Expat Trouble

Meeting flaky expats — refugees from the modern rat race, adventurous retirees, misfits and oddballs.

There was a loud crack. It reverberated through the forest. The birds stopped chirping. The breeze stopped whispering. All was primordially quiet . . .

A loud barrage of furious words slammed me in the back. It was shocking!

Here she was, a lapsed Lutheran female in a smelly animal market trying to buy a sheep from a long-robed male Muslim trader. Oh, the things you learn!

I stare at my funky self in the mirror. What to do? Screaming is hard work, so I decide to be Zen about it.