Tag: Travel

Listen: Do What You Crave Without the Guilt. Travel to Italy. Enroll in That Workshop. Make Your Art Every Afternoon. And Hurl Yourself Into the Unknown—For This Is The Best ROI That Money Can Buy.

My almost-mother-in-law gets really fucking nervous when I travel—especially when I bomb off to South America for a month by myself to drink ALL THE WINE and celebrate ALL THE BOOK DEALS. But she doesn’t get worried in the typical way a mother might; not the way my own mother would have been worried, which would have sounded something like: “Oh Jesus Mary and Joseph, Ashley, you think they won’t kidnap you and rape you and leave you for dead?

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Bake a Cake and Shut Your Mouth: Or, How to Be Unhappy, Unfulfilled, and a Martyr to Your Own Life

I am a fickle bitch, and it’s one of my greatest qualities. In fact, I wish the word “fickle” were more attractive—it sounds too much like “pickle,” and one time in college I read a book called “Tickle His Pickle,” so I think it’s clear that (a) I am a true academic, and (b) Using the word “fickle” makes my mind wander. But if the word weren’t so ugly, I’d use it to describe myself all the time. Fickle (adj):

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Welp, Finland’s #1 AGAIN for World Happiness, Those Clever Bastards—Here’s Why

Happiness is an elusive little shit. This is why, when the annual United Nations World Happiness Report comes out each year, I rip that thing open with my fangs. (Note to self: say”fangs” more often.) The report lists, in perfect sequential order, the happiest countries in the world down to the least happy countries in the world—in other words, the most miserable victims on the planet—and then tells you a whole bunch of sciencey-stuff about how they came to that

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“It’s Too Dangerous to Travel.” (And Other Hard Conversations I Had While Driving Through Rural America.)

“It’s too dangerous.” Three little words I kept hearing over and over again when I visited the United States this fall. At dinner tables from Boston to Philadelphia, and everywhere in between—specifically many rural towns, as I was in search of autumn—we would talk about where I live in Costa Rica. How I had spent the summer in London. How I had married two of my best friends in Mexico. How I had lived in Chile, all those years, and

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“I Wish I Could Travel the World Like You”

“I wish I could travel the world like you.” It was a comment left on a recent Facebook post, and admittedly, a comment I get often—but not one I like to receive. It depresses me, more than anything, how powerless most Westerners feel over their own lives. Anything is possible, in modern Western society, and yet, there’s a widespread perception that nothing is. I know you’ve got kids. And I know you’ve got a job. And I know you’ve got

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I Brought 20 Hookers to Central America on Business.

I sloshed on yet another layer of gloss, steering frantically with one hand while trying not to rear end a truck full of cows. I mean, what would I tell the Life Hooky group? “We didn’t pick you up at the airport in San Jose because, see, there were these cowsssssss.” Even I would think I was making it up. And the only time I make anything up is when the chicken is overcooked, because what kind of person actually

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The World’s Most Unscholarly Summary of Quito, Ecuador, Ever. (Oh, and Photos.)

Like: Cobblestone Dislike: Heels + hot coffee + cobblestone (oops) – Like: Free wifi in every plaza Dislike: Thinking I should work in cafes in every plaza, and then getting hopelessly distracted by shirtless soccer players on TV (oops again) – Like: The equator Dislike: Forgetting the bottle of wine to drink ON THE EQUATOR – Like: Kissing Dislike: Kissing Ecuadorian men I, ahem, shouldn’t – Like: Safety Dislike: Car alarms that make me want to hurl myself out a

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Potty Mouth Ambirge Strikes Again: Reporting Live From Costa Rica, Hot Poker In Hand.

So this past week, I took a motherfucking vacation. And do you know what? I’m going to take vacations all the time! It’s been decided! Vacations are just way too great to not take! Why aren’t people vacationing all the time? I hereby declare every last week of the month vacation week. Not only do you get to drink (obnoxious amounts of ) fruity umbrella drinks without an ounce of guilt, you also get to do cool things like burn

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Paris, Wankers + Marketing for Local Business Owners

So, I’m on a plane. I may or may not be drinking French wine from a miniature bottle that could really be bigger for seven dollars, but I mean, who’s really measuring? Don’t judge. I figure that between having never tried cigarettes, and having stuck up for the nerdy girl that one time in the 5th grade, I’ve earned it. I deserve this bottle of wine in all its little man syndrome glory. (I also propose that I deserve indulgent

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Argentina + An 11 Year Old Boy + Greatest Business Asset of All

“Good afternoon, ma’am!” he cheerfully exclaims. I look up from my menu at the outdoor cafe, and I’m greeted by the eager, smiling face of a young boy. One of his front teeth is noticeably chipped in half, but that doesn’t stop him from beaming with uninhibited enthusiasm as he carefully lays down 5 sheets of Hello Kitty stickers to the side of my placemat without permission. Before I can say anything, he takes the lead: “My, your hair color

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