Category: Travel

Ewa Mazierska/Travel

    The Scarves from Candolim   by Ewa Mazierska Contributing Writer From my holiday in Candolim in India I brought home fifteen scarves. They were sold to me by Lisa, a beach vendor, working on a strip of beach belonging to our...

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A New Zimbabwe

We picked up Renée, our seasoned 4×4 Toyota Prado in Lusaka, spent a day gathering supplies, and were on the road to Livingstone when we realized that we lacked enough Zambian Kwacha for the toll gates. At each town we passed, long lines stretched outside the banks and ATMs. It was two days before Christmas…

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Jennifer Love/Travel

I haven’t been in a church since my grandfather’s funeral over a year ago, but now that I’m traveling in Mexico, I’m checking out churches like a regular Catholic pilgrim. I’m addicted to the fraudulent feelings I get each time I…

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Lauren Johnson/Travel

My Roman classmates blamed the trash on the government corruption. For years, organized crime syndicates had been managing the contracts for sanitation services—primarily as a cover. Under mafia groups, the sanitation workers were well paid (or perhaps better paid than they are now) and could clock in at their leisure. Over the past year, the municipal government has been working to replace the corrupt contracts with legitimate ones. Virginia Raggi, Rome’s recently elected first woman mayor, promises to clean up the mess. In the meantime, garbage will continue to be an essential part of the Roman milieu.

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Celeste Hamilton Dennis/World

Craig and I watch Los Angeles-based Maya Mackrandilal’s Kal/Pani, a video installation whose title references the blackwater creeks found throughout Guyana, and think of our friend Mr. Reece, a man of great character who could a climb a coconut tree as deftly as he could argue that teachers be paid their fair wages. It was with him we took a trip down the Berbice River and learned how to hunt wild boar. A few years later, he too moved “outside” to Philadelphia and began working as a stocker at Walmart so his daughter could live out her dream of becoming an engineer and his son, a doctor.

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The Land of The Sleeping Buddha/Rishi Shankar

We had the barest glimpse of the Sleeping Buddha at Tumling. And it was foggy and cloudy from then onwards. We waited for the skies to clear up as we reached Kalpokhrey, but they did not relent. An old woman with a heavily lined forehead framed in a first floor window is turning a prayer wheel, chanting in a low voice. We camped at All near Sandakphu and woke up to a bitterly cold and foggy morning. We made our way to Sabargram and experienced hailstones.

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