Riding home on the bus was always a sandy, sticky affair as there were no showers at the beach. With a film of salt all over us, and sand stuck in places we didn’t even know we had, we sat on those hot vinyl seats in discomfort for the ride back to school. Our bus driver was kind enough to let us listen to music, and it was on one such morning that I heard it. In a previous post, I talked about the awful time I had in Australian schools, with bullies and racists and just horr
The French Quarter I’ve gone free diving with a purple octopus in Tahiti. I’ve explored uninhabited islands in Australia and Thailand. I’ve had my hair braided and beaded by beach vendors in Indonesia. I’ve walked through the jungle for breakfast in Malaysia and welcomed Santa as he arrived barefoot, with an umbrella, in an outrigger canoe in French Polynesia. I’ve done a lot of things and seen a lot of places, but none of them have ever moved me so profoundly as New Orleans.
There’s really nothing quite like standing on the side of the Interstate just outside of San Jose, California, on your birthday, next to your unfortunately gold Ford Taurus that just sacrificed it’s transmission to the asphalt gods, 1500 kilometres from home and near penniless, to make you wonder if maybe curses do indeed exist. *inhale* The Winchester Mystery House was supposed to be my destination twice, on two separate road trips to California. If you haven’t heard of the
If there’s one thing I cannot stand, it’s people telling me how dangerous Mexico is. Especially people who’ve either never been there, or only visited in the reclusive, fenced off all-inclusives that have nothing to do with real Mexico. Every time I head back to visit the town I lived in for two straight years, the town my brother lives in, the town my friends live in, I get earfuls from people telling me how dangerous it is and how I’m brave for going and taking my kids. Let
Last Wednesday, I peeled myself off the beach in Playa Del Carmen to trudge to the corner store for some cold beers and a couple of Fantas for the kids. On the way back, as I crossed La Quinta (the main tourist strip in Playa), a Catholic procession made it’s way down the road. I stopped and waited, the scent of incense swirling around in the soupy air, and short Mexican women in white dresses and neon embroidery carried idols of saints next to robed altar boys and priests an
I dunno if you’ve ever been to Thailand, but there are two things you ought to know about it. 1. They serve Thai rum in buckets. We’re talking regular sized buckets that you could dip your mop in. and 2. Thai rum, or Sang Som, happens to give you a very different hangover than other types of booze. It’s characterized by extreme goofiness and an inability to really move at all. It is often referred to as a “Hang Som”. I bring these points up because on Boxing Day 2006, I found