A Way To End All Days

I love sunsets.

My best friend Cecil can definitely attest to this. We have experienced many a setting sun together (and an equal amount of sunrises also) in a few different countries. The sunsets with Cecil I will always remember are the Taj Mahal in India, on the beaches in Koh Samet and Pattaya, Thailand, at Yosemite National Park with our dogs, on the ferry from Sausalito with the Golden Gate between us and the sun and all the ones from our race across northern India in the Rickshaw Run. Other memorable sunsets for me were in Bali on the beach, Lombok watching the sunset drop into the crater of a volcano making it seem as if it were erupting, at the Shangri-La Resort in Boracay, the beach in Arrifana, Portugal, and the Icelandic Horse sunset in Iceland. Not to mention countless ones in Santa Monica and Chicago where I resided over the past 19 years (see my photos from sunsets around the world here). The most beautiful one I have witnessed occurred two months ago in Granada, Spain, and you can read that blog post here

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A Moroccan Cave Kind Of Day! 

Two weekends ago I was invited to travel south of Agadir for a gathering at a cave home. I had seen lived in caves along the rocky cliffs north of Taghazout where fisherman, daily, meander down to the shore line to cast their lines. But I never realized that there are regular people who purchase these caves and redevelop them into a home or weekend home. Some more elaborate and larger than others. Our friend, Gorka, had purchased one in Doura to redevelop and serve as his weekend home. He was very kind to open it up to a large group of us, many seeing it for the first time.

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The Sun May Set Over Granada, But The Memories Light My Journey

The morning started like most all others have the past four months. Hostel rooms seem designed for vampires and my reluctance to get out of bed is powerful each morning. Light barely creeps in and with the cool weather and no heat in the room, your desire to stay warm and cozy usually wins out. But knowing I was needing to be in the queue at the Palace of the Alhambra by 09:00 and still needing to book a flight or train to my next destination, I was out of bed by 06:45. Taking a seat on the couch in the reception area and powering up my Dell laptop I quickly, but thoughtfully, planned my next adventure’s locale. I honestly did not yet know where I would go next in Spain. Looking at prices for transportation and weather reports I had made up my mind. Destination? Barcelona!

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Seattle, I’m Still Alive! I Am Mine.

“If nothing is everything, I’ll have it all.” (Gone)
– Eddie Vedder (Pearl Jam)

The journey home to Los Angeles on the railroad tracks began in Vancouver at 6:30 AM. While the first leg to Seattle only occupied 4 hours of time, it occupied 25 years of total recall commencing when I was 17 & 18 years old. Epic guitar riffs and soul connecting lyrics played in my head. As the passing scene politely waved its ‘welcome’ hand and at the same time said its goodbye, tracks of a different kind hummed nostalgically. Life altering events flashed. Reconciling memories from concerts attended in rain, in arenas and stadiums across the US. to the sole reason I picked up an acoustic and learned guitar when I was in college. For me it began in Atlanta, it really all began right here. In Seattle’s sound. One band.

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So Long Vancouver, But It’s Not Goodbye

My week in Vancouver was spent with a persistent cough, congestion, a sore throat and very little sunshine to speak of. “This is Vancouver this time of year,” I heard repeatedly. I chose Vancouver knowing it would likely be this way when I scheduled my trip. Wet, cool and breezy. It was my immersion into a wonderful city. Like my moving to Chicago the first weekend of February 1999, I fell in love with the charm of the city. I appreciated everything it was at the very moment the soles of my feet hit the ground and my skin was exposed to the sub zero wind chill and damp, cold air.

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