Travel Writing
Heaven
We are going to Africa. Our tiny plane flies through the darkness, shifting up and down. On my SONY I listen to a Talking Heads song I have fallen in love with lately: Heaven…is a place…
A place where nothing… Nothing ever happens…while I try to imagine the place where we are going.
Postcards from Asia
INDIA The trip by cab from the airport to Mumbai takes more than an hour and is stunning. India dances around us, right up to the taxi cab window, in various mutilated forms: half a man on a skateboard, his hands reaching up to the window; a man with no arms (I shrink back: how am I to give him the money?); a little girl who flirts with us, running her small hand seductively along the window glass and twisting away with the sweet, faraway look of someone who has lost her mind…..
During the pandemic, we all became armchair travelers by necessity, and I began to think about places I’ve been that do not exist anymore. In 1987, the border between Tibet and Nepal opened for the first time in decades, and I was lucky enough to go overland from Kathmandu to Lhasa….
Specs
I am 26. Every day, the same outfit: track shoes and a long a-line tan cotton skirt that reaches to my ankles “Your tent dress,” my boyfriend B. calls it with distaste. “Modest dress in India,” advised the Lonely Planet guidebook. I’m a girl who follows rules; a girl who likes to remain silent and fade into the background. Except for the glasses: fire engine red….