Last October, a journalist in Malta was killed by car bomb. Last December, I went to Malta and took too many selfies. Oh, and did you hear about this election?
Some love letters as novelty wears off and culture shock sets in. (Inspired by that very good Netflix movie that you should definitely watch.)
You're never too old to learn some new tricks.
I didn't really know what to expect coming into China. People will tell you so many different contradictory things--half of them vague observations, half of them lazy racist stereotypes. I've been here for almost a month now, and I'm still not quite sure what to make of it.
Nothing makes you realize the weird quirks of your own culture quite like a country where you all speak the same language, yet somehow don't.
Not with a bang but with a whimper, so to speak. And a strange twist.
When does a story go from fact to fiction? From recollection to memory to myth?