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From No. 1 Cape Town all the way to No. 52 Niagara Falls, N.Y., explore the vibrant cities and spectacular coastlines, unexpected spots and new attractions that made our list this year.
Why does my bucket list continue to get longer and longer? Surprisingly, Myanmar doesn’t make the cut in this NY Times piece.
After reading Fast Food Nation this month, my eyes were completely opened to a world that I never thought about previously.
It is a world where the fast food behemoths seemed to be no better than organized thugs, where the power of the meatpacking industry is such that it effectively manipulates government policies and drives some of the most unethical workplace practices, and where secrecy and denial perpetuate.
Since then, I haven’t been able to eat red meat (thinking about those unsafe and unjust labor/commercial practices), and have been concerned about the food that I’m eating.
Enter the debate about GMOs. I get it. Nobody wants to eat a browned apple. Or a browned avocado or banana. But one that is GMO enhanced to keep it looking fresh? There’s a reason why fruit changes color - it’s natural. It’s meant to be that way. You should eat the fruit right then, right there.
Spurred by an NPR article: http://www.npr.org/blogs/thesalt/2014/01/08/260782518/this-gmo-apple-wont-brown-will-that-sour-the-fruits-image?utm_content=socialflow&utm_campaign=nprfacebook&utm_source=npr&utm_medium=facebook
Today’s disruptors and tomorrow’s brightest stars in Marketing & Advertising
Yesterday I was stuck in two snowstorms. The first started on the first day of the year. The airplane promptly blew a flat tire and left me stranded for a day. The next afternoon led to missing my connecting flight out of Newark by a fraction of a hair. Then waiting six hours for the last flight leaving to San Francisco… and seeing the snowstorm rapidly brew outside. Flakes of white dripping from the sky. Then bucketing rapidly sideways. Creating a bed of snow that would otherwise be almost magical.
Magical, had it not been for my second snowstorm. The one in my mind as I panicked while seeing the news reports from the terminal. The one in my words, as I cursed at my travel luck. The one in my actions, as I ran, wind entering my lungs to get to that missed connecting flight. The one that was filled with stomach butterflies, a pulsating headache and a frenetic energy… even as I finally got off the plane, bleary-eyed and achy, at 2.10am in San Francisco, about 30 hours after I was meant to get home.
The first snowstorm is still raging. But the second one is the one that I’ll need to continue to quell.