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  • Dotted with vintage treasures, this eclectic apartment reflects its location in the bohemian neighborhood of Partick. It’s also a short walk from an equally well-curated (though much larger) collection: the Kelvingrove Art Gallery and Museum. After exploring its diverse riches, stop at Partick Duck Club for some crispy battered Highland brie.
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Photo: @jenlittlebirdie
  • This redesigned vintage trailer is a serene solution to the city’s age-old nature vs. nightlife dilemma. Tucked away in the woods just outside town, it feels like a hill country retreat without putting you too far from the action. When the sun goes down, stop at The Picnic food truck park to savor some BBQ before you confront an even tougher dilemma: choosing which live music to see from all the local listings.

Photo: @emilyroseguillory
  • If you're looking for a destination ideal for the whole family, the Pacific Northwest town of Seaside is the perfect place to look. You don't have to go far for swimming, fossil hunting, bird watching and world-class fly fishing on the Nehalem River. And if the wind is right, you'll fall asleep to the soothing sound of owls and frogs in the distance.
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Photo: @_hay_girl
  • Nestled in the forests of Malalcahuello lies Patricio’s cozy Chilean cabin. Guests will find no shortage of ways to get in touch with nature—including horseback riding, hot springs, and skiing at nearby Corralco Ski Center—but it may be just as rewarding to cozy up next to the fire and watch the snowfall.
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Photo: @patolega

Jenny Fountain

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It was a Saturday night, and such a Sabbath as followed! Ex officio professors of Sabbath breaking are all whalemen. The ivory Pequod was turned into what seemed a shamble; every sailor a butcher. You would have thought we were offering up ten thousand red oxen.

I have given no small attention to that not unvexed subject, the skin of the whale. I have had controversies about it with experienced whalemen afloat, and learned naturalists ashore. My original opinion remains unchanged; but it is only an opinion.

For the strain constantly kept up by the windlass continually keeps the whale rolling over and over in the water, and as the blubber in one strip uniformly peels off along the line called the „scarf,“ simultaneously cut by the spades of Starbuck and Stubb, the mates; and just as fast as it is thus peeled off, and indeed by that very act itself.

The men at the windlass then cease heaving, and for a moment or two the prodigious blood-dripping mass sways to and fro as if let down from the sky, and every one present must take good heed to dodge it when it swings, else it may box his ears and pitch him again.

Jenny Fountain | Die Schwarze Neun