Travelling the World
Act 3: In which a middle-aged lady packs a carry-on, kisses her grown-up sons, and trades in the practice of law for a nomadic life of adventure and inspiration.
Last week we spent a chilly, rainy day at Cajas National Park and warmed up afterwards with mulled wine at a local inn. And at last I found the perfect Panama hat.
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It's been a frustrating morning. My writing has stalled, and my brain feels like mush, and the hall mirror said I look fat.
Carnaval is a few days of fun and celebration before the Catholic season of Lent.
Of all the times to sell your home and set off on a life of perpetual world travel, during a global pandemic doesn't seem ideal.
Did you ever play a game in your mind, maybe as a child, where you imagined being on a deserted island?
When you travel full-time, running into someone you know, even slightly, is heartwarming because it's so rare.
Names can be magic. Your first crush. Your soulmate. Overheard in a crowd or resurrected in a dream, their names pluck strings of memory, waking us to forgotten love and heartbreak.
One of my most prized possessions is a cracked plastic snow globe. Inside a Dalmatian puppy holds a Valentine which reads "I'm Yours".
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