Poor me, but then I thought, wait...I've swum in some lovely places.
Let's narrow them down to 3 in no particular order.
Ginnie Springs, High Springs, Northern Florida
If northern Florida wasn't interesting enough in its own time travel way, these springs are perfect. It's a surreal place to swim among the Spanish moss while the alligators patrol out in the warmer river that the springs flow into (the big toothy grins don't like the cooler water).
Bir Ali, Yemen
Yemen never makes it onto the glossy Caribbean style travel brochures, but the emerald green of the Arabian Sea is a mighty match for hurricane alley. Just outside the town of Bir Ali you can camp on a deserted white sandy beach that seems to extend all the way down to Aden. Behind you the sands of the beach meet and mingle with those of the desert on the vol…
Last night's Minaret exhibit was not only a chance to share some photos that I've taken on my travels but an opportunity to retrieve and relive some dusty memories that had been lying forgotten in my 1.0 memory chip mind.
During the evening, a few astute visitors were quick to notice an early Soviet-era statue that features prominently in one of the photographs, thus refreshing my memory in regards to one of my favourite emblems in Baku, Azerbaijan.
While living in the city, my wife and I lived just off Nizami square/Metro stop in the infamous 'Beysh Barmak'. Baku's first 5-story building (thus the name) that was stodgily yet sturdily built during the years of Russian rule. The window panes hadn't been changed since the 5 year plans, allowing the winter wind free access to the flat, but it was a handy address that every taxi driver knew...especially given the fact that I speak no Azeri or Russian, no matter how much vodka I drank.
Writing in the local paper. Local issues with a global take. I never translate literally and the editor trims at will to make it fit. Here's my version, then theirs.
My wife and I
spent some time living on the banks of the Mekong in a country that is known to
most Spaniards as Roldan’s hideout. Back then, the first traffic lights were
just going up and life moved at a pace that was reflected in that great river.
I worked at a University, helping young Laos prepare to study abroad and also provided
training for public school teachers. The Lao are some of the
friendliest people on earth and my wife and I quickly built up a solid network of friends,
both local and foreign. Our social life was either spent by the river drinking
beer with icecubes, an acquired taste in the heat and humidity and absence of
refrigeration, or having improvised barbeques under the mango trees of our
courtyard. In a context as foreign as south-east Asia, you are bound to come
across cultural differences and …