Arc Magazine

I’m not afraid of swimming with sharks and know how to pick out a good French wine from the dodgy selection at the store. I know everyone everywhere, can live in a bikini and I’m immune to mosquito bites. But I’m still the American, not really a part of either culture, but sort of both floating somewhere out in ex-pat no-man’s land.

I’m sitting on the porch of my beachside cabana on the Malaysian island of Perhentian Besat, and the only sound beside the waves and shrieking of bats is wind, coming in from over the ocean and promising rain. You could see it before the sun went down, long columns of grey and white coming in from a distance.

Yes, Greece. You might think they’re a bunch of ouzo-drinking, tax-dodging yahoos, but da-yum, have they got the cold caffeine down. Check it: First, we have the classic frappe, the signature drink of Greeks young and old. Whether you’re in a café in Athens or at a beachfront cantina, it should take you no less than four hours to drink a single one.

I spent the spring season researching Provence and the Côte d’Azur for a new book, getting lost on back roads as often as time allowed. As a travel journalist, I rarely have time to linger at the most beautiful places I’m paid to cover. So I snap pics to remind myself where I’d like to return, once I’m no longer on deadline.

Sometimes it takes months and sometimes only a week or two, but eventually even the hardiest traveler breaks down. If you are guilty of any of the following, it might be time to unpack your bag and stay somewhere awhile: