Of all the cities in the world to soothe a tattered dream, I hand my vote to Cuenca, in Ecuador. With regrets, of course, to Paris. Folks from the more rural, southern parts of Ecuador will say the little city of cobble stones, cathedrals and actual cappuccino is too cold to be comfortable, too wet … More The Last Beautiful Thing
If you were sick, I mean really, and happened to be abandoned on a sandbank in the Amazon, would you trust a chain-smoking motorbike mechanic with a fetish for vomit and a blunt machete who turns up out of nowhere, stinking of cigarettes and says, I can be helping you if you drink thess! Deep in the ancient forests of the … More Taking the medicine – shock and Awe in the Amazon
If mankind were offered by the gods just one more thing – a magic elixir, a secret, a piece of wisdom or a wish; here’s one scientist that would stand up immediately and shout, “Toothpaste!” Bring us a toothpaste, and make it from flowers!” You do not want to play Scrabble with Dale Millard. And … More Flower power
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Pitter patter … pitter patter… a pit-pat-pitter splat …a blat splat ting! The smoky Andean twilight of the second last day of the world is giddy with raindrops. They hurl in sideways from a ghostly-white dusk and drum their little bodies, fat with Amazon, upon the domed roof of my new adobe home. These orbs … More A Sticky End
It’s difficult to say, really, who ruined everything. I mean, where the rot really set in. Of course, there was that whole thing with the Spanish, and there has been that whole thing with the USA and its calculated plundering of the islands and continents sequentially, but I doubt that even these horrendous incursions, betrayals … More Evilcabamba Diary 1
I’ve always had this intuitive feeling that ‘going back’ is a path fraught with disappointment, a sure way to lance the boil of regret that grows quietly on the under-side of nostalgia. In love, in career and travel, ‘going back’ risks curdling all that warm milky romance that time so gently nurture us with – … More Death in Vilcabamba
A month washed in, a month washed out. Here in Vilcabamba rainbows were broiled up and rinsed out, we had a peace festival which caused no end of bitching and treachery, dust devils hurled themselves about the gritty streets and I walked on with dirt in my teeth and a bliss bomb in my pocket. … More Bliss. Bomb!
In the beginning was the word, And the word, in this beginning was B.O.R.E.D ! So what would you do? I mean, if you had this chance to leave your world and all your pressures , compromises and responsibilities behind, to step out into the (sort of) uncontaminated wild, to live free and unfettered, unjudged … More It’s transcendental, baby
Scott and I have seen the shows, you know.. the ones about how couples move into abandoned and overgrown old farms and Inca ruins to rebuild them into fairy houses busting out with organic veggies or full-fledged farms with actual cows. In those stories the couples are cheery and hard working and have a strong … More Rise and shine… not!
Passionfruitcowgirl 