Should I be looking at places other than Airbnb when planning trips? That's the question I find myself asking as 2018 gets underway.
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It's been some kind of year, let me tell you — and I mean that personally and on a much grander scale. We aren't here to talk about my move from Ann Arbor to Grand Rapids, or my adventures with Uber over the summer, or those stressful days before I secured a full-time job as a reporter in September, though. No, we're here to dissect, to some degree, the year that was for this blog, Logan's Run.
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Michigan might not exactly be known for its skiing and snowboarding, but you can bet there are still a few options around the state for those looking to hit the slopes in wintertime, one of which is the relatively-affordable and certainly-rustic resort known as Caberfae Peaks.
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Visiting destinations whose outdoor temperatures regularly reach a level of “Okay, this hurts my face,” has, oddly enough, always come with a certain level of fascination for me. What’s even more fascinating than the prospect of visiting such a place is the fact that people actually live in places where the mercury has a difficult time getting past 40 degrees Fahrenheit or so, even in the warmer months of the year.
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Alert, Nunavut, is the kind of place I used to look up on my laptop when I was supposed to be paying attention during class in college, the kind of place that is so unusual or awesomely difficult to get to that it presented a natural magnetic attraction for me.
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You're probably aware of the ginormous Christmas tree that lights up New York's Rockefeller Center every winter, the ice skating rink that appears in Chicago's Millennium Park, and *insert some third semi-nationally-well-known Christmas event or activity* but did you know there is a tiny town smack dab in the middle of Michigan where Christmas rages for 365 days a year?
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December is nigh upon us and that means one thing (if you discount all the other things it means): Holiday Nights at Greenfield Village are just around the corner.
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There are two things in this life that I hold in highest regard, and those are 1) literature, poetry, or anything having to do with writing and 2) travel.
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On a Thursday night at about half past eight in the evening, I sat down with my younger brother and a friend of ours in a quaint little joint on Quincy Street in Hancock, Michigan. Looking over the menu, I steered my eyes toward the breakfast items.
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