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Diane the Wild Wanderer

It's a small world. Live large.

Diane's blog

Welcome to the mental and physical voyages of Diane Wild. 

Peace and propaganda in the DMZ

Every two-ish years since Vancouver 2010, I've worked for the host broadcaster of the Olympic Games. So every two-ish years I explore as much of the host country as I can given how little free time I have during the contract period. Other than Vancouver (because I...

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Finding an introvert’s paradise in New Mexico

One week, one roadtrip crammed with eccentric offerings such as Meow Wolf’s The House of Eternal Return, the Albuquerque International Balloon Fiesta, an open house at the Very Large Array, and the state’s nuclear legacy. A yurt with a hundred-mile view off the...

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Ring in the new

This summer, a coworker and I were chatting while kayaking in the Burrard Inlet when I mentioned a former colleague had moved back from Europe and was now living on Salt Spring Island, picking up freelance work so she could work remotely. “I wish I could do something...

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Fuzz therapy

This isn't just one of my favourite comic strips, it's a way of life. I've almost always had cats, and currently have two old-to-ancient ones in my home now. They are sweet, and soft, and love me unconditionally (but more so when I'm feeding or petting them). They...

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The legacy of Denis McGrath

Reposted from TV, eh?: So much has and will be posted about the Denis McGrath-sized hole left in the world after his death last night. A small part of his legacy is that without him TV, eh? would likely not exist. In an alternate, Denis-less universe, one we’re...

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Swimming with sharks in the Galapagos

There came a point in the trip where I questioned the wisdom of swimming toward the man yelling “shark!” That point came later than you might expect. I’d only been snorkeling once before, years before, from the beach in Cozumel. I mostly remembered feeling...

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Cramming in Kauai

“Oh shit!” I heard the words and so never did see the wave that inspired them. When your raft captain yells an expletive, you know to hang tight to the rope and duck your head. You also know the heightened sense of adventure is what you paid for, so no panic...

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I don’t care if you like my tattoo

When I was young I would wait until it was unavoidable to admit my dad was dead. I wouldn’t correct the plural on “parents” but if someone asked directly about my father, well, I wasn’t about to lie, evade, or reenact the Monty Python parrot sketch. I didn’t avoid...

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A not-a-bucket of colour-blind monkeys

I chose early on not to mark the anniversary of my brother’s death. I instead wanted to have my private little ritual on a day celebrating his life: his birthday on April 8. It’s a ritual that involves cake and not much else. I’m not big on ritual. I am big on cake. I...

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