Archives for category: Portugal


One late evening in Madrid’s Huertas neighborhood, three twenty-somethings spooned fro-yo dinners into their faces while they discussed the current state of the world. As visitors and new and fast friends from Istanbul, Lyon (hi Pelin, hi Tiffany!), San Diego we wondered if there was any one place that is completely safe.

In the weeks before I boarded an Air New Zealand flight bound for Europe, news broke of the Brussels attack. Shortly before that, Paris was under fire. And the terrible news hasn’t let up.

Days after my return, Orlando seized the spotlight. Most recently, my newsfeed has been filled with an outpouring of prayers for Turkey, Dallas, Baton Rouge, the list goes on. Hearts break, communities grieve, the living react with anger, anxiety, the list goes on.

Fear is a natural reaction. Flights are cancelled, destinations crossed off bucket lists; both logical decisions following news of conflict. Internally, we build walls to fortify ourselves from the chaos “over there.”

Life can be so arbitrary sometimes, and on introspective days I think about how much control we really have over our days and why bad, unfair things happen in this world to really good people.

In times of conflict, what do we do?

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In spite of recent tragedies at home and abroad, widely covered by the media or not, travel is more important than ever. The fear and apprehension that follows after such senseless acts is understandable. However, I hope this does not build a wall within people so high that it blocks the inspiring truths that lie beyond our comfort zones.

The world is big, though there is no room for hate. I plan to share a longer post on this topic next week. In the meantime, trust that there is more good and wonder in this world, like the following roundup of posts on :


One of Lisbon’s many stoned stairways

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Weekend Reads is an almost-weekly series on The Curious Passport and features a round-up of travel news, features and other related links (probably related to food, fitness or the outdoors) I’ve either found around the internet or has been sent my way by friends and family.


“Google Maps lies,” said reception as I peeled off my Tortuga backpack in the colorful lobby of my Lisbon hostel. I fanned myself with my hands, back drenched, bare faced and recovering from a curse-inducing, hamstring-burning trudge up the Ascensor da Glória. It’s only a 10 minute walk from Restauradores to The Independente, it said. Easy.

Not so. With a month’s worth of added pounds on my back, the trek up one of Lisbon’s most Instagram-worthy hills seemed to stretch on. At that moment, the cute trolley (or funicular, as they say) that will ease you to the top as you spill out onto the Miradouro de São Pedro de Alcântara was not so quaint and dreamy.

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