In the city of Helsingborg, a ferry ride across from Helsingor (or, ‘Elsinore’, if you’re drafting a tragedy called ‘Hamlet, Prince of Denmark’), there was once a youth hostel on the northern edge of town midst wooded grounds. It sat on a rise looking down on the city, on the straits to the Baltic Sea, … More Helsingborg Hostel: Baltic Straits, Wedding Straits
If, having been whisked to a secret southern metropolis and you were there set free on the streets, you’d be forgiven for believing you’d found yourself in Brussels, Vienna or Berlin. In truth you would be in the Paris of Latin America, Buenos Aires, whose name translates as ‘Fair Winds’. Famous for bumpy politics, for … More A City Called ‘Fair Winds’: What the Streets Are Saying
They’re up there still. Hundreds of tents pitched in the rubble field at base camp on Everest. Climbers – some, at best bricoleurs – and their Sherpa guides wait for that window of clear days before the monsoon that offers some chance of summiting the mother of all mountains, Chomolungma, 29,035’ of rock, icefall, crevasses, … More Weirdness in the Death Zone: A Tale of the Odd-Number Sardine
The city of Brussels takes itself pretty seriously. It devotes itself to the tricky business of holding together a quarrelsome bilingual country, to projects like the 28-member European Union and to the colossus known as NATO. The city bristles with all-work, no-play diplomats, soldiers, journalists and lobbyists. Whatever sunshine might be left under such dour … More Saturday in Brussels: Waffles, Tintin, Godot … and Waffles
In the 1950s sub-Sahara Africa, still in colonial thrall, was a kind of wild west while the rest of the world restored what had been shattered by world war. The grasslands of Africa, thronged with wild life, remained in many places open range. In what was then a sleepy Chobe River village called Kasane (see … More Desert Tales: When Hunter Becomes Prey*
A close friend of mine once served as a policeman in Kalahari ranching country. As happens where cattle roam arid grazing land, rustlers find opportunity to lead away valuable critters on the hoof when no one is watching. My friend was assigned to investigate just such a case. With a contingent of fellow officers he … More Desert Tales: Of Rustlers and Saving Refreshment
I stood hitchhiking across from the Kalahari Arms Hotel at a crossroads in Botswana’s ranching country. Hang around the Arms long enough and old timers will tell with glee about the goat known to wander in at drowsy midday hours to devour the bar kitty leaving only coins as a tip. Kalahari survival has its … More Going Deep and Wild: Ramble With a Kalahari San Traveler
