Katherine Sharpe | a pilgrim’s blogress

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Katherine Sharpe is a writer living in Brooklyn. Read more about her here.

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Posts Tagged Travel

Letter from Charlottesville

Earlier this week I sent off two chapter drafts, and since then I’ve been taking a little elusive ‘me-time.’ Actually, I was supposed to get back to work this morning, but I’ve been feeling an itch lately to blog. I don’t know why. Is it an itch to remember how to write something that is [...]


Budget Recipes, Volume 6: What I Ate on My Late-Winter Vacation (Punk House Lentils)

I know five people who live in a house in West Philadelphia. One of them, I’ve known for a really long time. He told me, on behalf of all the people, that I could come down and stay in their spare room for a few days and check Philadelphia out. The house looks out over [...]


Luna Jaguar Spa Resort: A Funny Feeling

Of all the things I did in and around Copán Ruinas, Honduras with Stephanie during my trip there, the one I feel most compelled to comment on is our trip to the Luna Jaguar Spa Resort, an open-air spa and bathing facility made possible by the natural thermal water that pours out of a hillside [...]


A Lovely Day in Honduras

I used my snapshot camera as a video camera one day in Honduras—and uploaded my first YouTube movie. Giggles, dizzy angles, and drop-dead gorgeous plants on the porch of the main house at Finca el Cisne in Copán Ruinas. Thirty laid-back seconds of life. It was taken from a hammock.


Posted
25 July 2008 @ 10am

Tagged
Travel

Honduras Bound

In less than three days, I am leaving for a week in Honduras. I’m going to Copan Ruínas, a small town near the border of Guatemala and El Salvador. It’s renowned for its Mayan ruins and its international backpackers. I figure if it’s too expensive to go to Europe, I might as well go to [...]


Posted
24 March 2008 @ 8pm

Tagged
Travel

On the Way to Vermont

I love Amtrak. I love not having to drive. I love the forced leisure of the hours spent alone with snacks and book. I love the gentle rocking of the cars, the chuffing of the motor, and the scenery scrolling past: urban back-lots to prim Connecticut villages to, just an hour or so ago, birch [...]