Watering the Mambas
People say that Africa gets inside you, grabs ahold of something in you. That for many it’s hard to get away once you’ve lived in this land of red earth and tall grass. I saw so many beautiful and...
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Fighting for My Place in Paris
I forced myself to fight for a spot on the ligne 13 this morning. A little girl squeezed my knees and gave me a genuine smile. Her honesty relaxed me. I can feel a lady with a wrinkled forehead breathe...
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Neredesen, Margaret…Where are you?
Life as an exchange student opens up doors to many curiousities. During my summer in Istanbul, Turkey on a full government scholarship for Turkish language study, I did a lot of thinking about the location...
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Lost and Found: Yosemite
I’m flat on my stomach flying at 9,000 feet, legs tight and arms stretched wide. My neck and head are over the edge, and the...
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We Share the Same Blood
Echad, shtayim, shalosh, arba…”The foreign sounds of counting came from the deck of a dhow, a traditional Arab sailboat, cruising through a harbor filled with open sky, twinkling city...
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Les Vendanges in St. Georges
I am a little late on recounting this story, but it's worth telling. Our program director, Joelle, told us our morning class was cancelled and would be replaced by an...
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Upon My Rocky Path
Traveling alone without speaking the local language is no simple task. Why, then, do I continue to do it? This was a question I was asking myself two winters ago when I was traveling alone to...
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Chapter 6 (of 11): The Osa Peninsula
"This is worse than bland," declared Paddy in his London accent. "It tastes like wet socks." He passed the cup of watered oatmeal to Lochy. "It`s energy,"...
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