Travel Journal
I stood on the beach today at sunset. Watching people balance cameras while wearing knit hats and flannel shirts – teetering out onto massive logs, silhouetted together against a crimson sky. I saw the same scene I had seen five years before. The same rock formations in the distance, the same haystacks and mossy green trails.
Read MoreVideo footage of our 240 mile trek through Yosemite National Park, Ansel Adams Wilderness, Sequoia National Park, King's Canyon National Park, and to the summit of Mount Whitney at 14,496 ft.
Read MoreI could hear the wind as it whipped through our small cluster of tents, and carried what it could from the rim down to the canyon floor.
Read MoreNapoli isn't the sort of city you can just label and file away, It is beautiful. Infuriating. Confusing. Living here is like going down a rabbit hole of sorts, regardless of voluntarily immersion. Napoli doesn't house wallflowers. Quiet observation is simply not allowed. The people, the noise, the seasons, the chaos…you become involved.
Read MoreIt was the first week of January, and the crowds were gone. I don’t know how cold it was, only that it was.
Read MoreOur guide Americo pointed into the white abyss and said, “familia...there, through the fog, is Huayna Picchu and the best view of Machu Picchu." We squinted, each of us, willing our eyes to see beyond the white wall of cloud. We had hiked fifty miles, for four days, and the thing we had come to see was invisible.
Read MoreAll the lives we could live, all the people we will never know, never will be, they are everywhere. That is what the world is. –Aleksandar Hemon
Read MoreBuried beneath alpaca and sipping hot coca tea, we contemplated the climb through the city's dimly lit passageways for a few high vantage night shots. A relentless route of ascending stone steps, high into thin mountain air, away from the steady hum of Plaza de Armas.
Read MoreMy lungs were sort of on the verge of explosion, staging protest with each step. We were climbing stairs to San Blas, 15lb packs on our backs. It was day one, and despite the good advice given by everyone we had met thus far, we weren’t lying low. One twenty-two hour bus ride through winding mountain roads landed us in Cusco, a Peruvian town perched two miles high in the Andean sky.
Read MoreRiot police blocked our route to Plaza de Armas, and with some prying explained a protest group known as Shining Path was expected to be staging a march–thru at any moment; a Maoist guerrilla insurgent group widely condemned for it's brutality and kidnapping antics.
Read MoreIl bel far niente. The simple pleasure of doing nothing. Capri, Italy. Sans terre, without land or a home, which, therefore, in the good sense, will mean, having no particular home, but equally at home everywhere.
Read MoreThe doorbell rang three times as I debated whether or not to answer. ‘Vieni’ was all that Daniela said as she took me by the arm and pulled me next door. ‘E il mio cumpleano oggi. Questa e mia nonna. Vieni, vieni.’ I stood there like an idiot – in absolute bewilderment.
Read MoreI turned on BBC and plugged in the hot plate; sipped some instant coffee and dug through my suitcase for a pair of worn jeans and a white tank top. I pulled on a pair of converse chucks, brushed my teeth, and checked the time. This was my 9-5.
Read MoreI don't exactly have a way with words, and first impressions are not my forte. As such, I am no stranger to customs and passport interrogations. Exiled to a front row of unoccupied chairs, I rolled out my suitcase and propped up my chucks - half expecting to be seated on a states-bound plane within the next 24 hours.
Read MoreI stepped from the main terminal of Liberia airport with a backpack, a pack of gum and the determination to make my way to Monteverde rainforest without the help of a taxi. I waited for a local bus at the curb and passed 500 Colones to the driver. He was wearing sunglasses and an unbuttoned shirt.
Read MoreDominical is for dreamers and office job dropouts. Dominical is for the people we envy, the people who aren't bothered by status quo.
Read MoreFilm footage of my 10-day trek through Costa Rica and Nicaragua with some fellow vagabonds.
Read MoreWe dropped our bags at a hostel tucked behind a barricade of steel bars and ventured out to the streets in search of food. The roads were empty and wet with rain, soldiered by locked doors and steel gates. We were legitimately intimidated, but too hungry to care.
Read MoreI passed 33,000 Colones across the counter to Alonso, who passed me a slip of paper confirming my seat aboard a van scheduled to cross the border the next morning. Nate high-fived my latest serendipitous act of stupidity, and six of us sat down to toast our bungee jump that afternoon.
Read MoreChocolate chip cookies for breakfast and two mugs of Albert Dragon's famed cafe. It was the perfect way to start a Friday.
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