March Fletch and I have found ourselves a wonderful little island paradise: Mana Island, Fiji. Mana is Fijian for “magic,” and it is indeed magic; it never rains here. The island is a long, narrow stretch of sand, with a ridge of hills down the middle to protect us from whatever storms might try to approach from the north. Our south side is protected by a gorgeous reef that is home to not even half of the dive sites we frequent. There are no roads here, and thus no need for transportation. There really isn’t even any need for shoes.
Mardis Gras, 2014 New Orleans I have this new bible. It's a book called 101 Places to Get F*cked Up Before You Die, written by the awesomely entertaining travel journalists over at Matador Network. The name speaks for itself. I highly recommend you check it out if you haven't already dropped what your doing, packed your bags, and run off in an attempt to outdo the debauchery outlined in detailed, travel-guide format. Enough said. New Orleans: that name has always had a spark of magic since before I ever knew anything about the place. There's always been some force there, drawing in my curiosity and