WordPress blogger Brixpoul was nice enough to nominate me for this here award. It involves answering these questions and nominating other blogs and asking them questions. I at least have time to answer the question portion, so here they is.
What is your favorite film?
Hedwig and the Angry Inch
If you needed to emigrate, which country would you choose?
What is your favorite airline?
What is your favorite tip for city breaks?
Don’t live in one
What makes you smile?
Driver or passenger?
How many countries have you visited at least one night?
A lady never reveals her number
Book or eReader?
What’s an ereader
Best job you ever had?
Worst job you ever had?
Glass half full or half empty?
Hiked the Quilotoa Loop on my birthday, a dormant volcano filled with a jade lake fabled to be bottomless. But it’s not really bottomless, and it wasn’t really my birthday; February 29th won’t come until 2016, but it was close enough, and I needed an excuse to disappear into a crazy volcano somewhere, so.
thealltimeverywhere.tumblr.com is being constantly updated with all kinds of outdoorsy porn and punk rock travel stuff so bookmark it, yo.
Got lost in the Centro Historico – the Old Town – riding past crumbly colored houses stacked on hillsides, smushed breathlessly with a million other Quitenos on the bus. Accepting that I had no idea where I was, I tried to get off, but the doors shut sooner than I could finish climbing my way through the forest of thick sweaty limbs tangled together in the limbo between stops, reaching for steel poles and gasping for air. I got out at the next stop and walked who-knows-where – along a busy road strangling a vacant mountain – no people around except for in cars. Reminded me of long stretches of roads all over the U.S. with sidewalks unwalked on for ages – 15 miles to the next stoplight, islands of forest breaking up the homes from the roads – except that walking along the road in Quito I saw some abandoned building in the valley to my right; nothing really keeping me from the fall. About three walls survived whatever destroyed everything else – reddish, sandy pillars cascading in linear ruins overgrown with a wild green, hugged by a frothy river. The road curved to a bus stop and I waited there in the sun. Tons of buses passed by, men swinging by their open doors shouting destinations like superfast spoken word poems –Chillogallo Quitumbe Eugenio Espejo La Mayorista El Trebol todo el Colon; they stop and start with the coming and going of clients leaving great black clouds and whirlwinds of dust in their wake, all of Quito a terminal, the following stops all foreign; titles of books not yet read.
Planning on moving to Montreal by the end of the year. Any help (in the form of free room and board preferred – joking! kind of) would be appreciated! Already I’m thinking how – let’s use the word, ‘unwise’ – it would be to move to Montreal in the dead of