The irony of the situation hit me all at once: After three years of talking at conferences, talking through trainings and speaking at meetings, I was being forced to do nothing but listen. That’s what happens when you find yourself on a bus through the Brazilian countryside with just a pack of…
Notes from Hotel Metropole, Belo Horizonte. Helicopters buzzing the city center at 1am. Both Belgium and Algeria national teams staying near, will get up for the early game having dreamt bleak dreams of Zero Dark Thirty. 5:30am, the walls are made of paper and the sounds of toilets flushing. Two women are having an intense, friendly, shouty conversation somewhere in the gloaming. A single voice calls out in perfect in accented American English: Shut. The. Fuck. Up. It worked. John Brooks may have been the hero of last night, but this unknown Yankee is the hero of the morning. Unfortunately, he is nowhere to be found when I am still trying to work at 6:30am and from all sides of me, Belgians wake up, brush their good teeth and yell into their mirrors: GO BELGIUM! GO BELGIUM! GO!
Flawless, as usual. DAMMIT YOU GUYS.
Love this feeling.
I really enjoyed this little story about a couple that hops around America in a small plane. I like hearing about the systems that exist - like these small airports and their operators and amenities - in areas of life I would never normally encounter.
“Rome says: enjoy me. London: survive me. New York: gimme all you got.”
Read Zadie Smith’s story from our Spring issue, now available in its entirety online.
“He gave the impression that very many cities had rubbed him smooth.”
The pool at the Grand Hotel del Paraguay is, best as I can tell, unused. Maybe it’s the heat—and the humidity—which are considerable and relentless. Or the lack of a bar, or towels, or staff. But nobody else…
Jesus CHRIST Bourdain! YES.
The best travel writing the internet has to offer!
I’ll read at least some of this later, but that photo is badass.
“Even though the city was often deserted, it felt crowded, like no one had ever left. The doorways and narrow streets were alive with shadowy figures and voices.”