My travels to places where there are no paths to follow.
If you haven’t met it yet, may I introduce you to an outstanding survivor of my many street battles versus biking accidents?
Meet an old friend: a Bell bicycle helmet, bought nearly 20 years ago at Fry’s along Rosecrans Ave in Hawthorne CA (at $35.95 if I remember right). Originally in steel gray, and later repainted a militant red with Igan’s help. Continue reading “Survivor is the name of this helmet”
Today I’m on travel guide mode. Bear with me as we visit a familiar place.
Some friends who have seen the Nordis weblog have asked us about the postcard-perfect photo that graces its masthead.
It shows a narrow strip of rocky shoreline where lush green mountain meets blue-gray sea. Along the shoreline, kissed by sun and salt spray, is a long stretch of concrete bridge, a viaduct gracefully winding through steep cliffs. Continue reading “Pagudpud on my mind”
I’ve been eating lugaw (aka rice porridge, aka congee) all my life.
I started at home, associating lugaw with the usual spells of childhood flu, as standard bedside comfort food offered by my worried mother. Hence evolved my lifelong love affair with proletarian lugaw bangketa, savored with satisfaction in working-class districts and poor people’s markets, especially after I became a full-time activist in the early 1970s. Continue reading “The lugaw stall with no name”