Most of my friends travel to relax. Occasionally, I do, too. But I also go places to be uncomfortable—and challenged, and maybe even changed. The seven days I spent in Havana in late January checked all those boxes.
This week I will make history. I will do so by voting in America’s 60th consecutive federal election, a tradition first begun in 1789.
It took a trip to Havana and a visit to the Galleria Continua there, where I saw the “El Buen Pastor—The Good Shepherd” for me to decide to go ahead and hit the “publish” button.
Much as I wish that unseasonal heat was an anomaly, my recent trip to the Norwegian Arctic makes me think it’s probably the new normal for fall in the wine country.
Imagine my surprise when I find out Mom’s booked me and my sister, along with herself, on a 12-day expedition cruise through the polar seas of the Norwegian Arctic.
In the shade of an oak tree, glimpsed over a nominal fence, stands a lowly metal pole with a dirty yellow ball tethered from the top.
Age is relative. It’s subjective, too. I know this because I just turned 58 and everyone has an opinion about it.
I paid $230 and driven two hours and nine minutes for this exercise in social anxiety, I remind myself, as I step out from underneath the tree. It would be fiscally irresponsible to turn around now.
Maybe you’ve heard of Cristiana? She is the 68-year-old daughter of the former Nicaraguan president, Violeta Barrios de Chamorro.
If the Roman Emperor Hadrian were alive today, I wonder what he might have to say about the tumbled down remains of the 2nd century border wall.
I know this is a blog about walls— But here’s a post about walking, instead. There’s a connection between the two. I promise.
Stretched out before me is more rain gear than I ever imagined owning. Add to that socks and thermal layers of all manner—and blister protection.
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