Tag: Friends
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TRAVELS WITH JOHN
Facebook today has reacquainted me with a long lost friend and travelling companion. In 1978, I stumbled into a losmen (guestroom) on Samosir Island in northern Sumatra. I saw this seasoned traveller there – a skinny, long haired bearded man wearing Coke bottle bottom glasses and eating porridge and bananas. John Ducedre was a Canadian and we hit it off perfectly and explored the island together. Eight months later, John showed up at my house in northern Wisconsin driving a beat up van and offered me a ride to Banff. I…
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ON! ON!
When I think of happier days in Syria, nothing brings a bigger smile to my face than memories of the Halab Hash House Harriers. I first ran a Hash House Harrier event on the east coast of Malaysia in 1978. I was in a little village and saw signs with HHH so I followed them and soon found a group of Brits, Malays and others loosening up. They invited me to join them on their run. It was the most chaotic run I had ever done. There was no set path.…
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CARPETS BUT NO ARK
In June 1991, my mates Heiko Schnell and Ben and Sharon Timmerman and I drove from Aleppo, Syria to the NE corner of Turkey where it borders Armenia and Iran. Our destination was Mt Ararat. We didn’t find the ark but found this carpet/kilim/soumak vendor along some quiet road with a view to Ararat. I had a hard time passing carpet vendors in those days. I don’t believe we bought anything from this gentleman partly because we had just bought carpets the day before and I already had a soumak very…
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ON THE CORNER IN WINSLOW
I was standing on the corner in Winslow, Arizona. Seriously, I was! I had just finished watching the 1984 Olympics in Los Angeles and got off the train in Winslow. My Peace Corps mate, Denny Hildreth, lived in Winslow and worked for the US Forest Service. He was no girl in a flatbed Ford slowin’ down to take a look at me … but I took the ride regardless. My college buddy, Jerome Welnetz, came from Galveston to join us. Jerome had visited me in Costa Rica and Denny, Jerome and…
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SELVA LACANDONA – NO PLACE FOR A GRINGO
Day 1 – 28 March 1981Lagos de Montebello to Huistan on the Rio Delores They were the best tortilla I had ever eaten. Made of freshly ground corn, they were thick, yet not tough and still warm. I folded one and used it as a spoon to scoop up the scrambled eggs served in a bowl of hot water with onions and tomatoes. An Indian man and his son silently sat on a stool, shelling beans, and watched my companion, Hans, and me clumsily try to use the tortillas as spoons.…
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