My first typewriter was a monster of a machine. It was a bulky contraption that needed great physical strength to operate it, but provided an all-body workout that modern technology sadly can’t match.
Just carrying the damn thing required brute strength, unwavering concentration and fine-tuned reflexes; if accidentally dropped, it could cause grievous bodily harm and potential loss of toes.

“Excuse me,” I said, leaning over to the young man at the next table. “What does that sign say?”
“There’s a free yoga class here tonight from 6pm,” he translated for me. “You’re welcome to come along.”
Perfect timing, I thought. It’s just what I need to clear the jet lag after arriving in Lima, Peru earlier that day following a 17-hour flight.
Yoga in Spanish; now there’s a new experience.

I was a shy, introverted child and throughout my teens I drifted on the edge of social circles.
Surprisingly, for someone who’s more comfortable as a wallflower at parties and networking events, I’ve always ended up in jobs that required public speaking.
Perhaps I’m just a closet performer at heart.

I pushed away the dinner plate, unable to fit another morsel of food into my mouth.
“But you haven’t eaten anything!” 
“Auntie, I don’t normally eat three plates of food in one sitting.”