Standing on the banks of the Sucasari River as dusk began to settle around me, I strained to hear the sound of approaching boats over the cacophony of rainforest insects and frogs.
The tide enchants me with its consistency. The creatures fill my heart, and the unknown drives me. With each beat of the ocean’s heart, it sends waves rising up, crashing on the shore, or slowly stretching up to gently kiss the sand.
I looked down on her. Was there any other way to say it? I’m sure that’s how she saw me. Physically, there was no way around it. The top of her head came to my waist, her height the result of a lifetime of poor nutrition. Economically, I, a teen American, would be given more in life than she ever had. I was finishing high school with excellent grades and a good shot at college.
I am very privileged to have the opportunity to read Dr. Séverine Autesserre’s book Peaceland: Conflict Resolution and the Everyday Politics of International Intervention.
This is what happened to me yesterday on the bus.
One of the pure joys of travel is the food. Yes, that's right - food is a window to culture. Think about it - from the night markets of Southeast Asia to the traditional recipes of, well, any culture, what people make and eat is a product of terroir, seasons, climate, history, and more.