The city sprawls itself haphazardly across storm capped mountains, for as far as the eye can see. The plane hits a wave of misty turbulence as we approach the runway; thunder and the roar of the engines become indistinguishable. I have just landed in Mexico City, and I’ve no idea what lies ahead. Continue reading “RIP Juan Gabriel, Star of Mexico, Latin Pavarotti”
I was sitting on yet another bus a week or two ago, Shaun and I headed for Quilotoa – an active volcano outside of Latacunga, Ecuador. I was sitting there, watching a countryside not so dissimilar to Scotland’s pass us by – all lush greens and forest and pasture – listening to music that reminds me of home, when I was struck by a moment of perfect clarity. Continue reading “The End Product of One Too Many Introspective Hangovers”
What did you want to be when you were a kid?
I ask because so many of my pals had comic book aspirations, like: become an astronaut, a musician, a crime-fighting-bat-masked-vigilante (some were more original than others). But then there I was, wanting nothing more than to be… an archaeologist. Continue reading “Indiana Bannerman and the Journey to the Lost City”
invisible valleys of my fingers
are martian red and dirty
black; choked with dust & oil.
the sunset washes them pretty
in the blue dusk, but
bent on grunge and defilement
i’m caught in golden rays
working dry tobacco
into their depths.
filterless, i push the rolly
between my lips and light
it with the last gasp of day –
burn my lungs as i pull,
trance-like in the presence
of volcanoes and giants. Continue reading “Poems // Las Poesias”
Because variety is the spice of life, and I miss the spice of Indian food, I decided to do something different with my blog for a change. Something a bit more intimate, and something which hopefully might give you a new kind of insight into travelling. I dunno, but fuck it. Instead of the usual gig, here I have copied word for word (complete with all the terrible grammar and overuse of the word ‘wonderful’) the latest entry in my journal. Continue reading “Names”
Activity in the Phoebus’s gun ports promises another round.
If I don’t keep talking, Jacob realises, I shall crack like a dropped dish.
‘I know what you don’t believe in, Doctor: what do you believe?’
‘Oh, Descartes’ methodology, Domenico Scarlatti’s sonatas, the efficacy of Jesuits’ bark… so little is actually worthy of belief or disbelief. Better to strive to co-exist, than seek to disprove…’
Clouds spill over the mountain ridges.
He singles in on the gentle trickle of gin over ice cubes, and the hummingbird thrum of metal skimming glass as the bartender mixes a drink. He blocks everything else out until this tiny alcoholic waterfall is the only sound in the world. And then, beat by beat, and with controlled countenance, he lets the noises of the evening back in. Continue reading “Listening to Miles Davis on a Bus in Argentina”
We’re perched on the back of a pickup truck, gazing with pride at the newly finished chicken coop we built (from foundations up), eating walnuts picked straight from the tree beside us. To my right is a field full of horses – I spot Indio, the one I’ve been riding the past few days – and behind them, on the horizon, the Andes.
I could live like this, I think. Quite easily. Continue reading “Living La Vida Buena”
I told y’all that China post wouldn’t be a one off.
Welcome, friends, to the rib-tickling, rip-roaring, raunchy (really? no, probably not), rambunctious, raw and ridiculous second installment of How is this my life? which offers zero advice to fellow travellers, asking instead the important questions like: What am I doing here? Did that seriously just happen? and, of course, How the fuck is this my life? Continue reading “How is this my life? (II)”
It’s been almost two weeks since I last posted an update, having then only just landed in Seoul: clueless as to how busy, exciting and drunken the following eleven or so days in the capital would prove. Continue reading “It’s not all Cherry Blossom and K-Pop”