Borderline The more I travel, the stranger the things are that begin to interest me. Once you’ve been to every country in the world, the usual scoreboard is pretty much broken. There’s nowhere left to color in on the map, no fresh little dopamine hit from saying, Country number 187. So apparently I’ve moved on…
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Marking my Territory After seeing every country in the world, you do two things—at least I do. One, you return to your favorites. Two, you chase the unknown. Recently, that meant Jersey and Guernsey which are island-territories belonging to the UK, Greenland under Denmark, and St. Pierre and Miquelon with France. There are a million more…
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Deja Vú I’d been to Chile once before—ten years back. Nice enough. Iquique had the sea, the sunshine, the breezy, sandblasted charm of a city that minds its own business. But I knew then, quietly and inconveniently, that I hadn’t scratched the surface. Santiago still waited. And now, en route to Antarctica from Punta Arenas—because…
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Breakdown 45 days. No sweets. No treats. Dropped 15 pounds and feeling smug as hell—until Milwaukee happened. More specifically, Leon’s Custard. A temple of temptation disguised as a roadside stand, lit up in enough neon to guide ships home in a storm. It broke me. Back to the Future Inside, it’s a postcard from 1956—soda…
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Algeria Calling I couldn’t wait to get back to Algeria after wrapping up the 193. Out of all the countries I’d visited, Algeria was one that stuck with me the most. Why? Because it was the first place to completely shatter a stereotype I didn’t even know I was carrying. I remember 2016 like it…
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St. Pierre is Miquelon’s older, louder sister. But before we go there—do yourself a favor and read the Miquelon entry first. Seriously. Otherwise, you’re missing the whole “drinking wine in France without leaving North America” magic. I won’t repeat myself. Go read it. I’ll wait. Now, after 24 hours soaking in the quiet charm of…
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You know what keeps me addicted to the road? After hitting all 193 countries—the entire UN roll call—you’d think the surprises would dry up. But no. There’s always some geopolitical curveball waiting to slap you in the face. Like this: France. In North America. And no, I don’t mean the usual Caribbean suspects—Martinique, Guadeloupe, Saint…
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Never thought I’d say this—and yeah, it still feels a little strange rolling off the tongue—but here we are: I’m Mexican. Officially. On December 16th, 2024, after a bureaucratic marathon of forms, fingerprints, interviews, and the kind of language exam that leaves your brain bruised and ego humbled, I crossed the finish line. This all…
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