After waking up on the hard floor of JFK airport to the hustle and bustle of early morning travelers, we wearily crept on to the final flight of our journey. We were looking for an adventure. Our plan was to fly to California and drive up Highway 1 along the majestic Central Coast.
There was something calming about the chaos. Something about the piercing electric guitar cutting through the burning ropes around us; the primal cries from the man in green as he scaled his stone tower.
For those of us that live in or hail from the United States, Hawaii might not be the most exotic of destinations — that is, for an island situated in the middle of the world’s largest ocean, thousands of miles away from the contiguous USA.
For too many people, happiness is a fleeting construct. We gain a glimmer of hope when a big life milestone is surmounted — a promotion, a new relationship, mastering a new craft — but eventually, the newness of these achievements fade.
One of the best things about Costa Rica is that everything you hear about it, is true — in one way or another.
I was once again in my hometown, a place of greying skies and infinite rows of symmetrical brick housing. Far from the reaches of open space, and mother nature’s extraordinary power.
I moved to the Caribbean on a whim. When I say whim, I really mean via the inspiration of Tom Cruise in Cocktail and a half drunk one way flight purchase.
