Summer Postcards 2011
A City Contrived
In Brasília, everything is perfect—and right from the start, I hate it.
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.
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.
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.
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.
Another Round to the Parents
The clinic had handed me over to immigration, where I was waiting to be served deportation papers.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
