The next to last bus for Greenport leaves at seven o'clock on Friday evening from the corner of Forty-Sixth and Third Avenue. If you're lucky (and I was lucky), in a little under two hours and with few stops or much traffic on the Long Island Expressway, it drops you at the Greenport Train Station where you can buy a two dollar token from a machine to walk onto the ferry. The ferry fits two rows of about five cars with room for passengers along the rails and takes about ten minutes to cross over to Shelter Island. And so, with one small rolling suitcase and very little hassle, I arrived for the first time to Shelter Island on the Friday before the Fourth of July.

Oh, a neglectful blogger am I . Much has happened since last post. I went on vacation. Ten sun-filled days in Italy. And I mean sun-filled. Not a cloud to be found except for one day when we took a trip into central Sicily, up and up into the mountains. There we found some clouds. And a cool breeze bordering on cold. But the rest of warm and sunny and enchanting. I gained back every pound or inch lost on the triathlon circuit to the Sicilian bread, tomatoes and olive oil. And the eggplant. Who knew eggplant could taste so sweet? And the swordfish, pats of butter in the mouth. Maybe stories another time.

I’ve also started a new job. The day after I returned. The bank account was suffering. What can you do.

And, I’ve hit two story submission deadlines on either side of the trip to Italy. But this is a blog, not a have completed list. Shame on me again.

My Trip to Chicago, by Joy Parisi

I spent the last week in Telluride, Colorado and in a few days I leave for a short trip to southern California. And so it seems I'm spending my winter break like a true student squeezing in days of work in between vacations.

Telluride. A town that is amazingly dog-friendly, puppy parking and poop bag dispensers galore, and deeply rooted in the Wild West. Its bars are dark, atmospheric places that smell like dirt and mesquite with tall, white-haired men in cowboy hats that mingle through the thin crowd. It's the town where Butch Cassidy and his gang robbed their first bank. Where that bank stood is a newer stone bank converted into a fashionable clothing store named Two Skirts with the latest Marc Jacobs adorning the mannequin in the window.

It was eleven days ago already that I was making the 30+ hour journey home which included a four hour layover in Taipei and an unexpected two hour layover in Los Angeles after my direct flight to NY was cancelled. I was ready and anxious to board the plane in Bangkok, awake most of the time thanks to the man next to me who fidgeted and farted from Taipei to LA. The California coastline from the plane window never looked so good.

That time has come for all good travelers to go home. And this good traveler is going home happily and eagerly. Right about the time when I was retching into the hospital garbage can in Bhutan, I was ready to wrap up my trip. Ten days later, that's exactly what I'm doing.

Don't get me wrong. I'm happy to be in a place that has constant electricity, free press and a wealth of ATM machines. I'm relieved to be able to kick back in a city and use my Visa and my MasterCard. But compared to other places I've been, what I've experienced in Thailand feels like South East Asia for beginners.

Started the day with some shopping. Had to replace the hat that I left somewhere in Siem Reap (the hotel? the bus?), which is not easy as I have a European sized head and a big one at that. Got a fake Tommy Hilfiger.

Can't believe I've been here almost a week. Time moves at a very strange pace when you're traveling. When you look in the immediate past, a week seems like it took a month, and the greater future, two months down the road seems like it will never come.

After 28 hours in transit, I have arrived in Bangkok and I am sweating. The first stop was Anchorage, Alaska where I was greeted with specimens of the local fauna -- black bears, brown bears, white bears and otters -- all stuffed and on display in natural settings within glass cases throughout the terminal.

Less than three weeks from leaving for my big trip. I would excuse myself for not posting anything in awhile, but I hate when people do that.
I spent last week in Florida unwinding from the holidays.

After months of talking about it, progress has been made. One day away from booking. I'm in love with the idea of leaving in the dead of winter and returning on my 31st birthday.