Tag: travel
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Portuguese Pot Pourri
Since we’re still basking in the afterglow of yesterday’s spa treatment (and metabolizing the mimosas), I thought I’d take the time to clear out some digital miscellany from the trip. But first, Happy Birthday to our good friend, Jill, who is back in the states. Although it is her big day here in the time…
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Brave New Day
Although we didn’t technically plan it this way, our trip to Portugal coincided with our wedding anniversary. And like a lot of older couples who are still very much in love and physically vibrant, we decided to commemorate the occasion by getting naked…and then paying a stranger to touch us. There really is no difference…
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Comida e Bebida
If you know a little Spanish, you already know enough Portuguese to guess what this post is about (but as we learned yesterday, you can’t pronounce it). Without going all Anthony Bourdain on you, I absolutely agree that other cultures are best experienced through the stomach (and oftentimes the liver). Here are some examples from…
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Mother Tongue Tied
As languages go, Portuguese is a bit of a two-faced Judas. As we explore the island of Sao Miquel in our shitty, rented Renault (Renault is French for Chrysler, by the way), the signage is easy enough to translate if you’ve spent any time studying Spanish (or a Doordash menu from the Mexican restaurant on…
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Azores 101
I realize that not everyone of my readers is a seasoned, world-savvy, international polyglot like me (you know, the guy who thought Estonia was a late-model Hyundai less than twelve months ago), so I thought you might benefit from a little, hard-earned Azorean trivia to round out your knowledge base. Lesson 1: The Azorean Islands…
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World Tour(ettes)
Growing up, I had an uncle with Tourette’s Syndrome. Sadly, however, it wasn’t the hilarious kind that made him spew the most inappropriate of words during the most appropriate of situations. Uncle Ron just made a repeated, disgusting nasal “honk” that forced you to involuntarily flinch in fear of being hit by the loogie that…
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Johnny Crappleseed
Whenever Patty and I first start contemplating an extended trip, especially abroad, we start stockpiling our cheapest, oldest clothes. You know the ones. The items you don’t really wear but still can’t seem to give up on: Shiraz-stained blouses, underwear that’s lost its will to elasticize, 5K funwalk T’s, shorts that make you look too…
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Amster-damned!
I don’t trust the Dutch, mainly because they are so hard to pin down. Just when I think I understand the difference between Holland, The Netherlands, Belgium and Luxembourg, it blows up into a Flemish fuck-all. (Oh, and you can throw “The Hague” in there too, which sounds like the name of an aging, Euro-discotheque…
The Hillbilly Viking 