There are some experiences that are so deeply myself that I don’t want to share them. Not even with myself in a private journal. Some experiences are so in the body that to abstract them into language and symbols just isn’t possible. I almost feel that way about the total eclipse. So many people asked … Continue reading
Tag Archives: traveling Americans
Reblog Your Dreams
Slogans on tee shirts I’ve seen while in Portugal: Inspired By Myself Young and in Love Reblog Your Dreams You’re an Ocean of Charm BAE: Bacon And Eggs My Plié Is Better Than Yours Mango Addict Continue reading
In Defense of Staying Put
I am on my last week of a three-week stay in Estoril, Portugal, a little seaside neighborhood north of Lisbon. People have been asking me what I am doing here, what have I seen. And my honest answer is “not much.” This trip wasn’t about cramming in the sights of Portugal (though there is a … Continue reading
Unsee
One of the things that struck me last year about the beach town of Estoril/Cascais in Portugal is that everyone goes to the beach. I mean EVERYONE. There are naked babies and topless grandmas. Bodies (or “houses” as my friends who live here call them) of all shapes, sizes, colors, ages, and stages of undress. … Continue reading
A Sudden Realization
I am tired. June proved to be a month too full of travel (I never thought I’d say that) with four trips and two of those unplanned. But now I am in Portugal on a planned trip that has me for two and a half weeks just hanging out at my friends’ house. I’ve removed … Continue reading
Reverse Sunset
The sun had already set when my plane took off in Philadelphia. A gold-grey haze that made the clouds look like peeling varnish on a mirror that is reflecting candle flame. But as we flew north and very slightly east, a glowing red began to bubble over the dark clouds. We were flying not into … Continue reading
Janus Stories
Like Janus, New Orleans has at least two faces and a multitude of stories that chorus in your ears during the afternoon thunderstorms. They wake you up at night with their rush and pound; they build throughout the day with humidity and pressure, until you are begging the city to spill its tales. I lived … Continue reading
