First, a scene from my own personal nutshell:
KAT; self. As played by self.
LYFT driver; anyone from anywhere.
(San Francisco; inside a Toyota Prius. The DRIVER in the front of the car begins a conversation with a question straight out of Chit Chat 101. KAT, the passenger in the back, relives, for the 42nd time, the following.)
How long have you lived in the city?
(Looks into the review mirror)
KAT (sighs to herself because she knows where this is going):
Almost two years.
This was no ordinary getaway. I had characters without homes, streets with no names, bars without atmosphere. I had to search for authenticity, otherwise I’d remain feeling a fraud.
Fleeing family and jobs, I arrived alone. I had to allow myself this sliver of selfishness. This was me, exhaling.
I had a single bed. Everything in the room was white except the wood floor and a royal-blue chair: the perfect blank canvas. I purchased wine to match artichokes and began indulging, passionately fingering my laptop with oily tips.
I knew nobody. Continue reading
Rather appropriately for a travel post, I write this in a hotel in Mumbai where I’ve stopped for a few hours on the penultimate leg of my trip. Oh, how I love to travel. It’s in my blood. Really.
International travel has never been easier. Flights are plentiful and somewhat affordable, and vacation destinations are growing more and more accommodating to English speakers. There are plenty of places around the globe to stick your feet in the sand, get a fruity-rum drink, and kick back. Thanks to one app, though, traveling has never been more stressful: Instagram, which enables your friends to follow your feed, living their future vacation vicariously through your current one. Your friends need you to have an amazing vacation because they need to know their next vacation can be amazing, too! That’s a lot of pressure, you guys!