The dust and heat of the dessert were heavy, oppressive as we sped south in the car. I was immobilized in the passenger seat and Remi, more highly functional in the hot weather, was pretty much solo-piloting our southward road trip. Passing the border in Tijuana, things didn’t cool off much as we headed south down Baja California. The relentless movement of it: what were we running from? Or running to?
Things are in season, fresh, local. The vendors themselves are almost as colorful as their veggies, young and old. People from all over the place live in the city, and the accents you’ll hear are, like in much of the city, diverse.
I wanted to put down my bags (at least for a little bit), stop bopping around and feel at home, to create a space for myself. I searched and searched: for months it felt like I would never find what I was looking for!
From the ground, it’s easy enough to miss it entirely at first, but eventually the skyscrapers will draw your gaze upwards, and you’ll inevitably notice the sprigs of greenery sprouting above you in the midst of the concrete jungle. This is Highline, a 3-mile long park that’s been strung up so cleverly from the heights of the city.
If you head south from Ticonderoga towards the middle of Lake George, just off the shore there are a string of islands that are part of a public state park. In many parts of the lake the water is deeper than you can see, but here it becomes shallow and you can swim between the islands in the sheltered water.
Tucked in between a little pond and some sprawling farm fields is Wood’s Market Garden, just south of Brandon, VT, on Route 7. This is one of my favorite places for fresh food, especially in the summer months when everything is drenched in sunshine and tomatoes taste like the way nature meant for sweets to be.
Just get started, set off and even though you can only see as far as the head beams illuminate in front of you, if you keep going long enough you can eventually make it all the way across the country. Or even to Mexico. I prefer a route with a bit more mystery, leaving a little something up to chance and just the beautiful unfolding of life as it happens.
Slowing down is beautiful because it allows you to get on intimate terms with a place. You can make lasting friendships, really learn the language, feel the textures and rhythms of a place, living so fully even as you’re on the road.
Flor was from all places, but most importantly from the duality of the earth and the sky. As she grew, the wind took her into his tutelage, gently and then ferociously he would blow her throughout the world that was her home.
There is something in the water, the way it touches us all. I'm floating somewhere about 150 feet offshore from the white sandy beaches of this dry, desert island just fifteen miles off the coast of Venezuela.
It's been years now that I've been dreaming up a trip to Rome, a city that I've spent a long time thinking about, yet knew relatively little about. It is a city of contrasts, between its monuments and its little quirks that go unnoticed by the masses, but these details make up a good deal of its charm.
They come in all shapes and sizes, for everyone dreams in their own way. It’s these little visions that crop up, at times unexpected, shedding the light of some promising potential. It’s a half-drawn sketch, inviting us to pick up the pencil or take the first step.
Norte Dame de la Garde is perhaps the highest point of all Marseille, with a 360 degree view of the whole city; it dwarfs even the tallest of the city's few skyscrapers. The sea is to the south and the mountains rise up on all sides, so that the city sits in a little basin, its urban sprawl halted at the base of these rising mountains.
We surge away from the shore; the land disappears behind us and we lose sight of our trusty Subaru Forester that we’re abandoning for we don’t know how long. There’s a sort of shift, a crossing ofsome imaginary line as we enter this realm that is apart: a watery world where the sea meets a series of inland rivers, salty sea water mixing with fresh river water.
If you follow the Corniche as far as you can along the sea, you come to a place called Les Goodes. It is here that the road ends east of Marseille, in this little fishing village on the sea where the city cedes to the natural landscape. Mountains rise up behind the village and there are many paths for hiking.
While traveling, I am constantly learning new things at the same time old lessons are being reinforced. One such lesson I’ve been thinking about recently is that less is often more. The concept is simple enough. However, living in one place, with a stable home place stuff somehow seems to pile up.