Cassidy Parker | Wanderings
I have cycled along dirt roads in Vietnam, hiked across Canadian glaciers, and danced upon Bolivian salt flats. These posts document my wandering feet.
Cassidy Parker, wanderings, travel, adventure, globe, planet
2405
page-template,page-template-blog-masonry,page-template-blog-masonry-php,page,page-id-2405,ajax_fade,page_not_loaded,,qode-title-hidden,qode_grid_1300,footer_responsive_adv,hide_top_bar_on_mobile_header,qode-content-sidebar-responsive,qode-child-theme-ver-1.0.0,qode-theme-ver-10.1.1,wpb-js-composer js-comp-ver-5.0.1,vc_responsive

Two experiences defined my love for travel. One was a hiking trip in the Cedarberg Mountains north of Cape Town when I was 16 years old. I vividly – viscerally – remember standing at the summit of the range’s second highest peak with nothing but mountains and sky for company, and learning the definition of perspective. The second was a shower I took on a train midway between Kapiri Mposhi in northern Zambia and Dar es Salaam in Tanzania when I was 20 years old. An old pipe above spluttered water onto me as I leaned out of the window and into a balmy night webbed with lightning. That lesson was about freedomadventurelove, all in one.

Since these pivotal moments, I have cycled along dirt roads in Vietnam, hiked across Canadian glaciers, and danced upon Bolivian salt flats. These posts document my wandering feet.

Imagine skin stripped from flesh. Imagine only the muscles and tendons and fascia beneath, sinewy and strong, revealing and raw. For a couple of metres from her roots up, that’s what she reminds me of: a body exposed to its essentials...

The road before me was slick with mud and steeply cambered on either side. I turned off the radio, suddenly too loud; tightened my grip on the steering wheel, suddenly too smooth; and licked my lips, suddenly too dry....

No one knew where I was when I fell asleep that night, alone in a green tent in a small village with a name I couldn’t pronounce. I’d spoken about going south, but the rain was torrential, visibility nil, and after 35km and some map-and-soul...

His voice pulls me back from the depths into which I am sinking: "Is she gone?" My eyes snap open, the edges of my vision feel blackened and blurred, and I have the sensation that the rest of my body is submerged in a dark, bottomless ocean, with only...

Another warm, blue-skied autumn day swallows Johannesburg whole. I have been back in South Africa for two weeks and it has been a little over a year since I first arrived in Toronto – on a similarly warm, blue-skied day. Johannesburg’s autumn and Toronto’s spring...

From the top, the world is two-tone: blanketed by the whiteness of snow, ice and clouds below, an inverted bowl of the sharpest blue above. At the back of my throat, a cough-inducing coating that, to my mind, has the colour, consistency and taste of...

Friendships form without warning, I've learnt, and projecting their trajectory is an impossible task. You just never know who you're going to meet one sunny day in Mendoza, Argentina's greatest wine-producing city. And you could never anticipate seeing them there again – a city foreign to you both – 16...

They call it la garúa. Today, it swallowed Peru's largest city whole. A dense, white fog that hid the tops of even relatively low buildings, that concealed the ocean and even seemed to make its salty scent disappear, that allowed the sun's heat to radiate through but not its rays....

Scolded. I consider myself scolded. One of my closest friends, a dedicated food guru and creator of some of the greatest culinary delights I have ever had the pleasure to put to my lips, has lodged a complaint. "I like your blog and all," went the tone of her email,...