Paddling, paddling like crazy in the foamy water and big waves off the shore of an African surf and fishing village called Taghazout in Morocco. There’s no ATM in town, so you have to bike to the next village over to get cash. It’s just that kind of place. Despite…

I am doing the tightrope walk of organizing a date while sitting here under a plant that’s sprouting from a stone patio, with a view of the mild, mid-afternoon bustle of a middle-classish, family-friendly neighborhood, my back to the door of a $7 per night Airbnb in Colombia.

Enjoy this story, and for stories you won’t find online, grab my book here. Here I am, sitting on the stone tiles of a gated front porch on a block in Colombia, waiting on hold for a hospital back in the USA to send me written proof of a negative…

*** Enjoy this story, and for stories you won’t find online, grab my book here. A harsh voice amped up through the funnel of an electrical bullhorn wakes me up. Hard Spanish syllables rattle the windows of every apartment on the block. The fog of the night clears. Oh, yeah. …

Enjoy this story, and for stories you won’t find online, grab my book here. *** Yeah, some year in my early twenties when I couldn’t scrape together airfare to fly home for Turkey Day, I had been hanging out with a crew of maybe four people, evenly split between guys…

Enjoy this story, and for stories you won’t find online, grab my book here. *** Rain splattering the windows of the airplane. Dim purple and orange light shining through the little round window. Going just by the big flat tarmac alone, Medellin, Colombia, looks like Miami, Florida. I’m watching the…

Enjoy this story, and for stories you won’t find online, grab my book here. *** Rain splattering the windows of the airplane. Dim purple and orange light shining through the little round window. Going just by the big flat tarmac alone, Medellin, Colombia, looks like Miami, Florida. I’m watching the…

Enjoy this story, and for stories you won’t find online, grab my book here. This tiny plane is climbing and circling higher and higher. When I say tiny, I mean tiny. There are no seats. Just room for four people to sit on the ground, shoulder to shoulder. …

For stories you won’t find online, grab my book on Amazon here. Three times, at three different locations I’ve seen Waffle Houses provide for a regular beggar. The first was in South Carolina. Some sunburnt scarecrow hobbled through the door. A waitress tapped the manager on the shoulder. I assumed…