“Often we pass beside happiness without seeing it, without looking at it, or even if we have seen and looked at it, without recognizing it.”…
Ships stop in Palermo. That’s why horse-drawn carriages still roam the streets. The morning we got off the ferry, dozens of one-horse buggies–called mateos–were lined up…
After this it was sheer travel along the North African littoral, and the Mediterranean, and Sicily, and Greece. This: Tangier. This: the death of Don…
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…
Chris is holed up in our hotel room, his laptop open, his left foot elevated above his heart. We have been catering in. The Galician…
“Nobody goes to bed in Madrid until they have killed the night.” Ernest Hemingway, Death in the Afternoon Travel-weary from an intercontinental ferry across the…
We met up with Celene and Lydia, third-year college students (from Bennington College and College of Charleston, respectively) in Meknes, Morocco where they are studying…
Our flight’s initial descent catches me off guard. My recent trips to India took nearly twice as long in air and, as the attendants make…
The Iberia flight from Chicago to Madrid is nothing if not a clear line of demarcation from the United States: A substantial airline meal, with…
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