My mother had a felicitous addiction to used books, picking up hundreds of musty volumes from various Midwestern fairs during my childhood. One gloomy autumn day I stumbled across several of Richard Halliburton’s semi-autobiographical travelogues while shelving her latest finds. A few black and white photos, and an exotic story about the Taj Mahal, and I was hooked on the handsome thrill-seeking travel guru of the Twenties and Thirties.
Despite my less glorious experiences in modern travel, I remain addicted to the pleasures of different cultures, food, languages, architecture, climates and people. As a result I am able to offer you a healthy dose of practical travel advice, the odd tidbit of exotic locations for inspiration, updates on settling into our new home in Tucson, and a sprinkling of snark.