Finding Warmth in Zurich’s Chocolate Labyrinth
I went wandering through Zurich’s old town in search of vegan chocolate. What I found instead was a moment of warmth tucked into a tiny shop and offered freely.
When Memory Becomes Light
Mrs. Bryan taught me to memorize paintings when I was ten. I didn’t know the map she was giving me that year would lead me, decades later, to the Rijksmuseum—and to a part of myself I had misplaced.
Don’t Judge a Fox by Its Socks
I judged a woman by her flaming fox sweatshirt. Then she and her mother danced circles around me—literally—and taught me a lesson I didn’t know I needed.
A Conversation in Clay
We thought we were just making roof tiles. What we found was stillness, kindness, and a lump of clay that became a guardian—and a memory.
Hunting Truffles with Cowboy
We set out into the woods to find truffles. Our guide was a dog named Cowboy. He found something else instead—a long bone, possibly human. This is the story of a winter day in the Pacific Northwest, a quietly remarkable dog, and the woman who works beside him.
Frida, Fashion, and the Dream That Followed Me Home
This isn’t quite a travelogue. It’s more like a dream I had while awake, somewhere in Coyoacán. Every word is true—just not all of it happened in the usual way.
My Sinuses vs. Mexico City: A Telenovela
Our trip to Mexico City started with walking tours, tacos, and ambition. It ended with a cold, a curtain, and a surprising lesson in letting go.
The Fire of Flamenco
When I showed up for a flamenco dinner in Seville, I wasn’t expecting a life-altering moment. I was just trying not to cry into my tapas. But then she appeared—in the corner of a tiny bar, under twinkle lights and a “no moving during the show” rule—and reminded me, with every stomp and sweep of her arm, that I still had a body. And a choice.
The Cats Who Ignored Me in Spain
A solo trip to Spain wasn’t the plan. But when my travel partner disappeared into work and I found myself wandering the Alhambra with only sun, stone, and disinterested cats for company, I learned something surprising about presence, perspective—and how a well-timed feline blink can feel like emotional support.
Saint Teresa of San Francisco: A Tale of a Demon Driver and the Woman Whose Compassion Saved Us
Stranded on a dark San Francisco street, Mike slumped onto a stoop, looking less like a guy with motion sickness and more like someone who had lost a fight with a bottle of tequila. People crossed the street to avoid us. That’s when I realized: we weren’t just stuck—we were being judged.