Post Archive


Here you can find every post from Jack's Journal, even the ones I've hidden! 

An armed escort was waiting the bottom of the steps. They weren’t there for me. I wasn’t in the military anymore, so I joined the line of people making their way from the plane to passport control. The colonels and non-commissioned officers that shared my flight sped to the coalition airbase on the opposite side of the runway. They had a war to fight behind concrete walls an

On a visit to a region plagued by war, a former military officer seeks out a different side to Iraqi Kurdistan that dispels the stereotypes common across America, finding a place paved with peace, from Christian monasteries to pristine waterfalls.

It is my morning ritual during the fiesta: awake early, drink a double espresso around the corner from the hostel, and read the morning paper. I'm specifically reading the section related to the bulls and bullfights for the day. The Diario de Navarra publishes the pictures, ranches, and weights of the six bulls that will run through the streets in less than two hours.

Our hike started on dirt farm roads where local villagers tilled their fields and built their homes. That part of the hike was hot under the Cambodian sun. The French couples burned quickly under its oppressive rays. They hadn't heeded the warning to cover their shoulders, wear long pants, and wear proper shoes instead of sandals. I, on the other hand, was roasting by the time we reached the jungle. Hot and sweaty, but fortunately not burned.