It happened suddenly for heat emergencies. This year the "birth" was brought forward" and there we were trying to understand that birth. Almost as interesting as watching was watching them. The cult that harmony; the delicate movement of thousands of people able to walk looking at the sky without bumping; silence impossible when there are so many, many, wandering around in your environment; the care with which touched the flowers; the hundreds of people who are in various arranged with their traditional dresses cities for your appointment with a tree. So, so simple, a tree.
Dominica fue toda esa naturaleza desbocada en una montaña hecha isla. Los españoles la ignoraron en sus primeros viajes por su orografía complicada. Los franceses e ingleses, que la colonizaron, la apreciaron por sus manantiales. El bíblico edén debe ser algo muy parecido a aquellas laderas verdes, con cascadas violentas, entre las que crecen flores extrañas de colores inciertos. El mundo puede ser distinto, Dominica lo es.
El planeta puede ser un lienzo. Un trozo de tierra en la que se desparraman texturas y colores. Una tela de barro y piedra con olor a azufre, a pino, a agua enloquecida. Un sin sentido de humo, estelas verdes y vientos fríos. Las rocas se recuestan sin pasos en su lomo y en las laderas que partieron en dos a golpes de corriente se agolpan las bestias indecisas. El planeta puede ser un lienzo, sometimes, sólo a veces...
¿Qué más hacemos? Y se nos ocurrió una idea magnífica que hace siete años que no realizamos (viví cinco años en el sur de África y llevo dos años en México donde eso no existe): nos fuimos al Ikea de Oakland!!! It was brutal, funny, lleno de emociones. Con esa sensación ya sí de euforia tomamos un avión de noche camino de Salt Lake City. Fuck, costó pero al final encontramos el SF irreverente que habíamos imaginado.
Las altas palmeras torcidas de la avenida dan sombra a moteles baratos que se anuncian bajo viejos carteles mugrientos y en los que no es complicado imaginar prostitutas maquilladas a lápiz de carbón.
Estos y muchos otros lugares encerrados en las angostas travesías de Nápoles siguen alimentando las fantasias y las creencias populares desde siglos. Sitios que celan un pasado misterioso e insondable hecho de personajes legendarios, antiguas maldiciones, cerimonias esotéricas, logias masónicas y rituales supersticiosos.
Las rinoplastias están causando furor en el país desde hace un par de años, en especial entre la clase media alta. Por apenas mil euros, eliges una nariz a la carta que en el caso de la mayoría de chicas suele ser la misma, larga y rectísima para realzar las facciones. “En Irán las chicas no podemos mostrar mucho de nosotras, así que lo que puede verse, queremos que esté perfecto”, confiesa Neda.
Disparan unos contra otros, mothers, uncles, sobrinos… incluso a sus propios hijos. Disparan abuelitos con bastón, y mujeres ataviadas con hiyab, negrísimas como cuervos. Desenfundan sus móviles y pasean entusiasmados con sus palos selfies al hombro. If you're not careful the Iranians shoot at you, while they hug you smiling and ask you to look at the little bird. The selfie revolution has come to the country to stay and among the ruins of Persepolis a shooting blaze rages.
In the middle of a conflict, still surrounded by violence or criminal groups, what is imposed is the routine of life. Because almost always, except when nameless bombs fall, there are people who live there with a certain normality, children going to school, businesses that open to sell something to eat, stalls where you cook, couples who fall in love and fall out of love and friends chatting around a table.
The first time I saw it it was a shadow. We had just been late with our car from Las Vegas, almost 400 km, and they told us that the park opened 24 hours. We went to not see it.
There is an hour in paris, around 6:28, depending on the season, in which the city begins to open up and emits, as if it were an alien object, a magnetic radiation that forces, day after day, Month after month, year after year that passes, to wish to see her be born again.
It was a real slaughter. One of the largest massacres against civilians in history. How could it be that no one knew how to give me an address?? I walked with the feeling of not being able to escape from the sun nor from oblivion.
The Magic caldera of a volcano covered with vegetation and water, warlike tribes of yesteryear, a desert and a lake where there should be no life, an old German who unknowingly commits suicide and a mythical track by passing the great voyages of Africa. The Turkana and its surroundings are not a place over the planet.
How high is? - "emm 25, 30 meters "- Don responds Orlando, who has worked all his life as a herdsman; And how old do you think has? -"Over there 500 years "- He says without much thought, as if it was not an impressive figure. But it is that this tree has been here since before the first settlers even think to reach this forest!
What if something was hiding near its canal and its lagoon? Not, it wouldn't be comparable, but perhaps the traveler misses what is hidden beyond the wetlands. Then another Italy begins, the north, with fewer tourists and full of charm. If you have time, take this route that we recommend here
we watched the sea, that sways violent L`Agulhas, in search of nonexistent shadows of the horizon. And understanding they were not, there no corners, We had understood that the way and we had reached our destination. And we feel the emotion of the child and dreaming of the adult who makes their dreams come true. We had done, were there.
Three weeks of travel by 4x4 to the lesser known South African. National Parks, pristine beaches, tropical islands and history, large cities, navigate a lake, take a train African, across a large canyon, dive ... A journey of a living author for Africa at its best.
A poster, with a metal gate area shared cells (berths), in which there were always more bodies mattresses, explains the different menus that could be eaten in the criminal: Asians and mestizos (coloureds) were members of the group B; while Bantus (black) members of the Group C.
All I have narrated VaP. route I, Javier Brandoli, for nine post. It was from my perception from where the journey has been told, trying to reflect what they lived. Today, to put the finishing touch to this beautiful adventure, they are, my fellow, those who take the word.