Cold Streets and Warm Soup: A Vase from Prague
I barely remember booking the trip. One of those cheap flights you find when you're young and living in Europe—fifty euros if you don't mind...
Countryside and Corners: A Catalonian Keepsake
I rented a BMW and drove through Catalonia in autumn. The Spanish rental agencies don't ask many questions when you're young and confident and waving a...
Street Fairs and Shawarma: Pottery from Israel
They don't ease you into Israel on Birthright. You land after a ten-hour flight, clear customs with eyes that won't focus, and get on a bus....
Empty Pharmacies and Ernesto: A Ceramic from Cuba
The pharmacies had no drugs. The restaurants served a quarter of their menus. And if you needed a taxi to the airport, you booked it days in advance—because the...
Mountain Craft: Pottery from the Shenandoah Valley
Not all my pottery comes from overseas. It's tempting to think handmade objects require exotic origins. But Americans shape clay too. We always have. We'd taken...
Rice Fields and Ritz Nights: A Little Guy from Bali
There was an earthquake one afternoon while I was napping. Magnitude 5.6. I woke up to the bed shaking and thought with complete clarity: this is how it ends....
