I travel on a very limited budget. The down side of that is I seldom discover the art of fine dining in the places I visit. The good side is that I often end up sitting in a park, eating street fare, amongst the local color. Or in some hole-in-the-wall
I’ve always hated history. Ever since the 7th grade at Sidney Phillips, when my social studies teacher made us memorize an exhaustive list of wars and Louises with Roman numerals, I tuned out. I know history is important, but its not my thing. I’m much more curious about events and
Not good. Four days in this intriguing city is way short of what it’ll take to really see it. We had just gotten settled in our apartment. With the front windows open, we were enjoying the breeze and watching the sun set over the Sea of Marmara when we heard
I’m a nervous wreck, that’s all there is to it. A sweet neighbor who knows what’s about to happen, insisted she feed me a quick lunch. I haven’t eaten all day. What’s happening this afternoon was never a dream. I just couldn’t imagine it ever happening. About this time three years ago
Am just back in Panamá City after two days on Isla Colón, the largest of the nine islands in the Bocas del Toro archipelago. These islands are located on the extreme western side of Panamá, only 40 kilometers, or about 24 miles, from Costa Rica. The first words out of my
I am so conflicted each evening when I sit down to write. There’s so much I want to share with you, so many details I want to remember for my own memories. I want to record each conversation – the one with the handsome young South African in Casco Viejo
When my father announced to my mother that he’d received orders for El Salvador, her first question was, “Where in the world is THAT?” Just picture this: It’s 1958 and you’ve just been told you have to pack up your 2-year-old and 5-year-old daughters and take them to some God-forsaken
I love art and Casco Viejo is certainly filled with lots of it. The whimsical little fish you see on the header were made by Kuna ladies, members of an indigenous community on San Blas Islands which are off the coast of Panama City. They are also the people who
“Con usted…no queremos mujeres feas.” Between Michele and I we had just enough knowledge of the Spanish language to figure out what the sign said. “Nobody likes ugly women.” That’s what started our magical mystery tour of the day. It began as my sister, Michele, and I started out by heading
Tired as an old goat, I stumbled into the Atlanta airport this morning at 6am. I have a bad habit of obsessing the night before a trip. I get my packing done, finish work and household chores. Then I get this wild notion that I must change the oil in
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