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I’m walking down the back alley in the old city of Chiang Mai. Locals who have spent a life here, temples that don’t seem to have visitors, a white guy chanting in a small restaurant, small cats. Sweaty but nowhere near as hot as Texas. Mountains in the distance. Just trying to grab a bite. noodles maybe? Shit. I didn’t bring an umbrella.

The Rise of the Travel Essaylet

Short-form travel writing is quietly thriving in newsletters, especially “essaylets”:

300–700 word snapshots of a moment.

→ A ferry ride

Aug 9
at
7:05 AM
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