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From all angles

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Never are angles more important, more game-changing, more defining, than when walking around the city of Valparaiso. Each time I walk the same street in Cerro Alegre or Cerro Concepcion from a different direction, or even from the same direction but looking a different way, I see it from a new angle, in a new light, and a whole new world is revealed. A different mural on a huge wall, a tiny corner painted with a happy surprise, a secret staircase, a sea view, a perfect mix and mesh of bright colors. There are times, too, where I’ll find myself in what I believe to be a foreign place, a new and as yet undiscovered (by me) place, only to turn slightly and realize I’ve totally been here before, more than once. In fact, it’s very familiar - I’m just now seeing it from a different angle. And what is this experience if not a fantastic metaphor for life. I think I will put some intention towards seeing things from different angles for the next few weeks to see how it changes my world,
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Life In Ruins

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On a little hike from the small town of Ollantaytambo, in the heart of the Sacred Valley (best known for being the gateway to Macchu Picchu), we came upon one of the dime a dozen ruins that are found here, but this one was inhabited. There were two ancient looking buildings, partially crumbled, overlooking the Urubamba River with a view of the Ollantaytambo architectural site on the other bank. Next to the two ancient buildings was a lean-to with a corrugated tin roof. The first sign of occupancy was a full clothesline of colorful clothes flapping in the misty breeze. Then a baby’s cry. Then a chicken scampering through the grass. We didn’t continue to walk much closer in order to respect their privacy (and protect ourselves from any trespasser-trained dogs), but we continued up the trail overlooking their home. We saw that they had planted beautiful, neat rows of flowers (hydrangeas and geraniums, maybe), they had a garden and a corn field recently burned and ready for replantin
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Quito vs Lima Comparison

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Having only experienced two large South American cities so far, I can only conduct a very limited comparison. However, in said limited experience, Quito and Lima are very, very different. Much more different than I would have expected. Let’s start with pollution : it probably has more to do with the sea breeze vs. cool, falling mountain air, but Lima feels much more breathable than Quito to me. Both will ultimately probably give you a case of black lung if you stick around too long, judging from the black filth stuck in the vent of the dehumidifier in our Lima apartment, but Lima at least smells like it’s killing you slower. Next - style . Quitoans seemed to wear a lot of dark colors, no shorts, and lots of Andean traditional clothing. Limenos, on the other hand, are a bit more liberal with their sartorial flare. Again, this is not the cleanest of studies: we’ve got coastal vs. mountain variations at play. But I certainly feel a bit more comfortable with the range of expression that
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Peruvian Andes - Huaraz

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From my hostel window in Huaraz, I have one of the best views of Andean Peruvian life I could ask for. If there is a silver lining in having a cold while traveling, it’s windows like this, where you are best suited to spend hours on end as part of a necessity-induced recovery scheme. At least watching the wildly busy world of Huaraz go on from the 3rd floor lessens my FOMO. My window is wonderfully placed right above the central Mercado of Huaraz, quite possibly one of the busiest street corners in this city. Mercado Central de Huaraz, from my window; morning, pre-craziness I hear: - hawkers selling their products, announcing them either with their old school analog voices, or augmented with scratchy, low quality loud speakers “Huevos - ocho soles por palete”! - quick little honks, constantly, from the taxis and Colectivos looking for passengers, and from the electric rickshaws that are a dime a dozen here - whistling as traders make deals across corners, waving each other o
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Christmas reflections on Ecuador thus far

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It’s a little hard being away from home on Christmas. I’m not religious, and don’t even have any annual traditions or rituals that I’m missing out on, but popular custom is to place a lot of emphasis on this day above others as a day to rest, relax, be with family, bathe in the familiarity of those you love. It’s an odd and somewhat alienating kind of pressure, this Christmas Pressure, but it’s palpable. Perhaps if I weren’t in a Catholic country where Christmas has an even stronger (and more deeply religious) meaning than at home, I might be able to lean back in a hammock sipping a cocktail and pretend it was just another normal day on the road. But alas, I’m in Ecuador.    If I can’t be with the ones I love observing traditions that mean little to me except in their absence, I might as well reflect a bit. They use the US Dollar here, which is both extremely convenient for me and also somewhat confusing and disheartening for Ecuadorians, from what I gather. Because they cannot pri
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