Not the city that never sleeps (it does), maybe it's the city that's never still. Built on the water, Venice sloshes, splashes, seems to breathe. Venice is sinking. Venice has always been improbable.

my year(s) teaching English in France
Not the city that never sleeps (it does), maybe it's the city that's never still. Built on the water, Venice sloshes, splashes, seems to breathe. Venice is sinking. Venice has always been improbable.
In my last full day on the Ligurian coast, I found myself far from the crowds, in a village one could reasonably conclude was populated only by renderings of the Madonna and electric green lizards like flashes of light. Maybe it's Cinque Terre, maybe it's Italy, maybe it's luck, but my time here has brought a …
The Leaning Tower of Pisa: sweet little underdog with a quirk no one could correct. There's a lesson in there somewhere.
I'd rather not think about how little sleep I've gotten in the last few days. But as my lids lower–once again–of their own volition, it's getting hard to ignore. I've been turning in at a decent hour, but like a little girl stuck in the cheerful purgatory of the night before Christmas, I've been finding …
Continue reading travel notebook: (not so) alone in italia, day three
I am in a BlaBlaCar, sitting snugly in the backseat behind two French ladies also on their way to visit Cinque Terre. I met them at a roundabout in Mandelieu–just south of Cannes and the 'world capital' of the mimosa flower. Sitting on a patch of sidewalk just out of traffic, I felt more like …
We love to glamorize the wealthy and dead, as if fine clothes and cakes work to redeem suffering.
Monaco is home of the eponymous Grand Prix, the belle-époque Monte Carlo casino, scores of luxury yachts, and–let's not forget– actual royalty. Despite the evident glamour, I've always found a visit to the second-smallest country in the world surprisingly low-key. It's the natural beauty that catches my eye: the hardy Mediterranean flowers and cacti clinging …