Farang Me (or how this blog got its name)

Farang Me

I can’t really say being a travel journalist is a dream I’ve had for as long as I’ve remembered. My childhood fantasies of adulthood were just as filled with firemen and superheroes as the next kid in kindergarten class. No, my goal to be a ramblin’ roamin’ writer is a more collegiate one, to be sure. It’s one I picked up while reading some of my favorite books and novels, still my favorite escape from reality (though Netflix and it’s devious convenience is quickly becoming a close second).

I always envisioned myself there, while hungrily flipping through my favorite American authors’ accounts of their travels. Burly Hemingway in Paris and Africa, posh and opinionated Eliot in London, and, of course, cool Anthony Bourdain wherever it is he would be writing from in the world that week. I saw myself, sun-glass bespectacled, a traveler’s stubbly beard poking through as I sat at…

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