Strange structures seem to dance, witch-like, as we drive into Aguas Dulces. They turn out to be paja (straw), the local equivalent of quincho. However, here they also use paja in walls as well as roofs.
Starting my walk around town, I notice what must have once been a map but appears to have evolved into an existential statement:
A house that survived, inexplicably, the storm that destroyed so many others. I remembered this one being in much worse shape, and indeed: compare with the picture in the previous post. Somebody’s been busy!
Lovely afternoon light. There’s a cat in the picture, and several more nearby.
Next morning, an amazing breakfast in an amazing setting. The onshore wind blows back the top of the waves. The face of the farthest break is at least two meters high.
I was talking with an Uruguayan today about our arrival in Uruguay, how people always asked why we’d want to live here when we could live in the Untied Snakes (OK, they didn’t say it exactly like that). This picture I took yesterday reminds me of the answer (especially after almost three years in Mexico): tranquilidad.
Then this, a “garbage” photo that I don’t think I took but I like. Shades of Henri Cartier-Bresson, perhaps. Or maybe it’s the weirdness of the street reflector looking like a sixth finger? Whatever.
Cuzco, Perú, July 2016
And then, this, from a week and a half ago. Dog barking from a tile roof. Of course.