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I honestly never thought I would be nominated for a Bloggie, let alone win two straight years in a row. Especially up against other awesome and influential bloggers like The Vacation Gals, A Traveler’s Library, Go Backpacking (who, as it turns out, I will be going backpacking with in Rwanda in two weeks!) and Internet heavyweight Everything Everywhere.

Thanks to all of you who voted or who simply stick around to see me meet my arch nemesis, the shark, in the Caribbean, get nailed by a cab in Finland, temporarily lose my mind as I hurl myself out of a plane at 13,000 feet, get up close and personal with camels in Israel, or (as is more often the case) struggle my way through one period of stress after another (today, this week, this month, the whole of this winter). This gives me the swift kick in the bedonka-donk that I need to step up my game and provide you with even better travel content. And maybe a little wedding indulgence on the side because, let’s be honest, I’m still human. And stationary at (occasional and infrequent) times.

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My most recent trip to Asia came at such a sleep-deprived period of high stress for me that my whole time there seems like it was merely some awesome dream.

I had preconceived notions of Macau, sure: All you ever hear is the “Vegas of Asia.” I hate Vegas; thus, I didn’t have high expectations. But Macau? Nowhere close to Vegas. It’s oozing with Chinese culture and delicious food and Portuguese accents and couldn’t have been a more interesting place to visit.

And last time I checked, Vegas was no UNESCO World Heritage Site.

A special administrative region of China, Macau was first a Portuguese colony and major trading post back in the day (many a pirate sailed through its waters). It was handed over to China in 1999.

It is a peninsula, consisting of the islands of Taipa and Coaloane, as well, and is bordered by the Zhujiang (Pearl) River on the east, the Xijiang on the west. From atop the SkyTower, you can see the Guangzhou region in the distance, and it’s a quick 45-minute ferry ride to Hong Kong, which is where I went from there.

One of the quirkier facets I found was the free “gyms” sprinkled all over the city. Seriously, how cool a concept is this? A playground for adults! And people actually use them, too.

And how can you not love a place where canines get their own restroom facilities? Answer: You can’t.

There will be more Macau posts to come in the future; alas, the worst possible thing that could happen to a journalist did, in fact, occur: My notebook with every last note and interview from my Tennessee book and trips to Macau, the Arctic Circle, Israel, et al vanished, without a trace. Say a little prayer for me, pretty please?

*All photos taken with a Canon XSi, 17-85mm lens or 10-20mm lens (wide-angle shots), housed in a LowePro SlingShot.

**For more Photo Friday fun, visit Delicious Baby.

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The Age of Innocence

A week back in Birmingham and Memphis meant a week with this little angel, she of piercing blue eyes and a magnificent halo of boingy curls.

Isn’t she divine?

And a week with this little gal meant lots of photoshoots, which meant my final photography project was done on the first day. (Oh, I didn’t mention I’ve been taking a photography course since Christmas? Well, I am. Last class tomorrow! Suh-weet. There’s simply too much going on in these parts right now to worry about going back to school, as well, sadly.)

We were meant to pick a word and do a series of photos that displayed that word. Instead, I picked the subject and then the word. (Backwards, whatever, the project still got done.)

So what was the word, pray tell? Innocence. Duh. Isn’t it apparent?

Except, this little monster is far from innocent, so she made a bit of a liar out of me, but my teacher doesn’t have to know that. Because here? She looks pretty darn angelic to me.

And almost—just almost—makes you forget she’s got a set of lungs on her that can rival a bi-polar banshee who’s been wronged six ways from Sunday.

Especially when things don’t go her way (i.e. Nemo’s playing instead of Elmo—oh, the tragedy!).

Still, she’s the cutest darned kid I’ve ever met, without contest.

If you notice site blips, a lack of posting and some gradual changes in the coming weeks, that’s because I’m gearing up to launch Camels & Chocolate, v. 2.0. Stay tuned!

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During my first stint writing a guidebook exactly four years ago, I got a bit of a crush. As SVV was already in the picture at that point, thank God the crush was not on a boy but a city.

A city that, unfortunately, I was too busy soaking in the beauty and culture to take any pictures that did it justice. But as SVV is always lecturing me: “Sometimes you just have to put down the camera and live in the now.”

That city was San Sebastian, obviously (given this post’s title), in the oh-so-lovely Basque Country.

Stretches of the Atlantic were quite reminiscent of Big Sur, and there was so much to do from surfing, day trips to coastal cities just over the border in France, all-night (and morning) tapas crawls.

I spent most mornings checking out the sites for the book…

…afternoons logging my notes into my laptop on the beach and working up a nice shade of red (I peeled for three weeks to come)…

…early evenings watching the sunset from one oceanfront restaurant or another…

…and nights burning the midnight oil with CouchSurfers or fellow Americans I met in my hostel.

Because I had such a big territory to cover in roughly five weeks—Aragon, Navarra, all of Basque and the hundreds of tiny towns scattered among the Pyrenees—I normally only stayed in a city for three or four days top. But San Sebastian I couldn’t bear to leave, and so I found myself bumming around for well over a week. And had I not been meeting SVV in Bilbao soon after, I might have stuck around…permanently.

San Sebastian, I will be back. After all, there’s room in my heart for two great loves.

*All photos taken with some crappy Canon point and shoot I would not recommend. Instead, opt for this pretty model, which will be my next pocket camera.

**For more Photo Friday fun, visit Delicious Baby.

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