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Coffee With the Traitors’ Club

It was just another weekend for them, but as laughter rippled down the tables, a lump swelled in my throat. I forced a smile and circled my coffee cup with a finger, lost in thoughts of when I had last shared such a moment with friends. I thought back to the Saturday night pre-drinks. The summer BBQs that burnt holes in the night sky. The long walks home to the ferocious tune of Jeff Beck. All then as vivid as the haze of smoke above me.

The Art of Travelling Solo

From the moment I first read Jules Verne’s, ‘Around The World in 80 Days’, my mind awoke to an Imaginarium of possibilities. I became intoxicated with the idea of adventure and exploration. I wanted to travel to the ends of the earth, drink it all in and become drunk on its endless possibilities.

Travelling Fast, Living Slowly: an English Reflection on European Lifestyle

Aside from the essential morning espressos, rustic colourful balconies on which the elderly tend to plants, the buzz of an intrigued centre square, beautiful churches to dip in and out of, twenty-four-hour linen wardrobes, and immaculate meat and seafood served with cocktails that taste ‘just nicer for some reason’, what is there to love about the slow, European life? Well, maybe that’s it, but why does it appeal so much?

Airport Civility has Taken Flight to the Lounge

Images on magnetic tape flicker in succession as a spinning mirror-drum, and revolving disc project (and resurrect) a way of life lost to the ages. In this film we see painted hot air balloons adorning the bulkhead of a 1958 Pan-Am Boeing 707. Six passengers laugh and mingle, seated in the round upon a cushioned booth as flight stewardesses deliver complimentary meals and beverages on trays of sterling silver. A centerpiece of potted flowers adorns the table.

Old San Juan: The Rhythm of La Bomba and Hidden Delights

I have briskly strode the streets of Old San Juan on many occasions, I have sauntered through them but once. This 500-year-old city can be just as easy to hate as it is to love. If you only look at the surface, the city’s whimsy runs no deeper than the pastel paint adorning its Spanish colonial buildings. To truly love La Ciudad Amurallada, one must first scale its stone walls and look beyond its many blemishes; and, frankly, this is impossible to achieve without first surrendering to “island time.”

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