Flickers of light signaled the firecrackers' direction. I choked on the smoke as I tried to find a clearer place to watch these theatrics but then the noise and heat became too intense. Pursing my goal of capturing these festivities in photos and videos, I remained persistent. As the crowd swirled, the smoke subsided amid the final sparks, . . .
My curiosity about Israel was overwhelming. I had a compulsion to see and touch the places depicted in the Bible and Torah. No longer satisfied with reading about the past, I needed to feel it like a kettle steaming for too long.
First impressions of Tel Aviv was disbelief. Walking down Levinsky Street and past the Central Bus Station, I . . .
Rio is where you go to party. Salvador de Bahia is where you go to hold hands with someone you care about, where you sneak a kiss from someone you like, and where you and a special someone walk the historic center of Pelourinho hand and hand while samba plays in the background.
Bahia made its mark on history by being the point of entry . . .
Athens, Patras, and Naxos Island
It was Dionysus who taught me the word siga (slowly) as I drank shots of Ouzo and Tsipouro while Old Dirty Bastard, Run the Jewels, and Handsome Boy Modeling School played on the sound system. A trio of friends danced celebrating one of their name days as an almost identical, dimly-lit bar sat besides ours, distanced only by a narrow walkway. . . .
There is something intimate about being in Oslo. To me, it felt like the last hurrah: the moment you realize that your too old to stay out late for a party. The last apron strings of carelessness and hedonistic ways. Nights start at the local bar and end up at a house party with an attractive stranger. Quick friends are made over dancing . . .
One of the most beautiful sounds I had ever heard was a chime that brought silence to an entire city and what followed was the chant of,“Allahu Akbar”as devout followers of the Islamic faith turned to Mecca and began prayer. What preceded was the night sounds of people laughing, joking, and enjoying themselves as we eavesdropped . . .
Woke up on a pull out and immediately walked towards the window and onwards to the balcony. Spread out before me was a stretch of Route 1, with the beach along side it that hugged the Pacific as the sun hovered from behind.
It was our first night along the scenic route that runs from Los Angeles to San Francisco. A road trip between two . . .