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- Continental Breakfast
- Minbar in room
- Drycleaning onsite
- Free High-Speed Internet
- Swimming pool
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Travel Blogs from Antofagasta
... can be reached. Even the world itself, entire, spinning, whole, is dwarfed by the longing of a traveller's soul. The world is simply not enough. For this reason, all journeys finish arbitrarily and are the climatic equivalent of a door left ajar. The ending draws the eye; it seems, after long enough, to resemble not so much an ending as a possibility, a new beginning. The journeys regenerate when we are not looking. Is travelling a smart thing to ...
... spelling 'rhombus' as 'wrong bus'. Indeed, an ironic, eccentric, winding British brain like my one will fall in love with a play on a words, a hopeless linguistic flaw, an incomprehensible dialect- all of the beautiful, awkward imperfections of language in action. But a spelling bee seems too sterile, too unforgiving for this, and thus much better suited to the pedantic, pernickety, nay fanatical competitiveness of Americans, who believe that perfection is not only possible, ...
... you go. Que significa 'sex'? One of my students asked me innocently. What does sex mean? I looked back at my board hopelessly, where I had hastily scribbled the words for the basic emotional states that encapsulate human experience along with their concomitant emojis; sadness, happiness, boredom, excitement. Where did sex fit into this spectrum of human feeling? Where did it begin and end? What bloated, yellow face was capable of accurately conveying how ...
... like the person you feel you are, or want to be; it is a relief to peer into your reflection and recognise yourself in the lump of humanity peering back at you. So I am fighting it, this new judgement of me, this blonde-haired and green-eyed interloper who seeks to strut around in my place. Please, I tell everyone, my students who will listen, I am perfectly content with my mud-coloured eyes and indeterminate brown hair. This is me as I know myself to ...
... you have taken a seat, thus sending you flying; the way the stop button may or may not make a sound as you hurtle past your intended point of disembarkment; the in-micro entertainment comprising an endless parade of guitar players and vendors; the wistful, Castellano jazz playing on the radio and lulling you into a dream of a more innocent era... In sum, you cannot really belong to Chile in a meaningful way until you have learnt to love-hate the micros with ...