Why I Take the Long Way
A small case for the slower train, the missed connection, and the afternoons you can't plan — written on a platform I had no good reason to be standing on.
The Guesthouse That Quietly Ruined Hotels for Me
It had four rooms, no front desk, and a host who treated me like a returning relative. Years of nice hotels later, it's still the place I measure everything against.
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I write about places I've gone out of my way to reach, and the stuff I carry to get there. No sponsorships, no courses, no town called “undiscovered” with a tour bus parked outside.