They look. They holler. And they touch. Usually men. But sometimes, it’s women. At the market, I hardly notice people staring, because I’m too busy watching where I put my feet. I don’t want to trip over a curb, or slip into one. I don’t want to step in a huge puddle. Or stumble into a pothole. Or slip on a pile of muddy trash with flies swarming over it and a stench wafting above it. Or worse, nearly fall into an uncovered part of the sewer. But I know they’re staring. They stare when I’m in the car. Or in a taxi. Or whenever I take my eyes off my feet. Not...

Lightning in The Gambia dances across the entire sky. It’s like the sky is telling a secret, but only those with a keen sense of awareness will be let in on it. Not every strike dances. At the least, each strike is a backlight to the clouds above, a flash of God’s camera capturing that moment in time. But it’s a series of photos so sporadic you couldn’t pose, or predict the next angle, even if you wanted to. To be lucky and catch the sky in the moment — exposing its network of connections, its charge — it’s a secret worth remembering. I don’t know...

I forgot to pack an umbrella. Or any rain gear for that matter. The heaviest jacket I brought is a lightweight cotton cover-up I bought at Top Shop in London a few years back. A little top layer I brought only with mosquito attacks at outdoor restaurants in mind. Yesterday morning, I woke up to the wind and rain pounding against all three of my bedroom windows. We didn’t leave the house the day before because of the rain. While it gave us a chance to practice our Scrabble skills and do some power yoga in the living room, we decided not to let the rain keep us inside again. After a short jaunt...

I walked off the plane and onto the sun-drenched tarmac — my backpack slung around my shoulders, extra carry-on in hand. I pulled my sunglasses off the top of my head and onto my face after two steps beyond the plane’s exit door. Little did I know, this would be the only sun I’d see in the next two days! Despite my doubts, my bag actually made it all the way through 3 stops and 2 different airlines. Impressive, given the horror stories I’d heard about U.S. Airways. A man with no legs, a wheelchair and a huge smile on his face followed Jen and me to her early-90s BMW 5-series...

This afternoon, I met Bay Area-based artist Christopher Elliman in his downtown San Jose studio. I dropped by simply to pick up a sticker he makes. A sticker that in bold white letters against an orange background reads: Make Love Your Law. I’d seen the sticker at a friend’s house two days before. She’d received it as a gift and had no idea where it came from. The sticker had no hint of its origin. No trademark of its creator. Until I realized that the sticker was a trademark. A quick Google search and a few emails later, I couldn’t be happier to be in touch with the local...

On Wednesday, I leave for The Gambia. My sister and brother-in-law live there (running a small business selling solar-powered LED lights), and I figured now was as good as ever to go for an extended visit. It's that itsy-bitsy sliver of a country that's in the middle of Senegal. My bags aren’t quite packed … though I have a list scribbled on a post-it and a devoted section of my closet for what’s going into my suitcase. Most importantly, I have my visa, all six of my shots + malaria medication, and my supply of specially made, packaged with love Inspired Cookies to get...