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Waking Up in London
There’s a reason it’s called a red-eye flight. Flying overnight sounds efficient on paper, but the bleary, bewildered haze it induces is almost always inevitable. Perhaps there’s something of a rite of passage, though, in sleepless stumbling around airports that makes the journey feel like a strange dream, and the waking up upon arrival all…
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The Bold Beauty of Budapest
Hungary was the first place I’ve ever visited where I didn’t speak one word of the language. The first time I saw a word in Hungarian written out, dauntingly long and heavily consonented, I had a sinking realization that I didn’t know even the most basic of phrases. For months, I had packed as much…
Second Spire to the Right 