As an Australian with ancestors in the Netherlands and British Isles, my family, my friends and I are firmly rooted in a cultural entity commonly known as “the west.” This definition generally refers to Australia, New Zealand, Canada, the United States and countries in western Europe. While not all my friends and family are entirely… Continue reading The United States Is Not A Western Country. Here’s Why.
If it isn't already, the village of Santa Ana will soon be absorbed into Mexico City. It overlooks the metropolis from a hillside above what by night becomes a terrestrial galaxy pooled on the floor of the Valle de Mexico, lapping at the foothills around the patches of darkness that betray the high places. Agustín Melo lives… Continue reading Agustín, The Migrant Who Returned
Kilometres: 5783 New states: 2 Countries ridden from end to end: 0.9999999999 I've neglected this blog for a while, so I apologise in advance. This is going to be a long'n. For a while I'd been kind of obsessed with the idea of riding through a desert to chase vague visions of heat, dust and… Continue reading Tehachapi – San Diego: Detour to the Desert
Kilometres: circa. 3500 Average meals per day: 6-ish Likelihood of having diabetes: high Pretty proud of that title. Just look at the alliteration! Last I wrote I'd just arrived in: San Francisco In San Francisco, I ate. I arrived at Christian's place in Emeryville, on the eastern edge of the San Francisco Bay and wedged between… Continue reading San Francisco – Tehachapi: From the City to the Sierra to the South
Kilometres: One thousand and something! "Evergreen State"s crossed: not quite one. Star-spangled flags spotted: about 7.3 per person. As I pedalled out of Nicholson Street after a few days with some family friends, I thought "Well, I'm a cyclist again". I left Penticton full, happy, excited and, well, in pouring rain and into a driving… Continue reading Penticton – Randle: A full plate in Washington state
I was sitting in an airport in Orlando, not long after publishing a post predicting how hard it was going to be to leave the unforgettable people and the crazy times I'd known and had in Bogota. I was sweating in jeans, a remnant of Bogota's pre-dawn chill unsuited to Florida in summer, let alone… Continue reading Nu Yawk, Nu Yawk
"So when I was sitting next to you guys on the plane, I thought you were Mormons," confesses our new friend Junior, a young Colombian guy, as we sat waiting for connecting flights in Fort Lauderdale, Florida. We laugh, but Junior is peculiarly stone faced. "No, I'm serious." Several weeks earlier, my housemate (who I'll… Continue reading The Vegas Adventure