Two women in very tight tops and very short shorts appear in silhouette - backlit by the halogen of a gas station canopy.
Politically moderate. Mildly adventurous. Always thinking (but not too hard). The Upstairs Project is Chris Congdon's blog.
All in travel
Two women in very tight tops and very short shorts appear in silhouette - backlit by the halogen of a gas station canopy.
It’s an unnatural thing to do - to walk right up to the edge, and then take one more step.
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I’m running for my life in Selma, Alabama. I’m not walking kinda fast for my life, and I’m not jogging for my life - I’m running for my life in Selma, Alabama
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Badly framed and poorly focused, shot from the window of a moving bus, I’m not likely to forget the fleeting glimpse, imprinted in my mind, of those people about to lose everything.
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It's eerie at first – the amplified rising and falling of pitch. A human voice? A human voice.
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I don’t even see a church, a cemetery or a tavern, so I can only conclude that the place is free from sin and death. That, by definition, would make it heaven.
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‘the hell happened here?
Ask it as a question or just state the obvious.
The hell happened here.
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I feel extra-masculine manhandling barbed wire, driving my Dodge through waist-high weeds and stepping in cow shit. Those are the kinds of things us city boys only get to do in our imaginations as we’re watching truck ads on TV. I hope MSL notices how broad my shoulders are.
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The minivan was making an odd thumping noise. I was glad it wasn’t mine and felt sorry for whoever owned it. A tow truck was going to be expensive this far from town.
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I climbed into the same Chevy Suburban that my wife had disappeared in an hour earlier. We turned onto a dirt road directly behind the convenience store and climbed a steep hill.
When the tourists spotted her and realized what they were looking at, they’d stop and point and talk to each other in German, Hindi, Korean and Arabic. It’s a poignant moment when you see people of other nationalities react that way.
The crowd at the counter spills out the door and into the street making it nearly impossible to get in or out, but with their mix of English banter and Italian insults, the red shirts keep the line moving so nobody has to wait very long.
Neither of us spoke the other’s language, but she held my hand the way they do when they’re saying something important and they want you to get it.
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The sun is melting me into the deck. I feel remote, dreamy, relaxed and free - I could be perfectly content riding this boat all day.
as our airplane approached Abuja, I could see out the window that we were about to land in a place very different from where I come from. I had never been to Africa before. I was really excited, and more than a little afraid.
He had gone a few miles on the rugged dirt road when his phone chimed. He stopped, read the text from Kat. “HELP” was what it said.
Ruth hands me a peach and rushes to get a second one. She comes back with sparkling eyes, "this one will be good", she says. She must be deranged.