There’s something about trains.  The clack-clack, clack-clack, clack-clack of the steel wheels.  The soothing sound of the whistle.  The rocking back and forth like being cradle in a mother’s arms.  The slow pace of the engine, as if the trip is the most important thing going on that day. When...

When I told my well seasoned travel friends I was going to Colombia for a month, they politely declined my invitation to meet there. “Oh, don’t think we’re ready for Colombia—not too safe yet. I’ll wait till the war is really over.” Another said, “Just seems kinda dicey there, still.” I’m...