Lost in Portugal, Part 1

The first meal in Portugal is whatever’s closest to the hostel. Flying into Porto from Madrid was no problem, but figuring out the metro system, finding the hostel, dehydration, sleep-deprivation––all help create a healthy appetite. The streets in Porto smell like grilled meats. At a local churrasqueira, you can watch a couple of guys sweat …

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Papaya Thief Hops Across the Pond

I'll be traveling for the next four weeks through Spain, Portugal, and a slice of France, devouring as much delicious food, history, and wine as I can. From some old lady's cottage in Setúbal, to a Michelin-starred restaurant in San Sebastían, or La Boqueria in Barcelona, I will be writing, photographing, and posting about my …

Another Day, Another Pepper

I've been in Arizona and New Mexico the last seven days, deliberately without a schedule, plan, sense of direction. It's the kind of feeling one needs after constant planning, yelling at people, being the know-it-all boss intent on finding perfection, or at least continuity, consistency. So far, in a mere seven days, in desert, in …