On How I Am A Weak And Spoiled Traveller
I like bus rides. I like sweating in a cramped seat next to a fat local guy with too much aftershave. I like trying to sleep on a long-haul night bus while a class of teenage girls giggles and shrieks with delerium. I even like sitting on the fold out seat with no backrest for …
Read More →A Costa Rican Hippy
It was 1965 when a seventeen-year-old Costa Rican boy found himself in New York city for the first time. Not knowing what to do or where to go, he wandered through town, his footsteps coming to a halt before a dance club where pretty girls writhed and gyrated in large windows facing out towards the …
Read More →
Slow Travel
My first big trip overseas was two months in Thailand. Somewhere in the middle of that, a series of scheduling issues, including a friend from China coming to meet up with me, led to my spending ten days in Bangkok. Several people have told me I’m crazy for spending that much time in such a …
Read More →Doppelgängers and Las Drogas
I met Marc at the bus station in Liberia. He was of similar height and build, but with a broken noise, and lacking the longer hair that I’ve only recently adopted. We were both looking for the same Tamarindo bus, and along the way I learned that he was fresh off the plane in Costa …
Read More →
My Pack: Costa Rica
As has become a bit of a custom, and because people have been asking, here’s what I’m packing while in Costa Rica for 2 and a half months. Bag one is an Arc’teryx Cierzo 35 L daypack. The bag is fairly light, expands to hold a fair bit, and still compresses down when only partially …
Read More →Clean Lines
7:45. Wake up. Pull on board shorts. Sunscreen on face. Pull damp rashguard over my head and tie it into the laces of my shorts. Board under arm. Lock room. Walk barefoot down rocky driveway, across the road, and through Witch’s Rock Surf Camp. I scan the beach and it’s quiet. The sun has been …
Read More →A Comedy of Errors
It has been more than two months since my return from Costa Rica and I am just now continuing to write about the experience. You might be asking yourself why this is, and with any luck some answers lie in the words to follow. “Son of a bitch!” I scream into the sky as dusk …
Read More →Tamarindo
The pavement is already warm as I walk barefoot down the road from my cabina to the water. Acrid smoke from a small brush and garbage fire floods my nostrils when I turn off onto the small path that leads down to the beach but is quickly blown away by the constant offshore breeze that …
Read More →
