Havana, Cuba: I spent a year there one week By Jody Hanson The moving to Havana plan Restless, a touch bored – always dangerous – I decided to move to Havana on 10 December 2015. The hot season in the Kingdom was looming. Three months of relentless heat hovering about 40c…
By Jody Hanson … Like earrings and a properly packed handbag, I never leave home without a krama as I would sort of feel undressed. And the few times I haven’t had it with me, I’ve needed it.
By Jody Hanson — “You went where and did what?” I hissed through clenched teeth.
“But I thought that visiting an orphanage would be doing good work,” replied Andrew, my unsuspecting friend who was visiting from Australia.
Guest Post by Jody Hanson — “Aren’t you going to eat?” I asked Nick. He is a 35 year old tuk-tuk driver in Phmon Penh where I live. In summary he is a combination of my personal chauffeur, a friend and a little brother.
By Jody Hanson — Everything about The Latin Quarter screams Spanish: the food, the music, the wine, the furniture. The colonial house cum restaurant could well be in Cuba or Argentina.
By Jody Hanson — The fact that it took me almost twenty five years to realize I was a sex tourist is not a defence. Check the screaming tabloids and anti-prostitution literature to confirm that sex tourism is totally unacceptable.
By Jody Hanson — The taxi barrelled out of Suva and the city lights faded behind us. And there I was, seated next to Niteshni, my new best friend of 15 minutes, headed for her uncle’s going away party.
By Jody Hanson — My 50th birthday decision was to stop having medical tests: no annual check-ups, no pap smears, no mammograms. Grant, a friend who is a doctor, rushed over to have a serious talk with me.