Twenty three years after I left Florida for my career, it was time to return to my adopted hometown.Continue readingGreetings from Hell: My long overdue return to Florida.
Oaxaca, Mexico is a full eight-hour drive from the nearest coast. What the hell, am I right?
Not every vacation destination we choose is some exotic location in a far-flung corner of the globe. Sometimes, we’re just too lazy to make proper travel plans.
A quick 20-minutes west of Tampa, Florida lies a full two-and-a-half miles of cocaine-white sand named Clearwater Beach. It’s an easily accessible, subtropical paradise that makes everyone who visits forget their troubles, worries and — judging from the tourists we saw — their fashion sense.
A famous architect designed a bridge in Reading and that was enough reason to go there.
When we first made plans to go to Hawai‘i, we didn’t know much about the place, like the fact that you put an upside-down apostrophe between the last two ‘i’s. But we’d been to Honolulu before and thought we’d gotten the gist of the 50th state: Hot sun, lots of flora and fauna, sprawling beaches, bars and Barcaloungers. So it came as a shock when our plane touched down in the Proterozoic Era.
We didn’t pick Mazatlán for its deep-sea fishing, sailing, or any of the other things you can reportedly do there. We picked it for all the things you don’t do there. Namely, put on shoes or pants. This was our “sit around drinking beer while reading People Magazine” vacation. But I still managed to find things to write about: Iguanas, mostly.
Cancun has fascinating archeological sites and a rich history that you can explore in between Margaritas.
We spent a week in the not-so-exotic — but still technically foreign — Commonwealth of Puerto Rico.