Author Archives
Bill Pearse publishes memoir, travel journals, poetry and prose, and lives in the Pacific Northwest.
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The Burren
Dawn said with photography, you have take the picture right when you see it – otherwise, if you wait and try to do it later, the light is different. The same may be true with writing. When I was working… Read More ›
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The Stars Are Projectors
Tomorrow we fly to Dublin, then drive across the island to Ballyvaughan, Burren. We chose not to make hotel reservations for most of our stay, so we can be flexible and stop wherever we want. We’ll be driving stick, on… Read More ›
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The Buten
I spent most of today picking grapes in a nearby village. It hasn’t rained here in two months really, but it rained like hell while we were on the steep slopes with our buckets and clippers. Our friend Uwe has… Read More ›
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The Pleasure Principle
I downloaded this album by Gary Numan for our trip to Paris this week and we listened to it on my laptop, in the hotel. With the lights out, the window ajar, and the iTunes visualizer on, this was one… Read More ›
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Les Bres in Metz
This weekend, we drove to Metz (France) to visit our friends Laurent and Nanou. They live in a two-bedroom apartment with their three kids, cat, and French bulldog. The kids are 9, 3 and 18 months. Needless to say, add… Read More ›
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Cannstatter Volksfest
Last night I met up with our police friend Eberhard and visited the second-largest beer festival in the world, the Cannstatter Volksfest. It’s a 35 hectare fair area set on the banks of the Neckar river, with about six tents… Read More ›
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1989’s Disintegration
I had a cassette copy of this record by The Cure (“Disintegration”), and I wrote “1989’s Disintegration” on the spine of the tape when I dubbed it. I did this to be ironic, since 1989 was the year my first… Read More ›
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Englischer Garten
Just got back from my second overnight trip to Munich: spent the night with a former boss of mine. He’s working with Starbucks again as an operations coach, or consultant, to help the stores in the south improve. When I… Read More ›
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An Empty Shelf
I was the only American among 24 tour-goers, when we went around and introduced ourselves at the memorial site. Our guide, a young woman from New Zealand, asked us to say our name and why we’ve come to Dachau. I… Read More ›
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Dachau
As a show of moral conviction, I was seriously thinking about a visit to the concentration camp here, to balance out my weekend of beer and excess. 15 years ago, on my first trip to Munich, my girlfriend wanted to… Read More ›