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Charleston, South Carolina, Part I: The Guts of a City

Recent posts on willtravelwithkids have talked about the reality of sex trafficking, something the symptoms of which have become more and more apparent to me as we drive the streets in our own town or drive hours away to another city. Our children see these signs and related, intertwined issues, when we travel – drugged…
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The Emancipation Tree: A Story in Place

We stood on the edge of a chunky, red dirt road. Really, it was more like a wide trail, moving along the Indian Ocean shoreline. The sand grass fought to overtake the track and obscure any hints of humanity. Facing the ocean, we could easily imagine this remote locale had been untouched by history. But…
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Pornography – the truth behind sex trafficking; a post for Human Trafficking Prevention Month

Travel exposes you to the glorious richness of humanity – cuisine, ethnic diversity, awe-inducing nature. Travel outside your comfort zone also exposes you to the depths of human depravity. Exposure and a growing understanding of this reality should not cause us to curl up and stay put in our comfort zone, but should spur us…
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9/11 Memorial and Museum in NYC – a hot tourist spot for foreigners

“. . . And please be respectful. There are always families here.” The security guard, a former Marine, was absolutely serious as we exited the screening room. We watched the 9/11 Memorial and Museum introduction video in a hall filled with non-English speakers. Maybe they were new Americans. Maybe not. My guess is mostly they…
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The Jungle Cooks – Nilgiri Mountains, India

You know the moment – the moment when pleasantries have been exchanged and the conversation wanes. The obvious commonalities that often lead to deeper conversation don’t exist – parenting, work, etc. There must be something we can talk about, common interests, passions. “Do you cook?” In the United States this is a loaded questions and can almost…
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The Coming – what it means to a slave of fear

The face of fear, of agony, has new features for me. Tears stream down her face as she recounts confusion, treachery, manipulation, physical bondage, unwanted touching. . . Her story tumbles out of her mouth like a river, eager to be released from the dam of shame. After being abandoned by her parents as a…
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Moroccan Chicken Pie (B’stilla): Cooking in Community

I am very privileged to have a Moroccan friend who lives locally. She came over one morning to give me a cooking lesson. Earlier in the month she had been sitting on my couch, relaxing with a copy of Saveur magazine, when the article on B’stilla called her name. Flaky pastry dough is stuffed with layers…

