Lifestyle
My days in Utah were fast and bright and hot. I arrived in Moab, Utah — a tiny town popular among climbers, backpackers, road trippers and other adventurists — after four long hours in my rented white Subaru.
It was December 2013 when I moved to Washington state. I drove for a week through snow, ice and powerful Wyoming winds that swept semi trucks clear off the highway.
Outdoors
I remember the first time I saw a snow-capped mountain. It was four years ago, and I was driving West with my then-boyfriend in my still-shiny red Acura. I had about $800 in my bank account and a job offer at a newspaper in Washington, a state I'd visited a quick 24 hours before saying yes to the job.
Nearly a year ago today, I found myself strolling along an asphalt road near the Pacific Ocean with one of my best friends. We had just emerged from a two-night backpacking trip along the Coastal Trail in California's Redwood National Park. Still in our hiking gear, we felt awkward in our bulky boots, which made more sense when we were trudging up slippery hills among fallen logs and thick shrubs. Walking along the road, we just looked like two tired vagabonds.
Where I grew up, the fall season is defined by crunchy leaves, colorful tree limbs and crisp, cool air. It's about buying gourds at nearby farms and welcoming a reprieve from thick humidity. Back home, fall is my favorite season.
Travel
I met Aree in the small restaurant she owned in Bangkok. I had just hopped out of a yellow-green taxi and rushed through the restaurant's doors, a burst of hot air trailing me. I smelled like sweat. Traveling for 23 hours will do that to you, and my deodorant was lost somewhere in the recesses of my carry on.
Dating a guy who lives in another country comes with a unique set of hurdles. Like meticulously planning weekly video calls to accommodate the time difference. Or having slow, simple conversations to ease the language barrier.
A month removed from my trip to Thailand, I'm still thinking about my time there. Mental images of orange sunsets flit in and out of my head. I daydream about the food. I think about Thai women cutting long noodles like ribbons before mixing them with wilted veggies and shrimp. I'd eat my bowl of pad thai on the beach. There, I'd listen to the waves and watch Thai men make beds of their longboats. I'd swat bugs from my legs and bury my feet in the cool part of the sand.
Most popular
For the past week, I've been living on the road. It's been nearly seven days of driving up and down Interstate 5, blasting political podcasts, eating dried mango by the bag and absorbing views of the Oregon and California coasts from my forever dust-sprinkled windows.
It was late last month when I decided to rethink how much time I spend online. After months of juggling freelance work and a full-time job, I began calculating just how many hours a day I spend on a computer. Too many. It can't all be avoided, of course. I work full time as a content manager and spend many of my "off" hours writing for other organizations and publications.
Editor's Picks
For the past week, I've been living on the road. It's been nearly seven days of driving up and down Interstate 5, blasting political podcasts, eating dried mango by the bag and absorbing views of the Oregon and California coasts from my forever dust-sprinkled windows.
I met Aree in the small restaurant she owned in Bangkok. I had just hopped out of a yellow-green taxi and rushed through the restaurant's doors, a burst of hot air trailing me. I smelled like sweat. Traveling for 23 hours will do that to you, and my deodorant was lost somewhere in the recesses of my carry on.
I’ve been a tad absent on the blog lately, and I have my recent move to thank for that.