Category: Travels
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The No-Name Motel
[The motel with no name] Most of the time I can erect a fence to contain the images and imaginations from escaping my brain. Sometimes a little white picket fence with pink daisies in purple pots are enough to hold back the most innocent and decent imagery that my mind can create. Then, there are…
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Are You Overly Concerned About Dinoflagellates?
[Bioluminescence at night on a beach. Photo source: Google search.] You find yourself sitting up in bed at 2:30 am and thinking of dinoflagellates, the Valium hasn’t kicked in, your partner is in REM sleep and softly mumbling Bono Bono and your supply of Sleepy Time Tea has been deleted…you’re not alone. I, too, suffer…
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Late Night Thoughts on Thumb Twiddling
[Mariam in the act of thumb twiddling. Photo credit: Me] Twiddle. (v) To wait idly because one cannot take action. Not that many weeks ago I found myself behind the wheel of an Avis Rent Car. I had set the cruise control at 71 mph. We were heading north out of Albany, coming home from…
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My Friend Tim
[Left to right: Jo, Anna, Tim at the White Lion Inn on our last night in Dorset] It was August of 1984. I was about to begin a year in Dorset, England, when I first met Tim Ovenden. He was destined to be my house-mate in Wimborne Minster (actually a burb of Wimborne, Colehill). He…
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The Statue
This post is not about anything that happened on our most recent trip. This goes back to a time, over a year ago when we were having dinner at an outdoor restaurant In Brussels. At the end of the final course, I excused myself to go to the loo. On the way to the back…
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Journey’s End
Pick a window…any window. There’s nothing to see, only white. We entered a fog bank. Fog as thick as whole milk. We’re sailing due west, nearing Long Island. Visibility from our deck window is about ten feet. The end of our three-month journey is about to end. Nothing left, except to get through customs and…
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In The Land of Pooh, The Badger, King Arthur and Beyond: The Excursionist XIII Finale
magic (n) A mysterious quality of enchantment. England is a land of mystery, magic and myth. It is a land of legends of kings and villains of all sorts. Consider this quote: As one wakened suddenly from a beautiful dream, who struggles to recall it, and can recapture nothing but a dim sense of…
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The Glastonbury Tor Blog: The Excursionist XII
[The Tor at the start of our climb. St. Michael’s Tower crowns the hill] Glastonbury is an ancient town nestled on a broad plain near the Mendip Hills in the county of Somerset. It comes with a reputation, like that guy that sat in the last seat of your school bus. You can shop for…
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The Circus: The Excursionist XI
Really great adventures always start with a sign taped to a window of a shop or to a wooden pole along the curb. At least that’s how I found out about the circus. We’re not talking about Barnum & Bailey here or even the Big Apple Circus that visits Lincoln Center every winter. No, this…
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Words From A Footpath: The Excursionist X
[Older footpath signs] It must be my age. It could be my imagination. It certainly is something I don’t fully understand. But, the truth is I think that the English Public Footpaths sometimes call my name. There is a legend among the Northwest Indigenous People that when you hear an owl call your name…you will…
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