In the valleys of southwest Iceland, the Great Geysir is part of a system of hot springs that, in addition to spewing boiling water some seventy meters into the air, have lent their name to the English word for ‘geyser.’ The word ‘geysir’ itself comes from the Old Norse verb geysa, to “gush” or “rush … Read More
travel writing
The journey of a pearl.
“Neal rattled on like this; he was overjoyed and exuberant. He and I suddenly saw the whole country like an oyster for us to open; and the pearl was there, the pearl was there.” — Jack Kerouac, On the Road My first two weeks on a black pearl farm in French Polynesia felt like starting … Read More
Get up and go.
My mother left this morning for St. Louis. She’ll be gone for just three days, attending a conference, meeting with editors, and pitching projects and proposals. But as she packed last night, folded two changes of clothes neatly into the space of her carry-on suitcase, and filled miniature bottles with two showers’ worth of shampoo … Read More
Puns, mugs, and the open road.
Hometown, NZ. It’s a tall order for any small town to attempt to fill, but along an unassuming road just over a hundred kilometers north of Wellington, a little place called Foxton, population 2,700, dares to make such a claim. Maybe it was an instinctive desire to prove it wrong or just the obscurity of … Read More
Sunset in the suburbs.
Pearl harvesting in French Polynesia was perhaps not the wisest way to spend my last month before returning to American soil for the first time in over a year. It was, however, a risk I was willing to take and you would think it set me up for a disastrous transition back to the land of … Read More
Macanese mystique.
I can’t help but look for them all over the city; strings of red Chinese lanterns above the Macanese streets. They hang in rows of graceful symmetry, so beautifully oblivious and suspended above the din below; above vendors handing out samples of beef jerky or almond cookies from wide, woven trays; above the black and … Read More