“Dad, can you come over, right now?” That may have been what Kendra said when she called. But she’s a fifth-generation Newfoundlander, so it’s more
“You didn’t go to the Blue Lagoon?” a friend exclaimed, astonished. Not surprising, given Teetotaller Beach is across the road from where we live, and
Evening rose. Carmine crimson. A duality of colours, our twofold experience of Albarracín, Spain. Evening rose in the labyrinth of medieval buildings in the town.
Phil’s night walk is a ritual at Bosque del Cabo—who would want to miss seeing the infinitesimal creatures, even a dozen of the nocturnal habitants,
Do you know what’s wonderful about sitting down to write a story about some place we’ve travelled? The waves of memories that roll in. And
“Change your money on the black market,” friends who’d been to Argentina advised, “You’ll get 25 percent more than at the banks.” I was all
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