Here’s the full video – a little Jim Jarmusch-y, but you get the idea. Might not be safe for work. Can’t really remember.
The Language of Game Development, Spoken Here
Archives for posts with tag: travel
I’m staring out at the winglets of our 737 to Chicago, all the dramatic weather that followed our group in the Caribbean now gone away below, replaced with perfect teal sky, erasing the ever-changing, emblematic mixture of winds and wet that made this my most dynamic BVI sailing trip to date: every day an adventure, for better or worse. We had heavy winds punctuated with dead quiet, rainstorms alternating with scorching sunshine, near-hourly wind shifts, but through it all a sturdy boat and an excellent crew. Read the rest of this entry »
I’ve wrestled for years with the concept of delegation. I’ve had clear pictures for the ideas in my head and feel solely responsible for carrying them out. On this trip, it’s become obvious I can no longer expect to live and thrive under the comfortable umbrella of solipsism. The crew on this boat has knit together and done amazing work. Read the rest of this entry »
When I got started in sailing, I spent hours in my small craft wandering the vicinity of the Elliot Bay Marina, filled with masts. There I saw my first cruising catamaran: a paragon of the tropical lifestyle, fat, opulent hulls holding luxurious bunks, grills, ovens, radios and televisions, all held together with two throbbing diesel-fed hearts.
To live, work, sleep, play and eat all on the same vessel overloaded me, stunned me with its potential for happiness. Even intellectually, it was rich, brimming.
I made a pact with myself to pursue a boat just like that with all I had. Read the rest of this entry »
I cannot figure out this city.
Maybe it’s the mixed blessing of having delicate, photosensitive hegemonic nerves crushed with the light of outside, escaping the bounds of an arguably stifled Eastside cultural cross-section, but there’s something manic about the architecture and outbound societal codewords visible in the metropolitan area’s shops and promenades, and it’s really hard to define.
Disclaimer. I come by any conclusions here largely out of ignorance, not knowledge. I don’t want to be this guy.
I gather it’s one of the little joys (bewilderments) of travel to notice things being done to your favorite foods that you’d never wish on anyone – downtown Helsinki’s take on Mexican food, for instance, is to serve their tacos covered with creme fraiche and fruit salsa. Their “Texas” restaurant starts off quite readily with BBQ ribs and T-bone steaks, but rapidly sneaks in continental-intruder-entrees like Duck Confit.
I realize it’s tempting to adopt the superior attitude of oh, those silly Europeans until you realize everybody does this – including Americans – and to mock one culture for exploitative foodmarketing practices is to leave an awful lot of kettles open for being called black.
The close of the tour.
Charles:
We’ve got only a few cycles left before we catch the taxi back to the airport, our boat safely in harbor, stalwart against the building dark of the next cold front. To the BVI, a cold front means a drop in winds, rain showers that would be described by most as “a pleasant distraction”, and a decrease in temperature of about a degree. That’s a fahrenheit degree.
In fact, it’s been stuffier today than any other day since we started our trip – the recycled chill of a 757 cabin in flight actually sounds agreeable. I’ve gone crazy, I know.
We spent the last two days making our way back to base – sort of. No trip is complete without a stopover at Soper’s Hole and the gift shops that dot the eastern quay. We got a few odds and ends for Christmas, then fired up the grill to cook the last meal on the boat. The next day, the swell was building again, and our final run back to Road Town was reminiscent of the first day, when our legs still had learning to do about the pitch and roll of the sea.