Places and People – Ten Memories from the Road

We’re settling the tab after a Lebanese meal in Stockholm. He picks our Amex and shakes his head, “My friends, you are in Lebanon now. American things don’t work here.”

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Drifting along the backwaters in Kerala, past homes, modest and opulent, the boatman shares local history, his voice, raspy against the soft breeze.

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Sitting in a vineyard on Vis, the night sparkles under tea-lights and stars; laughter, fuelled by wine, rings out to the waves.

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The Luangwa Valley is the colour of dark ink. He stops the jeep under a tree. “Look up,” he whispers.  We meet a set of emerald eyes looking down.

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Asking for a menu on Palmižana, the waiter looks across the beach, at the diver coming in, and says, “hang on, I’ll show you.”

I’m exhausted but my brain won’t listen. I’m sightseeing at ten in the night under Bergen’s midnight Sun. This is so weird.

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On the Piazza Navona, we do nothing. A man strums his guitar. Art students sit cross-legged, painting. The cops chase vendors. A little boy chases pigeons.

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Paris is in the middle of a heat wave. We find a bench under the shade, open a bag of macaroons, and watch the city.

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Walking through London’s flea markets everything is fascinating and pretty much useless. I love it all.

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In a crowded kitchen on a farm in central Croatia, we trade travel stories, while peeling red peppers for ajvar; my fingers are stained, and my sides hurt from laughing.

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This post has been entered in the Grantourismo and HomeAway Holiday-Rentals travel blogging competition.

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