We weren’t even halfway up the mountain yet, and I was already coming to terms with my own mortality. “Don’t take that trail,” the apartment owner had told us. “It’s very steep. Go around this way instead.” But we had slept late and missed the bus. And this trail began right at the edge of the village. It seemed like the most convenient option at the time. I began to doubt the wisdom of this...
Okay, I swiped that title from Steve Kilbey. It’s the name of a really cool box set containing a CD of spoken word tracks that accompany a series of postcards printed from his paintings. I highly recommend checking it out — my favourite prose poetry pieces on there are The Visitor and The Lonely City. Anyway, I stole the title because this very topic has been on my mind for the past couple weeks...
I’ve been in Berlin for the past few weeks, soaking up some art and inspiration in my favourite city. And no visit is complete without soaking up a few of the local spirits, too. I had a chance to stop by one of my favourite cocktail bars last week. And it just happens to be in the very same neighbourhood as our current short term flat. It’s called Beckett’s Kopf. There’s no sign to mark...
I’ve been running this website since March 2009, and this is my 300th blog. I guess that’s an anniversary of sorts, and it got me thinking about my early years as a writer. I made several false starts during my twenties, mostly because I just didn’t have any life experience, and so I had nothing to say. I only really found my topic with travel. That was a way in, an exotic frame for me to explore...
When I was a teenager, my vision of university was one of solid stone buildings, some covered in vines. The footsteps of a single person echoing from a lonely courtyard late at night. Vast libraries with wood panelled walls and statues of ancient Greeks. And new worlds of knowledge opened by brilliant professors, who would spark discussions that would rage far into the next morning’s light. None...
Me and Tomoko were shopping in Prenzlauer Berg early one evening this past Fall. And when the time was right, we walked down a quiet street until I found the blank steel door that I’d been searching for. There was no sign. Just a photo of the Irish playwright Samuel Beckett in a dark window. I reached out and rang the bell. A crack of light appeared moments later, and a head poked out. I gave my...
The topic of pre-trip reading came up on my Facebook page the other day when we were discussing Iceland. I want to share a little of my process, because I think you’ll find it helpful. I usually end up writing about my journeys, so I do a lot of research before a trip. I start by reading a couple volumes of history about that place or region to get oriented. And then I read early travel accounts...
I’m just back from a couple weeks in Iceland, exploring remote corners of the Central Highland deserts, and just soaking up the silence and that clean subarctic air. I’ll be writing a feature about the trip for Outpost magazine, so I don’t want to say too much about it here. At least, not until I’ve cut my notes together into article form. But I would like to share a few tips that you likely...
It’s in the middle of the Baltic Sea, halfway to Latvia, but it’s Sweden’s largest island. It’s been occupied since at least the Middle Neolithic, and you’ll find rune stones, ship burials and the remains of fortified settlements. You might even find buried treasure, like the legendary Spillings Hoard, a massive 85kg pile of Viking silver dug up in 1999. The island’s walled capital was the main...
I consume an enormous amount of salt — at least, according to my wife, who scolds me each time I twist that grinder over my dinner plate for more than 3 minutes. “It’s an insult to the cook,” she says. “You didn’t even taste it first.” “But I really like salt,” I reply. “And it’s loaded with crucial minerals. Without it we would die. Do you want me to die? Well, do you…?” The conversation tends...