The Road to Tombouctou
Back when I was a kid, I read about Timbuktu. I don’t recall exactly where, but I do remember having the impression that is was a grand place with lush green surroundings and majestic buildings.
Maybe, once long ago, that was Timbuktu. Now it’s not so lush or so grand. It can be very interesting for a bit, as the Sahara Desert meets the Niger River and the peoples from these two regions coexists.
Read MoreWipers – Know Them, Use Them
We are on the road to Timbuktu, the long, dusty, dirty road to Timbuktu. We’ve crossed deserts, we’ve crossed rivers, and we’ve crossed the country, but not once in that entire two day and one thousand kilometer trip have we once used the windshield wipers.
Read MoreCall yourself a commuter?
Somewhere in Queens, Sylvester stopped the cab and turned round. “You wearing suspenders?” he asked. When roused at 5am, usually by a tearful child in London, I rub my eyes. But this was midnight on the Van Wyck Expressway, suburban New York. I rubbed my ears. Suspenders? Sylvester, a yellow cab veteran, sighed. “You know, suspenders, to hold up your pants.”
Read MoreAlways Eat on the Street
The best cooking is always streetside Open air cooking Three bowls happy A swank stop Oh am I hungry. Its been hours, seemingly days, since a good meal and I need one now. Not content to wait the usual two hours for ‘fast food’, there is only one option for…
Read MoreDust, Dust, Dust, Dust, Dust
Dust. Rust red dust. From microscopic airborne particles that collect on every flat surface or in your lungs to big sand granules that amass in every un-swept corner of Mali, dust is everywhere here. It’s in my laptop keyboard, on my clothes, and behind my teeth.
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