culture
Get the authentic cultural experience on your next foreign jaunt. Wander like a local; here, there, and everywhere.
New Year's in Kiev
They greeted us at the hostel with salo, pelmeni, and syrniki. It was a narrow room, featuring a cracked old, black fake-leather couch across from the receptionist’s counter. It was New Year’s Eve—not the Orthodox, Julian New Year, but the Gregorian—and they were preparing for a celebration. I took the meat and cheese and shoved it greedily into my gullet. I was hungry, and I loved trying new foods. I had never been to Ukraine before. Everyone in Moscow had told me that the culture was similar, but no one in Moscow greeted you at the door with snacks.
By Robert Pettus3 years ago in Wander
A Trip to England (Part III)
There are moments in your life that cloud things; that make things seem so difficult to comprehend that you just do not deal with them in a way that would seem proper. I was given that photograph of my half-sister and kept it hidden in a drawer from any curious eyes in my house. I did not mention it or even hint at it until my mother confessed that she knew all about her and we both realized that two lies were living in the same house. As I think about that scene between us, I realize that I would not believe it if I had heard about it from a friend (not even the film studios of Hollywood could have imagined such things). But it was too real and made me more aware of what was true and what was imaginary. I paid more attention to the racist graffiti I saw on an embankment wall as we travelled to a cricket match (contrasted with a wheat field that appeared like liquid gold, it was startling to see an attitude so honest). I noted that fruit sold in the markets came from South Africa. This was during apartheid and I made a point of buying a t-shirt that recommended that one Boycott South African Goods. I then looked carefully around that neighbourhood. Cramped homes, grey weather, narrow and mugger-friendly lanes and walls, appalling programs on TV (comedy specials seemed to have to volume of the audience turned way up for the weakest jokes) and I have already commented on the food.
By Kendall Defoe 3 years ago in Wander
'Captain' Gallagher: The legend of Ireland’s ‘Highwaymen’
My mother first told me the tale when I was three years old. Somewhere, in a forest near her hometown of Swinford, Ireland, lay the buried treasure of a folk hero who gave power to the powerless. More than 200 years ago, while Ireland’s County Mayo was patrolled by British soldiers, controlled by English gentry and riven by poverty, one group of Irish men launched an unconventional revolt.
By Seamons Mahall3 years ago in Wander
The truth about British stoicism
The street cleaner was sitting at a small table outside Leadenhall Market in central London, his gaze fixed on a large mug of tea in front of him. I’d met the 60-something-year-old man a few weeks earlier on a previous visit to the market.
By Seamons Mahall3 years ago in Wander
