Tag: Curls

Moving into Miami Monday Only to Evacuate Tuesday!

I’ve lived in Miami for all of 5 minutes and it’s time to evacuate. So here I am, sitting in a Tallahassee airport at 3am writing about Miami instead of enjoying it. And of course I can’t think about Miami without thinking about my time in Cuba. [click the link for more]

How to Establish Stability as a Nomad

Well after people get over the fact that I’m hardly home (but always reppin’), they ask, as a nomad, how I will ever establish a sense of stability? After a little over a year, I’ve encountered thousands of people, many languages, various cultures and a rainbow of different outlooks on life. Travel became my addiction

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WanderLust (or Love), a Curly-American Walks into a Spaniard Bar… (Segunda Parte)

“Another round?” Shamelessly, I wanted to visit with Enrique again and of course claim my 3rd glass of his velvety port. 
”Guapa. You are having fun?”
Call me guapa one more time, I thought mischievously. “Yes! And I’m going dancing with you tonight!” His eyes widened as he smiled. “Bryan me invita!” I explained in my broken Spanish.

(Video) How I Celebrated “the 20th” this Year

On a solo retreat, when my private grotto became a lipsync stage. Enjoying the breeze and Rihanna’s Love on the Brain in Jamaica.

WanderLust (or Love), in Bar, in early Fall, in Midtown Atlanta

We were seated in a bustling bar in midtown Atlanta only a couple hours after my flight landed. Publik, it was called. Somehow we lucked up with the only two cushy armchairs cattacornered with a view of the entire quaint space. We'd met many times before, often ending up somewhere to talk, away from our

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A Very Curly THANK YOU!

Its been a little over 30 days since I began writing on this platform…. Now, more than 30 posts later, there has been a consistent outpouring of love and well wishes I never expected. I thought I would quietly post my thoughts and observations of the human condition on Curls & Carry-ons and allow it

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The Balconies of Madrid

In Buenos Aires, the doors took hold of my attention and then in Madrid, the resemblance of ornate doorways made it clear where the influence orginated. The architecture, overall was so captivating, but on every street, narrow or wide, it was the balconies that dominated the scene. Romeo could have easily called out to his

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Las Morenas de España

In early February, I received a notification for an Instagram “like” from an account I had never heard of. Upon reading the name, @lasmorenasdeespana, my excitement was immediate as I clicked through to its page. Morena, brown girl, that was me! De España, from Spain, like my father. What was I about to find? I

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