Another set of stairs.  These creepy, rickety things lead to where?  That would be my apartment for 2 summers of living on Mackinac Island.  Being that I lived above the island’s Pancake House, I was often awoken by the sounds of the restaurant below me being opened.

As our front door didn’t actually lock, the apartment was a virtual revolving door of interesting characters.  Aside from myself, the other permanent residents of this 6-bedroom apartment were 2 Romanian brothers, a Peruvian cook, and 6 Jamaicans.  Everybody’s friends were always in and out, and small the kitchen/living room was constantly filled with odd concoctions and the freezer full of frozen chicken feet.

I still have no idea how you eat those.



Nothing that notable to say yet. I’m a native Michigander with a passion for human culture and new places, and more than that, new experiences. I have degrees in writing and anthropology and have no idea what I want to do with them. For now, I’m content with an unbound lifestyle; going where I want and doing what I can, and hopefully gaining some interesting stories along the way.


What are your thoughts?


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