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Frank Cotolo
August 7, 2020 |
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I have travelled the Seven Seas, only to discover I cannot memorize their names, and I have been
around the world twice from each side of the Equator. My memories of cities where I have visited
revolve in my memory at random.
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Porto is in Portugal. It is a city overshadowed by Lisbon and all the people who say Porto sucks.
Only narrow-minded people and dogs of war would put Porto down because it is a great city to visit,
make friends and make love to friends. Once, I stayed in Porto so long that I developed a rash,
making too many friends for my skin to absorb.
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My search for the perfect shortbread took me to Edinburgh, the Scottish capital that too many
people overlook, especially when seeing it from the air. Such wonderful bakeries adorn the streets
and the mews. Each has its own shortbread recipe, offering shortbread in many shapes. But all of
the shortbread is packaged in plaid metal so as not to favor any individual colour.
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Late one night, I flew into Tel Aviv moments after a minor attack by enemies of Israel. I was
going to stay a day or two but became unwillingly entangled with the terrorists responsible for
the attack. I thought they were who they claimed to be - fans of my writings. I always like to
spend time with fans but I should have known that fans who carried daggers between their teeth
and lived in a tunnel beneath a holy building, were not wholesome ones. Were it not for my
ability to count in Arabic numbers, I may have been tortured or worse.
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