
Frank Hosek
Journalist at Kankakee Daily Journal
Sometime traveler who embraces the journey and the written word.
Articles
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2 weeks ago |
goworldtravel.com | Frank Hosek
The afternoon sun back-lit the band with its white-hot glare. The postage-stamp-sized stage at Robert’s Western World is against the front windows. It barely contains the quartet with their stand-up fiddle, drum set, and guitars. I was entrenched on an aged chrome stool whose seat was leaking its foam stuffing out of a sizeable hole. A warm, humid breeze barely made its way through the open door to the rear of the narrow confines where we were seated.
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3 weeks ago |
goworldtravel.com | Frank Hosek
I’ve never understood the fascination with guacamole. I don’t hate it, just don’t love it. My dip of choice for tortilla chips tends more to salsa or bean. But on this day, at this moment, I was fascinated as our server dexterously created the green staple at our table. If you’ve not had the pleasure, tableside guac can be a thoroughly entertaining experience.
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1 month ago |
goworldtravel.com | Frank Hosek
“Remove yourself from the path!” That statement whipped across the sidewalk leading to the plaza with all the forceful impact that a Drill Sergeant could muster. And it was directed at me!As we had exited the tram-bus, the driver had announced that the military guard at the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier was changing any moment.
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1 month ago |
goworldtravel.com | Frank Hosek
We were headed down east. Heading “down east,” as it’s known in Maine’s local dialect, means heading in a northeasterly fashion into the heart of Maine. Our final destination was to be Bar Harbor, but before we arrived there, we wanted to see Maine’s breathtaking coastline. The best way was to follow Route 1. Traveling Route 1 along Maine’s coast is arguably the East Coast’s most scenic drive. The layers of pictorial texture dictate a slower pace and deserve it.
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Mar 23, 2025 |
goworldtravel.com | Frank Hosek
I stood as close to Champlain Mountain’s granite cliffside in Acadia National Park as I could bodily squeeze myself. My left hand grasped the ancient iron rung embedded in its stony flank while my toes tried to grip the narrow trail through the soles of my shoes. Meanwhile, I fumbled for my camera with my right hand. While trying to take a picture one-handed without losing my handhold or the camera, I noticed the iron rungs at my feet, defining the very edge of the bluff.
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