The thing with Corsica, though, is that it’s so goddamn beautiful that it doesn’t really matter where you are. The bottles of wine it makes advertise themselves as being produced in the île de Beauté, I mean come on. So I docked in at Propriano at 6am or so and headed for the nearest campsite thinking, if there’s a spanner in the works of my … Continue reading îles de Beauté
Well and so. The first day is in some ways the easiest, and in others one of the hardest. Leaving the comforts of home behind – and I really had been luxuriating among them, during those last few days – has its drawbacks. Goodbye, massive bed. Goodbye sofa. Farewell television and movie time, with a soupçon of whiskey if you’re in the mood. Goodbye, sweet … Continue reading I Probably Was An Idiot
Almost but not quite shielded from view by the rays of sunlight reflected by the glassy sea, the woman in pink bent over and stroked the chest of her man under his blue Berghaus T-shirt, neck bent double, his jaw, in profile, showing just softly the movements of his tongue, and of the closing, opening, closing of the space in between the insides of their … Continue reading A Day at the Beach
Purple-yellow, richly rising miniature colossus;red isle bursting, bathed in wine and fish. Fish for days,fish for supper. Fir trees arched to horizontal,blown by lurching sea winds, tugged by the rootbut holding fast. Bonaparte’s birthplace, thistles thick as fists,islet torn apart in recent years: assassination;two decades behind bars; a taste of freedom. Fish and wine.Messages sprayed in black on roadside barriers and walls,threats, perhaps, or warnings—rousse … Continue reading Blood red rock / Statu Frances assassinu
The way through and out of Cebu was all billows of exhausts and screaming hot sun. Then it was blistering heat, children and adults enjoying the novelty of a foreigner on a bicycle foolishly working his way across the country during the day’s middle hours, and fresh coconuts eaten by the roadside. I stopped once for carabao milk on the way to Moalboal, and played … Continue reading The way to Osmeña Peak
Ishmael, or ‘Miss L’, aka ‘Madame Elle’, is an performer from Caloocan hoping one day to make onto the European entertainment circuit, possibly by way of international cruise ships operating in the Indo-Pacific region. Apparently, there is money to be made as an entertainer in hotels in and around Metro Manila, but for obvious historical reasons, Europe represents something of a step up. For the … Continue reading Call him, or her, Ishmael
To get on the Manila–Cebu City ferry from Makati City, first you must negotiate your way through the bustle and grime of some of the city’s busiest thoroughfares en route to Manila’s North Harbour Pier 4. Philippine political and corporate history will call up to you from the asphalt: Ayala Ave owes its name to the country’s largest asset holder, Ayala Corporation, whose namesake is … Continue reading The First Cut is the Deepest
A culture of repair is a necessary precursor to material change, and every purchase is a vote: here’s why you should mend your clothes. Continue reading The Paradox of Shopping Responsibly: Why you should mend your clothes
Of course, the BLM movement has roots in decades – centuries – of Black protest. But in the 1950s, protestors unified their efforts towards enacting policy change. Continue reading What is the point of protest if it doesn’t affect policy?
Nuclear waste is also a potential issue, but modern developments in waste management, and nuclear reactors, provide promising evidence that this may be a problem of the past. Continue reading The Reactor in the Room: Time for Nuclear Power?
ONURBICYCLE 