In Search of the Elusive Rare Blue Morpho Butterfly, Monte Verde Cloudforest - Costa Rica John M. Edwards compares Costa Rican ecotourism vs. narcissism I awake from a Magic Realism dream, evaporating. I am once again surrounded by evil anacondas in the charmed atmosphere of Costa Rica’s “Monteverde Cloud Forest,” breathing the bracing air of golden pre-Colombian pagan gods talking in exceedingly loud voices. I astounded myself by the … [Read more...]
Dispatch: Kentucky Fried Moa
Bumbling into a Big Bird better than Popeye’s in a primary rainforest on a remote New Zealand isle, John M. Edwards raves, “Don’t mess with dinner!” Part I In Auckland, New Zealand, I was roosting in the common room of this crap budget flophouse, perusing my guidebook and gearing up to fly to Fiji soon despite a recent military coup, when the heated roundtable discussion of the relative cleanliness and cheapness of Kiwi backpacker hostels … [Read more...]
Unique Martinique: A Napoleonic Retreat
John M. Edwards, a future inductee into The Napoleon Society, storms Martinique in search of his own Josephine. A huge fan of Napoleon Bonaparte, the hero of post-Revolutionary France, I left the U.K. Crown Colony of Montserrat in the days before their volcano blew up for the fatal shores of Martinique via a scary Island Air prop plane. Landing with a jarring whump, my galpal and I, along with the burdensome baggage of my Sistah Sah, then … [Read more...]
Bohemian Rhapsody
John M. Edwards takes the waters in the Czech Republic’s so-called West Bohemian Spa Triangle in order to spy out the local talent and bathe in the buff. . . . “Give me a place to stand on, and I will have the earth.” --Archimedes In the “West Bohemian Spa Triangle,” consisting of the old spa towns Carlsbad, Marienbad, and Franzenbad, now all hiding behind Czech names, I thought to myself that it doesn’t get any better than this! In … [Read more...]
How to Make Sense out of Scoring “Sense” in the Caribbean
Greetings from General Montgomery! ON a vacation island retreat, a young John M. Edwards rollies with a real live Rastafarian - and lives to regret it. “BOY! BOY!” I looked over at the sculpted resort hedge, shivering in the breeze like a wet Chia Pet and illuminated by a Tikki torch, and stepped uncertainly off the porch. I felt like a young adult waking up from a Frank W. Dixon Hardy Boys mystery. “Boy! Boy! Come here!” I walked … [Read more...]
Vulgar Wheat: A Trace of Thrace Bugaria
John M. Edwards chows down on subpar "Vulgarian" grub and survives a dangerous dispute over a restaurant bill in the Balkans. Oh well, there is always the region's lip-smacking yogurt. . . . Bulgaria has by far the best yogurt in the world, partly because they invented it. They also are (supposedly) responsible for the regional cuisine shared by many of its neighbors: Bulgar wheat, stuffed grape leaves, baklava, kebabs, goat cheese, and … [Read more...]
The Thai That Binds, Eine Kleine Nacht Market
An American backpacker cannot decide whether street food or budget restaurants offer the best (read: safest) fetish of freshness until he visits one of Thailand’s signature Floating Night Markets... As someone used to eating Thai food in New York City, with restaurants with babytalk names like “Yum Yum” and “Tastee Thai,” I was blown away when I tasted real Siamese fare for the first time in Bangkok’s Banglamphu district, an area filled with … [Read more...]
The Kamping Fuhrer
Inside an Impressionist painting, in the French south, on the campground, inside the trailer, we were all talking and drinking up a storm like total strangers who’ve never met before. The bearded Brit nervously cleared his throat, extended his glass, and made polite overtures to my uncorked bottle of wretched red "vin de table." The mysterious Aragorn-like Englander looked like he hadn’t had a drink in an eon and that each sentence was framed … [Read more...]
Sheiks on the Plane, International Airspace
John M. Edwards flies into the wild blue yonder from London Heathrow to New York JFK, wedged in between two suspicious-looking suspected terrorists supposedly from the United Arab Emirates. . “Goddammit, there are snakes on the plane!” I couldn’t help but laugh at the drunken comment attributed to Samuel Jackson several aisles behind, followed by the lame “Don’t call me Shirley” from Airplane. While my two outlandishly dressed seatmates … [Read more...]
Bucket Shop Blues
Daring to save deflationary dollars during a worldwide recession, John M. Edwards tries a risky “bucket shop” for cheapo airfare to Amsterdam, ending up on a white-knuckles chariot charter flight from hell. . . . For the umpteenth time I must reiterate: It is now high time to cash in and use up all those Frequent Flyer Miles. But with a worldwide economic disaster grounding us with nightmare worries about the future and egregious … [Read more...]
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