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Tribes

It’s happy hour at a beachside restaurant and I am drinking a spectacular Margarita, chatting with Irene. She sticks out in this beach town; late thirties, fleshy belly and bikini top with a leather skirt, and a low-slung army belt with lots of ammunition pouches. She has a tattoo that covers half her back and a sunny disposition. Irene and her pal are in Montezuma ‘following the festival circuit’. The party was at their place last night and tonight some guy with a manison up the hill is hosting. She talks about Burning Man and describes how everyone in her small northern Californian town is “highly conscious”. It occurs to me that no one I meet here has kids. Might parenting make one less a

Fear, A little Risk

When I was 20 I travelled for six months; West Africa, India, Thailand, Malaysia. 26 years later, with a family van and some soccer mom years under my belt, I find myself hiking alone up the waterfall in Montezuma, Costa Rica. I passed the “Don’t go alone. Flash floods!” sign. A very skinny 70 year old New Yorker (who hadn’t ventured the hike) had earlier assured me it was too dry for floods. She must know. Half way up the mountain I find a stunning waterfall and a clear pool, a cluster of tourists swimming. I took my dusty shoes off and sat with Tiffany from Orillia whom I had met on the beach earlier in the day. Tiffany had very white teeth—a typical, tanned and leggy Montezuma yoga touris

Miami 150 Flyer bus to South Beach

On my solo trip to Costa Rica, because of a storm in Dallas, I ended up spending 18 hours in Miami. Flying into the city I saw for the first time a vast swath of city, canals or reservoirs, precariously set two inches above sea level. I decided to fill my time by taking the $2 “Flyer” bus to South Beach. Standing in the crowded bus I chatted with a seated 70 year old pink button down New Yorker/Miami resident. I asked him if he had any places he and his daughter? (nope, girlfriend) recommended in South Beach. In a loud, but friendly voice he asks, “Well are you GAY?”. He gave me a kind of psychic whiplash and perhaps better understood how my British relatives might experience me. Careening a

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