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Category Archive for: ‘Story Posts’

drug bras.

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It’s a terrifying experience to be on a bus in a foreign country where certain events cause you to suspect there may be drugs aboard. I met a Canadian couple in the Sahara desert some years ago who had landed themselves in an Ecuadorian prison, blamed for drug possession of marijuana that wasn’t theirs. I’ve had nightmares about it ever …

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the tequila disaster of 2004.

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AUTHOR’S NOTE: The events referenced in this post happened eight years ago. I have since become a somewhat more responsible adult. Somewhat. At least I’m more functional. ———————– When I lived in Japan I had a friend named Ramon from Honduras. He was part of a larger group of friends from all over the world that were in a scholarship …

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russian invasion.

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The first thing I noticed about the Republic of Georgia was that the locals weren’t too fond of Russians. When I asked Georgians for a detailed explanation as to why this was so (I suppose I could have just skimmed over the last thousand years of Georgian history), I received the succinct response: “The Russians are always trying to invade …

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greek grandmother.

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When I lived in the small town of Preveza on the west coast of Greece, I took up running. I was usually not running from anything or anyone, but for purposes of physical fitness. I would wake up at 6:30 a.m., run for about an hour down the beautiful Mediterranean coast before turning back and jogging home. My large, airy, …

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head hurl.

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During my junior year of college, I lived and studied in the southern Spanish city of Seville. The Sevillanos, as Sevilla’s residents are called, really know how to live life properly. They eat lots of pork, drink lots of red wine, and have a penchant for flamenco, which involves a lot of clapping and stomping, two pastimes that virtually everyone …

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mafia cab.

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Of any country I’ve ever traveled through or lived in, Japan is by far the safest. A young foreign woman, such as myself at the time, could stumble halfway home at 4am, pass out in someone’s doorway several blocks from her house, and remain completely unbothered until she woke up at sunrise to finish her bike ride home (hey, it …

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black nikka’ed.

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I moved to Japan in the fall of 2003. Soon after, I acquired a quirky boyfriend from Oklahoma named Barnabus. Quirky is a polite term I use to describe Barnabus’s habit of drinking too much whiskey and ending up with mild head injuries. Actually, ‘whiskey’ might be a little too generous a term for what Barnabus and I were drinking. …

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gun truck.

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About a month after I graduated from high school, I took a solo trip through Guatemala, Belize, and El Salvador. As an innocent-looking-barely-eighteen-year-old American female traveling alone in third world countries, I made some “interesting” friends, and one such friend was Tanja. Tanja was of Danish nationality, Korean ancestry, and spoke English as though she were the Queen. There are …

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donkeys only.

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When I was twenty-one years old I moved to a small town on the west coast of Greece called Preveza. Because I lived in a large, whitewashed two-bedroom apartment near the ocean, I quickly acquired two weekend roommates. Gregor and Angus, Englishman and Irishman respectively, stayed in my spare bedroom every weekend, preferring Preveza’s limited nightlife to the surrounding villages, …

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intro.

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intro. My mother always told me I should write about my travels. I sincerely doubt this is the type of writing she had in mind. People often ask about my overseas journeys. Although I’m eager to share, I’ve never been able to appropriately convey the absurdity of some of the situations I’ve gotten myself into. I mean, how does one …

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