Kota Bharu, the capital of Malaysia’s Kelantan province, is a quiet city. There seem to be wider, more plentiful streets than the people need. Few…
I am no artist, but I travel in the company of an artist and am therefore qualified to speak on all manner of things esthetic,…
The city of Ayutthaya is on the map for its history, for its ruins, for the intimacy of its past. Our hostess calls it “a…
Our train shudders to a stop in Patna Junction, the nervous hiss of air breaks reflecting my mood. Have I erred in planning an adventuresome…
India is bursting with visual stimulus. Bright ads on every building: red ads for Coke, yellow and blue ads for cement, a confusing collage of…
My father was an art critic. (He was a man of many talents. Ranching was his vocation and joy, but hardly his sole interest or…
Arriving in arid Cappadocia, fresh off a forty-five minute boat ride from Greece and a sixteen-hour bus ride from the Turkish Mediterranean, the change in…
I first really noticed it on the prow of our ferry, the Kalliste, during our dawn docking in the Corsican port of Propriano. The sea…
Pinnacles of experience don’t find words easily. But I will try. I must try. Let’s go together. Enter the cave. There are three doors, one…
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