http://www.atavist.net/2009/04/14/on-becoming-violently-ill-in-a-foreign-land-and-other-joys/ The home of Evan Ratliff Tue, 09 Mar 2010 23:47:30 -0500 http://wordpress.org/?v=2.8.6 hourly 1 http://www.atavist.net/2009/04/14/on-becoming-violently-ill-in-a-foreign-land-and-other-joys/comment-page-1/#comment-19390 jeffo Wed, 15 Apr 2009 23:26:23 +0000 http://www.atavist.net/?p=202#comment-19390 don't confuse a great moment with a happy one, grasshoppah. the cameroon trip would have been great even without the black-sand beach. nice piece. don’t confuse a great moment with a happy one, grasshoppah. the cameroon trip would have been great even without the black-sand beach. nice piece.

]]> http://www.atavist.net/2009/04/14/on-becoming-violently-ill-in-a-foreign-land-and-other-joys/comment-page-1/#comment-19388 charles saydah Wed, 15 Apr 2009 17:44:54 +0000 http://www.atavist.net/?p=202#comment-19388 An interesting essay. I think you'll find a lot of people share your approach. And one doesn't have to travel far afield to enjoy it. I remember one time in a head at a campsite in Missouri, I ran into a guy who started telling me about his days in the service when he encountered Henry Kissenger, who, at the time, was some up and comer in Army intelligence. At least, that was how I understood it. He went on and on about how the guy struck him (this was some 30 years after the fact; Kissenger didn't make any more of an impression on the guy than his accent, his relatively low rank and his duties implied) and how he had followed the good doctor's career in the three decades that followed. My conversation with that guy in that john occurred more than 25 years ago. It was part of a vacation with many pleasurable moments. But I remember than one in particular. An interesting essay.
I think you’ll find a lot of people share your approach. And one doesn’t have to travel far afield to enjoy it.
I remember one time in a head at a campsite in Missouri, I ran into a guy who started telling me about his days in the service when he encountered Henry Kissenger, who, at the time, was some up and comer in Army intelligence. At least, that was how I understood it. He went on and on about how the guy struck him (this was some 30 years after the fact; Kissenger didn’t make any more of an impression on the guy than his accent, his relatively low rank and his duties implied) and how he had followed the good doctor’s career in the three decades that followed.
My conversation with that guy in that john occurred more than 25 years ago. It was part of a vacation with many pleasurable moments. But I remember than one in particular.

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