Writing is pretty crummy on the nerves.

Albania in 1994 was the strangest place I've ever seen. It was like walking into the looking glass: falling apart, paranoid people, anarchy, no one farming, full of thieves. It was beyond any Third World country. They were living in their own private nightmare.

Extensive traveling induces a feeling of encapsulation, and travel, so broadening at first, contracts the mind.

I believe I have a sunny disposition, and am not naturally a grouch. It takes a lot of optimism, after all, to be a traveler.

Friendship is also about liking a person for their failings, their weakness. It's also about mutual help, not about exploitation.

I'm not pessimistic about Africa. The cities just seem big and hopeless. But there's still a great green heart where there's possibility. There's hope in the wilderness.

What I find is that you can do almost anything or go almost anywhere, if you're not in a hurry.