On Monday I wrote 900 words about two hikes I went on to Portage Glacier. In summary, I took off on a spontaneous hike on my own and I was defeated by my fears of the wild.
In Varanasi, in the year 2012, among the dead bodies floating down the Ganges, the corpses burning in the funeral pyres, amid the voracious touts and the Indians bathing in the polluted, trash-filled river, I noticed something disturbing and out of place: I saw a […]
When I travel to “scary” third-world countries, my parents worry. They envision me kidnapped by Jihadists, murdered by drug lords or held captive by a rogue government and forced to pay a ransom for my release.