Blog and Gallery

  • Granada; We’re Really Not In Kansas Anymore (7/12)

    At some point in the bus ride to Granada, I passed the bounds of reality and entered into a new plane of existence. I’m not sure which mountain or what alien landscape finally pushed me to this realization, but by the time the we were about 20 minutes out, I felt the call of this

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  • I feel like a pack mule and I am ok with that (7/7)

    On every corner, nestled in every building there are neat little shops selling all kinds of wares. I feel the need to walk into each of them and see what they might be selling, whether it’s the 15th farmacia I’ve visited for all the random things I realize I have forgotten, to little bodegas selling

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  • My years of experience traveling taught me to come prepared for unusual situations. This proved very useful as I finally broke down and took the antibiotics I stowed away in case of an emergency. Only after I started to feel immensely better did I find farmacias that contained medicines I was even remotely familiar with.

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  • Well it happened. The dreaded airport cooties got to me. Day 6 of my trip and my head is pounding and my throat hurts. The pace of this trip so far has been the equivalent to bootcamp in the southern summer. I already have bad knees and a bum back, add to that being sick

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  • Default me is a chaotic whirlwind of spur of the moment decisions and haphazard planning. Yet travel mode me is meticulous to the point of being neurotic. I have printed lists with checkmarks, detailed preparations on my whiteboard, enough itinerary pages to make a small book printed out. Everything is checked and double checked. Do

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