Tag archives for andrew evans

Going Home

I was born in Texas. It was the Seventies, Gerald Ford was president, and my father worked for an oil company. Beyond the distinct toddler memory of my crawling on the brown shag carpeting of our Houston home, I remember nothing of my birthplace. I remember leaving, though. Our family piled into our big Dodge…

Ruaha National Park

Dear @GioPalatucci, I write you from the very dry heart of Tanzania where the ground is very brown, the grass is lion-colored and the trees look like they could all use a bit of water. I tell you Gio, it is everything you imagine Africa to be: forever skies with evasive clouds, the hot, hot…

Mad, Mad Marrakech #RTW

It takes nearly six hours to fly across the Sahara Desert — —about the same distance it takes to fly across the United States. Indeed, the biggest desert in the world is as wide as the continental U.S., and from high up in the sky, I was able to take in the sea of sand…

Honk If You Love India #RTW

From the air, India is an immense puzzle— –a hazy puzzle of dusted field and clustered village, with broken beige roads like sun-bleached branches on a dead tree. Down below, pixelated city blocks resemble the square doodles I draw and fill in mindlessly when I am back at home, sitting on hold and waiting for…

The ULTIMATE Travel Contest

Every day I get about fifty comments/messages/e-mails in which readers ask me if they can have my job and my short answer is, “Yes, you can.” At least . . . you can do what I do, which is to travel and share your story with the world. Long before I was christened Digital Nomad…

Ode to a Swiss Cow

Your kind face makes me stop, Your eyelashes so arresting That from my bike, I hop. Rip clumps of grass in offering.   You inquire with a wiggly nose With careful lips you chomp On lavender and wild rose Then take a perfumed dump.   The slanted fields of Switzerland Demand a steady foot. How…

Learning Swiss

There is no such thing as the Swiss Dictionary. I know because I’ve been searching for one ever since I began plotting my trip to Europe’s little landlocked country in the middle. Yes, there are a few Swiss German dictionaries in print and even one half-baked Swiss German app that I downloaded for 99 cents,…

HOME

I live here. That’s what I tell myself as I walk the square and triangle blocks of America’s capital city: this is where I live. This is where I have an address and where I have plants that need watering. I know folks on the street and they know me. I live here and recognize…

Licking a Glacier

Glaciers taste good, as I discovered in Norway. When it’s 85°F outside and you’ve been hiking for an hour, a big mouthful of ancient icepack tastes better than any Slurpee ever could. The diamond, sparkling ice is cold, wet, clean, and delicious–not to mention endless and all-U-can-eat. (Almost.) My journey through Norway continues to be…

My Cape Town Favorites

Travel is such a personal thing: one man’s art museum is another man’s prison. Personally, I can feel highly entertained just browsing in a bookstore (though if you want to kill me with boredom, plop me in the middle of a golf course.) This is precisely why I shy away from instructing readers what to…