It’s a destination that rivals New York in terms of its culinary scene, New Orleans with its architectural charm, and L.A. for epic coastal views. Not to mention its distinction of being the world’s most livable city four years in a row. If you’re headed down under, Melbourne is an ideal starting point for a trip up the Australian coast, or the perfect place to spend a week. Here’s the perfect seven-day itinerary.
Find it in my article for Yahoo, here.
An old farmer lives on his farm with his teenage son. He also has a beautiful stallion that he lovingly cares for. The farmer enters his stallion into the annual county fair competition. His stallion wins first prize. The farmer’s neighbors gather to congratulate him on this great win. He calmly says, “Who knows what is good and who knows what is bad?”
Puzzled by this reaction, the neighbors go away. The next week, some thieves who heard about the stallion’s increased value steal the horse. When the neighbors come to commiserate with the farmer they find him again very calm and gathered. He says, “Who knows what is good and who knows what is bad?”
Several days later, the spirited stallion escapes from the thieves and finds his way back to the farm bringing with him a few wild mares he has befriended along the way. To his neighbors’ excited rounds of congratulations, the farmer once again says, “Who knows what is good and who knows what is bad?”
A few weeks later, the farmer’s son is thrown off one of these new mares as he is trying to break it in, and his leg is fractured. As the neighbors gather to commiserate with the old farmer, he one again reminds them, “Who knows what is good and what is bad?”
The following week, the imperial army marches through the village, conscripting all eligible young men for the war that has just broken out. The old farmer’s son is spared due to his fractured leg. The neighbors no longer bother to come to the old farmer to congratulate him. By now they know what his response will be…
Source: Positive Intelligence by Shirzad Chamine
My friend Paul sold me on Guatemala when he called it the India of Central America, alluding to the bright colors, traditional clothing and crowded yet lush cityscapes.
I went for five days and then prayed that my flight home would be cancelled so I could stay foreverrr…or at least a little bit longer. I landed in Guatemala City (a less-than-three-hour flight from Miami), headed to the old capital of Antigua then made my way to the villages and towns around Lake Atitlán.
An aerial view of Guatemala City, the capital
Severe earthquakes in 1773 once left Antigua abandoned; the old (flourishing-again) capital is filled with monumental ruins
Antigua’s quiet cobblestone streets…
…and colorful buildings and locals
The view from a hike to Panachajel’s Tierra Linda
Speedboats to San Pedro
Horseback riding in San Pedro
(More pictures on Instagram
I have 15+ pages of writing on Burning Man thus far but will spare you until it’s a bit more cohesive.
“Travel is little beds and cramped bathrooms. It’s old television sets and slow Internet connections. Travel is extraordinary conversations with ordinary people. It’s waiters, gas station attendants, and housekeepers becoming the most interesting people in the world. It’s churches that are compelling enough to enter. It’s McDonald’s being a luxury. It’s the realization that you may have been born in the wrong country. Travel is a smile that leads to a conversation in broken English. It’s the epiphany that pretty girls smile the same way all over the world. Travel is tipping 10% and being embraced for it. Travel is the same white T-shirt again tomorrow. Travel is accented sex after good wine and too many unfiltered cigarettes. Travel is flowing in the back of a bus with giggly strangers. It’s a street full of bearded backpackers looking down at maps. Travel is wishing for one more bite of whatever that just was. It’s the rediscovery of walking somewhere. It’s sharing a bottle of liquor on an overnight train with a new friend. Travel is ‘Maybe I don’t have to do it that way when I get back home.’”
||Nick Miller, Isn’t It Pretty to Think So? (via ethereally)