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This time last year, I wrote a short piece about the hoops through which expats on the South Atlantic island of Saint Helena were forced to jump in order to watch Game of Thrones‘ fourth season. There, where cable television
You can see it from the Mule Yard, the only bar in Jamestown, Saint Helena, that happens to be open every day. It’s more prominent at low tide than high, a steering column jutting out of the water like the
I started Graham Greene’s The Quiet American in my room on Ho Chi Minh City’s Bùi Viện backpacker strip. I probably should have started it at the Hotel Continental, where Thomas Fowler first meets Alden Pyle, but the Continental is
Has it really been forty years since there wasn’t enough room on the last chopper out? The streets of Ho Chi Minh City are, if not exactly festooned, then at least rather heavily decorated with banners and other displays attesting
I had been loitering around some dreadlocked types, working up the courage to join the conversation, when the people smuggler sat down next to me. Actually, that might not be an entirely fair description: Lanh, which is not his real
“The Grand National,” I was told on the morning of Britain’s famous steeplechase, “is a forty-nag slaughter-circus.” This sounded like hyperbole to me. But my friend continued: “Be sure to place a bet.” “I don’t know anything about horses,” I
Driving from Melbourne, the Great Ocean Road comes to an end just short of Warrnambool. But for those who have a little more driving in them—or a lot more—there are plenty of reasons to push on. With its rugged coastline,
The car bomb sounded like a car backfiring. I heard it, dismissed it, and went back to sleep. It was only a few hours later, as I sat at the window of Erbil’s Hotel Merci, looking out over a two-story