, Gran Sabana, Venezuela
By: Alicia Harney
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.
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.
Venice: The Dream and The Reality
My Big Fat Bulgarian Orgy
If you liked that movie, you’ll hate this article, because this is for guys and the only wedding here is the marriage of food, wine, music, and a voracious hottie. However, if the way to your heart is thru your stomach, plus a nearby appendage, keep reading.
I arrived in the capital Sofia with twenty-four hours to relax. Took a taxi to the Bulgarska Zavera Restaurant on Tsar Samuil Street. The old masonry and walnut wood interior was covered with rifles and military paintings from the 1853 Crimean War. My table sat beneath a tea-urn once used by the Russian General Gurko, who liberated the country from the Ottoman Empire. (Wait a minute. Didn´t Luke Skywalker free everyone from the Ottoman Empire when he dropped the bomb into that thingy? Maybe I´m confused.)
Two Worlds in the Center of the Earth
Their trip to Ecuador had originally been postponed. Danielle and Nick Bilton were ready to embark on a trip to Ecuador, her country of origin, for 10 days. However, she neglected to renew her passport. They missed their flight and went about a month later. Nonetheless, this trip was over-due.
It was Nick’s first trip to South America and he anxiously anticipated meeting her extended family, many of whom she had not seen in about ten years. Yes, Danielle had not set foot on Ecuadorian soil in a decade, She wanted to travel to Ecuador with her husband, in the hopes of connecting with her family and her Ecuadorian roots. During the course of their vacation, they visited various places throughout Ecuador, and spent with her family. Nick absorbed some culture shock because of the language barrier and everything else in between. It was truly a unique experience for him. They purposely stayed at the Marriot Hotel in the capital city of Quito to gain a real kind of tourist experience. “It’s been a decade since I’ve been here and, yes a lot has changed, but I still can’t see myself living here” Danielle said. She was born and raised in the United States. Danielle shares a strong affinity with her country, but could not imagine making a life for herself there. Danielle is an artist and has an overwhelming appreciation for the country’s natural beauty and exoticism. “I know this sounds crazy, but when I think of Ecuador I think of mi abuelitos (my grandparents) and all that they sacrificed. I think of the mountains that stand tall and proud; mis abuelitos (my grandparents) are those mountains.” She feels a sense of pride for Ecuador and for being Ecuadorian. The couple found their excursion through the rainforest near the Amazon Basin, an unforgettable experience. They spent most of their trip exploring the terrain and exotic places of Ecuador. Nick, being a techy and media aficionado, found it extraordinarily interesting that he could pick up an Internet signal as they trekked through the rainforest. During their journey, they encountered wildlife and observed various species of monkeys in their habitat. The Biltons came across this delicious fruit, granadilla, known to the Ecuadorians as their passion fruit.
Friendly France?
Story location: Paris, France
En route to Paris
Usually the Mitfahrgelegenheit (MfG) in Germany is a service offered by students helping one another get inexpensively from place A to place B. For the price of gas, you can get almost anywhere while avoiding the chronically late and overcrowded German rail system. So I was surprised to discover when I left Dortmund for Paris over our Easter break that the MfG is a business, a clandestine system of vans transporting people huge distances for a mere $35 euros. On my own particular journey, there was a mixed bag of people from Tunisia, the Congo, etc. I sat next to a fascinating Algerian man who had worked in the pharma industry, and he entertained me en route with hair-raising stories of how the reps use all kinds of unsavory tactics to get doctors to eat out of the palms of their hands. Everyone caves in the end, he assured me, leading me to vow that I would take nothing stronger than St Joseph’s children’s aspirin in future. This very successful retired salesman with houses in three countries had decided to take the gypsy van in order to save extravagant parking fees at Charles de Gaulle airport. The six-hour drive flew by, and the Congolese lady dropped me off at a convenient train station to continue on to Juvisy, which is where the houseboat on which I would spend the next five days was docked.
For those who have not had the experience, the play of sunlight on the water is reflected on the ceiling and on the walls of a houseboat. You wake up in the morning to bright sunshine streaming in through the portholes and feel movement when large boats pass, but for the most part, the boat is as roomy and comfortable as a regular apartment, and certainly infinitely more spacious than some NYC apartments I have visited, with the added bonus of occasional ducks outside your window. Perhaps it was the hypnotic play of light that kept me boat-bound during most of my stay in France, I do not know.
