essays by shé

bookshelf

Tag: travel

  • Grace

    There are moments of grace and beauty. Blowing bubbles with Antonella was one of them. Let me set the scene: a church group sings nearby of peace and love and liberty; the sun is setting big and orange and low; for the first time in México, the tiny house is unhitched and plugged in; and…

  • Napping Near the Military

    Returning to the States to sign documents, I pulled off the highway to rest, engaging four-wheel-drive. The great thing about México is that you can follow a dirt road as the whim strikes. Many times they lead to interesting places. Sometimes not. I was tired and anxious, and found a spot behind some boulders and…

  • Jiggity-Jig

    Home again, home again, tiny house in tow, see how she flies! It’s been almost three and a half years since I inhabited my T@B travel trailer, and boy, did I miss her! So cheerful, so easy-going, so functional and fun. No more leaky tent. No more cramped back seat, feet hanging out the window.…

  • Bioluminescence

    Camped by Bahía Concepción under a fullish moon, I rinse my hands in the water and sparks fly. Delight! Skimming handfuls of sand across the surface elicits underwater fireworks. Bioluminescence. Years ago in Florida, I noticed the same phenomenon. So I stripped and dove into the Atlantic. Every stroke was a miracle, light streaming from…

  • Directions

    “Turn left at the field of basil.” “Tom’s house is just past the one with the fake lighthouse in the front yard.” “The surf shop is around the corner from the mini mart with the shaka mural.” Time and again friendly folk have given me detailed directions better than any Google map. Yeah, I take…

  • Baja Boots

    I stopped in San Bartolo to look for a hat. I’d left my Hawaiian lifeguard topper (made in Mexico) on Kaua’i — traveling light. “No sombreros, lo siento,” said the vendor. But what’s this? Boots. Two pair in a plastic bag, leaning against the brick wall. The woman brought me a chair and I tried…

  • Baja Bound

    “I’ll give you a hundred bucks to drive my truck onto the Young Brothers lot,” says the weathered guy outside the port gate. I’d just dropped off my 4Runner for shipping to San Diego. He claims he doesn’t have proper ID for security, and wants to get his (also weathered) vehicle on the barge to…