Flying to Iceland from Paris is a highly disorienting experience, especially if done at night. I left Paris at 11 p.m. only to arrive in Reykjavik at 12 a.m., 2 a.m. Paris time, 7 p.m. New York time if you judge
"New Year's Eve is over-hyped anyway," I tell myself throughout the day on December 31 as the work day passes and no grand plans emerge from the patched-together woodwork of my relatively new and solitary life in Costa Rica. I've been living