OH, THE
PLACES YOU'LL GO
KETCHIKAN, Alaska I
cough myself awake on the MV Columbia. I haven't kicked the cold I acquired
in Zimbabwe last week. Sleeping on deck isn't helping, but I refuse to wuss
into a cabin.
No one said travel writing would be easy. But in the glittering, greedy city of Hong Kong, I sipped gin-and-tonics at the Foreign Correspondents' Club, and danced until dawn in a scarlet bob wig and pink aviator glasses despite my capitalist guilt. I refused a Bedouin sheik's proposal to become wife number two while veiled in a Jordanian desert camp.
Last month I watched jackass
penguins nesting in the dunes near Cape Town, South Africa. Next month I'll
see puffins at Europe's northernmost point, Honningsvåg, Norway. The dots
connect in nearly a straight line: one degree of longitude, over 105 of latitude.
And all so, so far from the pea silage and mudflat sleech of Samish Island, my childhood home.
No comments:
Post a Comment
Note: Only a member of this blog may post a comment.