Reading this on a desktop? You’re a dinosaur like me.

I’m feeling like those monks who transcribed books until Gutenberg came along. Newspapers are on their deathbed. Dead magazines litter our libraries. Public dialogue is soundbite-driven – or drivel. After reading story after story about the… Read More

Paving Paradise – When the gringo trail becomes a tourist turnpike

“I remember when (insert place name here) wasn’t so crowded with sun-screened tourists following flag-waving guides while wearing their brand new white sneakers and color-coordinated new clothes.” It’s also before the local economy and standard of… Read More

Sullivan in exile

I remember old Mr. Sullivan, walking down a former country road with his ancient dog and a bottle sticking out of the brown bag in his overcoat pocket. Rain or shine. Winter or summer. Same heavy… Read More

Where nobody knows your name – or wants to.

There’s a bar in a town along the gringo trail where, if you’ve spent a few nights there over the years, the owner/bartender/every-other-job-doer knew your drink, your favorite snacks and where you’ve been. But he never… Read More