“Best of all he loved the fall.” — Ernest Hemingway I’m sure I’ve highlighted that line from Papa in this space before, but I don’t feel like looking for it to make sure. I’m sitting in a Panera while my car gets worked on at the Midas just up the street, and the wifi connection here is just too slow to sift through. Suffice it to say that I’m also sure I’ve used that line and then told you not…
Sitting in the lobby of the City Centre Hotel in Reykjavik. It’s midnight on a Friday and the scene up and down the street outside is, to put it bluntly, rockin’. Alas, I have an 8am flight to catch so I’m behaving: a couple of pints of Guinness and now I’m getting ready to turn in. This town really is incredible: small enough to be digested in short order; interesting enough to keep someone busy for a very long time….
An Anchorage limosine People who live in Anchorage are used to being the butt of jokes made by those who consider themselves “real” Alaskans. You’ve heard the dings (“Anchorage isn’t Alaska…but you can see it from there”) and the derogatory nicknames (“Anchoragua”) and so on, but here’s the thing: Anchorage enables those who love it to have their cake and eat it too. No, Anchorage is not the fulfillment of some Hollywood-cliche Alaskana — we residents (what ARE we called?…