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Summer Postcards 2011

Summer Postcards 2011

A City Contrived

In Brasília, everything is perfect—and right from the start, I hate it.

Summer Postcards 2011

Further than the Shredder

There comes a time, during a behind-a-desk internship in New York, when you realize that your only weekday exercise is the hurried walk back and forth from your desk to the shredder in the room next door.

Summer Postcards 2011

In Salmiak Territory

When I bit into my first marble of salmiak, my tongue burned from the sharp saltiness and the back of my nose felt as if it had been struck by a mixture of fermented stingray meat and Windex.

Summer Postcards 2011

Lessons on the Court

Admittedly, the quality of the game on the court outside the schoolhouse has room for improvement. Martin’s jump shot involves no jump, and the one-armed hurl he makes when throwing the ball at the net barely resembles a shot.

Summer Postcards 2011

I'm Still Standing ... in a Cornfield

When I learned that Elton John would be playing in Padua, I wasted little time in buying a ticket.

Summer Postcards 2011

Another Round to the Parents

The clinic had handed me over to immigration, where I was waiting to be served deportation papers.

Summer Postcard: Where Opposites Meet
Summer Postcards 2011

Summer Postcard: Where Opposites Meet

Summer Postcards 2011

Chile's Got Talent

I learned, too, that Chileans were just as eager to celebrate a train wreck of an audition—that of the breakdancing mime, for instance—as they were to celebrate a glorious success.

Summer Postcards 2011

For Princesses or Presidents

As we were getting ready to leave—the spooky loneliness had begun to wig us out—a little girl appeared atop the largest tower.

Summer Postcards 2011

The Yorkshire Blues

It’s a scene straight out of Wuthering Heights, and by the time I started my descent, I believed that Emily Brontë must have been, by Yorkshire countryside standards, a cheerful sort of gal.

Summer Postcards 2011

A Night at the Station: A Timeline

I never intended to spend the night at Munich’s main train station, a sprawling structure that flows into a neighborhood of food stands, youth hostels, sex shops, strip clubs, and casinos.

Summer Postcards 2011

Waiting as a Way of Life

Can you believe the guards at the central station were watching a Manchester United vs. Barcelona game, and let a rogue impala canter in and wreck the transformers? Neither can I.

Summer Postcards 2011

Under the Golden Arches

Thus rationalized, I succumbed. In the homeland of pasta, pizza, and gelato, I was ordering burgers—and a side of fries with that.

Summer Postcards 2011

From the Ice to the Streets

“It’s just a disgrace,” said my uncle, a Canucks season ticket holder. I could tell the conversation was paining him—maybe even more than my recent move to Boston, home of the Bruins.

Summer Postcards 2011

Surrounded at Sea

Suddenly, we are surrounded. Having overcome their fear of humans in order to seek refuge from their playground romance, frolicking otters dart in and out of the water around us.

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