Bridget Gleeson Travel Writer
Notes on travel
Cuba, at last
Havana is both exactly what I expected and the opposite of what I expected. That’s how it is when you’ve imagined something for so long.
Traveling watercolors: 2016 in review
2016 wasn’t exactly the best year ever, but I did manage to take my traveling watercolor set to Nicaragua, Paris, and Tierra del Fuego.
What’s it all about? (Observations from the shoreline)
Surfing isn’t about catching a wave. Fly-fishing isn’t about catching a fish. Nothing is about anything.
Traveling watercolors: a year in review
Last Christmas, I received a travel watercolor set. In 2015 I took it to Mexico, Argentina, Brazil, Uruguay, the Grand Canyon, California, Spain, and Nicaragua.
What I Instagrammed Vs. What Was Really Happening
In travel, as in life, there’s a comical contrast between the images we choose to share — and everything else that’s happening outside the frame.
Dodging the cruise ship crowd: Mexico edition
There’s a reason why there are a thousand resorts here, why the cruise ships all stop here. It’s the same reason that some phrases become clichés: because they’re true.
I make maps: you should, too.
Maps you make for work, maps you make for fun, maps that inspire you, maps that force you to be practical, maps that cause you to fight with your boyfriend.
Ringing in the new year, alone on an airplane
The start of a new year always makes you think. Traveling alone also makes you think. So what happens when you travel alone to a foreign place over New Year’s?
An ode to my traveling companion
We’d never been on such a long trip together, you and me, so I didn’t know how it would go. Six weeks of traveling through Brazil – no, seven.
Vintage Wonderland: South Beach
After one bicycle ride down Ocean Drive, I was ready to chop off my hair, start smoking cloves, and ditch my Macbook for a vintage typewriter.
One for the Road
On traveling alone: accepting solitude, tolerating jerks and being your own best friend.
Los Angeles, Ablaze
‘Remnants of a lost Los Angeles, city of the mind, remembered and yearned for, the neon lights of LA – celestial fires of another sort, green, gold, ruby red, electric blue…
Red Rock: Where Vegas showgirls hit the trails
First, I have to say: I should have just camped out at Red Rock Canyon last weekend.
At home in Santiago
When you stay in a foreign home, you learn what the locals wear to bed and how they take their coffee (in this case? Instant Nescafé with steaming hot milk and liquid sweetener.)
Prague: my old flame
Or the ways in which revisiting a city where you once lived is like seeing a person you were once in love with.
A wandering homebody
I like to stay in. I like to cook. I don’t like to be separated from my family. How on earth did I end up as a travel writer?
Buenos Aires: the underground
“I like to be with other people who don’t need to fit the mold or belong to some kind of tribe. Then we can feel free to celebrate art and music however we want.”
California love
On most Lonely Planet trips, I’m a stranger in a strange land. But here in California, I have a gym membership, happy hour dates, and friends with boats.
Right turn on a red light
I was a tough sell. But the deed is done – I really, really like southern California.