I gave the taxi driver a $20. He looked at me in disappointment. I'd arrived in Cahuita, Costa Rica, poorer than I’d expected. Having to chase a bus down with a taxi from Limón put …

“So when do you think you’ll be in Portland?” Aaron asked, as we drove through forested mountains. “Give us an hour.” When Aaron called, we were on Highway 26 heading toward Portland. My friend had …

I parked and walked into John’s River Lodge. It’s populated by the graying, the retired and plump. I’d just surfed Westport, and wanted a place to wet my whistle. I ordered a PBR and sat …

“Hey! It’s a red light!” I screamed as Sarah drove into the intersection. “Sorry, I really can’t drive and talk at the same time,” she said, “I’m on antidepressants.” At the next light I gestured …

The train screeched and jerked to a stop. I awoke in an unknown yard in pitch darkness. I hopped on this train back in Everett, Washington, where the day before I was napping in a …

Pocatello was the end of the line. I needed to get off. I looked around for an exit – a string of fluorescent light cut the darkness and exposed my cover. I didn’t see any …

The boat ride to Santa Cruz, Guatemala, was cold. The wind blew fervently as the boat hit rough patches, splashing swaths of freezing water on the passengers seated in front. Lake Atitlan is very windy. …

The bus rolled into the Seattle Greyhound station. I can’t explain my excitement in getting off that bus. The passengers in front of me showed the highs and lows of riding the “dirty dog” – …

Adam and I drove into Seaside with a mission: to surf and sample the fried arts at Beach Bites. We'd stopped here on our way to Portland. Just 90 miles away, it was close enough …

I walked into Hopkins with a guitar in my hand, backpack hanging off my shoulders, and my mouth parched as sweat poured down my face. I felt lightheaded. I needed a drink. I walked two …

Henderson in Nevada, Sunset Station, Punk, Bowling, Pabst Blue Ribbon. What’s the connection? Three words. Punk Rock Bowling – a weekend of raucous and drunken activities having something to do with bowling and music. Normally, …

A 12-hour layover in Miami isn’t anybody’s idea of a bad time. I arrived from Chicago O’Hare so early, I couldn’t even check my bag. Transforming an inconvenience into an opportunity, I began to search …

When Pablo told me to go to Luján with him, I was not excited – and sadly mistaken. I expected a desiccated religious tour, not a culinary adventure into the heart of Argentine cuisine. My …

I’d heard about Buenos Aires in the spring, but I was apprehensive about the winter. I packed my bags like I was getting ready to go snowboarding. Jackets, thermals and beanies. It being July and …

I’ve been restraining an emotionally disturbed teenager for an hour. It’s midnight and I’m sore. All I can hear are feral screams. According to the usual platitudes, college should be the gateway to more money …

On February 14, Horton Plaza became a flurry of pillows as 40 people gathered at the fountain to participate in the first annual Valentine's Pillow Fight. "It's intense. I couldn't tell who was hitting me," …

City Heights pulsed with purpose on January 16, when the San Diego Free Skool, a local activist collective, threw a benefit for a struggling Tijuana nongovernmental organization. “CITTAC (El Centro de Información para Trabajadoras y …