Dr Jon

Cay Caulker and the Northern Reef Don't barf first. Don't barf first... This was my mantra as our dive boat flew over eight foot waves, then crashed into the troughs between with bone jarring slaps. My spine felt like an accordion. Debra and I were en route to the Great Blue Hole, a deep underwater sink hole made famous when Jacques Cousteau declared it to be among the top ten scuba diving sites in the world. My wish was granted. I didn't barf first or even at all. We arrived at the Blue Hole, strapped on our tanks, and one at a time giant-stepped off the back of the boat. But when I hit the choppy water, I found myself gasping for air. I was reluctant to submerge for fear that I ... read more

"Don't answer the door if anyone knocks," warned Niki, our spacey 20-something landlady for the next few days. This was my first experience with AirBnB, the web service that allows anyone to turn their spare room into a Bed and Breakfast. I got the impression that Niki had a few bill collectors on her tail and consequently didn't open doors or shutters. "And if anyone in the building asks who you are, just tell them you are friends of Niki, and pphhhtttt!" She gestured as though the nosey neighbor problem would be out with the trash. Niki's flat is in the upscale Kolonaki neighborhood of Athens. She shares her locked-front-door apartment building with doctors and lawyers who no doubt would be dismayed to know that she is renting her apartment to strangers. Niki had been curiously ... read more

In the Abode of Devils "Emotions don't feel very important when you're struggling against an awesome wilderness. A mountaineer leaves his friend trapped at the bottom of a crevasse without tears, guilt, or regret. Out here the indifference of nature to the life of a man is palpable, understood, part of the bargain the mountaineer makes each time he sets off for the mountains." I nervously glanced around for crevasses as I nodded consent to Rene's observation. On several occasions I too have been struck by a profound sense of insignificance while hiking in the Alps, no less so than today. Rene is a poet, playwright, actor, and director. He's also an English professor and a vice dean at UNIL (University of Lausanne). After graduating from Hollywood High, he and his pal (also my pal,) S ... read more

Busses, cars, and trucks squeeze through the narrow streets of Merida. Fumes and dust turn my clothes gray. Narrow sidewalks are crowded with pedestrians playing chicken: who will be the one to give way by stepping off of the curb into the street? Ear splitting mariachi music blares out of cantinas, sometimes wafting into the doors of an opposing cathedral, where it blends with choir music creating an unholy cacophony. Jerry and I step into the courtyard of Dolores Alba, our colonial-era hotel, and with one step we pass from chaos to serenity. Although partially covered, birds fly in and out. Reproductions of some of Frida Khola's more disturbing paintings hang on the walls. Everyone gathers in a cluster of rocking chairs in one corner of the courtyard where wifi is available. Over skype a woman ... read more

Night three; my first night in a real bed; my first night on dry land. Three giant cruise ships pulled out of Skagway as our humble ferry pulled in. I could almost hear the citizens of Skagway collectively groan: You again? It must be like having your poor relatives show up while you're still counting the loot your rich uncle left behind. I had to tramp through town in the dark to get to my hostel. Skagway looks charming: wooden sidewalks, noisy saloons, assaying offices. I can't imagine what it's like with 9000 tourists wearing I've been to Disneyland T-shirts crowding its streets. I rented a little cabin behind the hostel for a couple of nights. Over the phone it sounded cool. Just before she hung up, though, Janylin, the proprietress referred to it as the ... read more