The myth of Ullr – pronounced “ooler” Winter weather is one of those uncontrollable, unexplainable phenomenons that people either love or hate. I grew up in South Dakota where winter conditions change from one minute to the next. The sun may be out in the morning, and by noon there is a full on ice storm or blizzard. Just when you think winter is about over, the tulips start popping, and spring is around the corner, SD gets four foot of snow. Like all things out of human control, winter weather has been given a mythical guardian and story. The legend of Ullr stems way back before stories were written down. His name comes …
Colorful, Curious Rebels French music played in my head, it always does when I sip espresso outside of some European Café. I hear Champs Eleysee or Le Vie En Rose thrumming away. Sometimes I think my life is a musical, and I’m the only one that hears the music. Other times I think I’m crazy. Leaning to the side I lightly grab the arm of the waitress, “Kann Ich bitte ein mal espresso haben?” “You can speak English,” She says, “ Your German not very good.” I suppress the urge to tell her the same. “You always were so smooth Animus.” Turning I see my sister standing with her hands on her hips. She smirks. …
Have you ever wondered how other countries celebrate Thanksgiving?
Do they roast Duck or Goose or turkey? Do they eat until their buttons pop? Do they have 10 different pies for 8 people? Do they take an afternoon snooze while watching football?
The places we picked for this issue are beautiful in their icy coldness. They grasp your attention, holding your gaze with their wintery beauty, just like a snow queen. The winter beauty that struck us for this particular issue is the snow queen of Hans Christian Anderson’s short story. Simply titled, The Snow Queen, it is not only a fable but also a mythological tale of romance, sadness, love at first sight, explaining the unexplainable or untouchable, and the presence of rare beauty.
How many Irish Pubs are there in the world?
The answer seems nearly impossible to find. This is probably because of a few reasons. One, who is defining exactly what an “Irish Pub” is; the true Irish would probably judge based on the tap Guinness. Two, Irish pubs open and close every day whether that’s because the owner was a drunk and couldn’t handle his money, or because the local beers just don’t cut it and the town needs a real bar. Three, anyone who tries to count all the Irish pubs in this world would