Chronicles

Texts on travel and international politics around the globe

1336 articles

Praise borders

I like borders. They are the confirmation that the world is not ending, more paths are left to go. Whenever I get to one, I want to cross the other side. It is a matter, truth, Although administratives have taken over them and determine to turn them into simple customs.

Langtang (II): peace under the stars

After dinner the men gather around the fire with an aluminum glass of tea that they put on the stove so that it doesn't get cold.. And they tell stories of ancient Sherpas, of mountains coveted by any mountaineer and own experiences on those peaks.

In the darkness of a monastery of Lalibela

Wrapped in his white robes, men and women climbed the slope that led to San Gabriel in silence. White figures marked the meanderings of the path up to the horizon. The more timid, to the meet me, entornaban face, covered by the toga.

Where the Cantabrian has not yet left his childhood

The high estuaries from Viveiro to O Barqueiro have places that are really out of the ordinary and far from any tourist guide. Roads where the footprint of the pilgrim is strange, the people are cool as grass and the forests have eyes that, among ferns, they will appear in our path

Denali, the icy maze

As soon as we reached the town of Talkeetna, we had the feeling that the entire town was following our steps with whispers.. The arrival of some foreigners by car from southern Alaska would not have anything particular during the summer months, but in the middle of winter, That was certainly a novelty..

In Mostar Bridge

On the Mostar Bridge the shadows walk so fast at dawn that no one sees them. At the Mostar Bridge the maps are glass and the towers are centipedes. On the Mostar Bridge prayers and bells are heard and when the sun goes down the drunken dance the wind without knowing where to lose. On the Mostar Bridge it smells of generous food, to clay pot, to fish meat ...

The sedentary traveler

The sedentary traveler does not remember when or how he stopped traveling. A bad day, it happened. Maps fell from the calendar, planes and routes with the same ease with which, suddenly, winter is coming.

The round beaches of Morrocoy

In the collective imagination, the Caribbean is presented as a turquoise blue or emerald green vacation, because the stillness of the sea tends to be associated with the brilliance of precious stones. The Morrocoy keys are bathed rather in green, a glowing green, hypnotic, that hopelessly attracts tourists.
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