Dressed in a Cape Cod baseball cap, sunglasses, rugby shirt, shorts and wearing lightweight walking boots I am distinctly aware that I look to all the world like an American tourist – except for that fact that my socks are discreetly pulled down rather than tugged to mid-calf as is the US style. And to be honest I couldn’t care less. Continue reading
At 25-years of age I was unaware what a ‘take me’ moment was let alone realise that several had already passed me by. That was until I found myself swapping travel stories with Brett from Perth in a bar in Indonesia. Continue reading
I stood at the intersection of Haight and Ashbury. An old man walked past wearing technicolor surf shorts, a Hendrix T-shirt, flip-flops, large yellow-rimmed sunglasses and a San Francisco baseball cap. It was a vision both appalling and hilarious, a walking spectre, as though a child had been artificially aged. But it made me smile to think that fifty years after The Summer of Love took over this part of the city in 1967 some of that spirit still endures. Continue reading
I recommend a visit to the Museum of Memory and Human Rights to anyone who has an hour or more to spare in Santiago, Chile and an interest in getting their historical perspectives and worldview correctly aligned. Hugely pictorial in design it is highly evocative of the horrific events that stained this country to the core over forty years ago. Continue reading
If one had to judge the culture and sophistication of a city by the aroma level of stale urine in the air then Valparaiso in Chile would not rate very highly. It would also fall down on the amounts of rubbish and dog shit littering the cobbled streets. However, that would be to do Valparaiso a disservice. Continue reading
I’m lying on the industrial grade carpet and looking out the thick plate glass windows of Fort Lauderdale’s Hollywood Airport. Outside it is 75F but here on the inside I am cold and getting colder. A delay in Lima yesterday and we missed our morning connection to San Francisco. The airplane seat was a relic from the 70s and we barely slept. I am in a mood to rant. Continue reading
I stood at the back of the packed church flanked on one side by a large islander in a multicoloured Tahitian style shirt and on the other by a slighter man in an AC/DC T-shirt and green bandana. As a building it was plain on the interior but made memorable by some truly handsome carving in a light, orange hued wood. The figures were of a familiar religious nature but rendered unusual by the stylised forms and unorthodox paraphernalia. Continue reading
‘Be Careful with the Patagonian Wind’ read the small label on the inside ledge of the driver side door. I remembered Alejandro’s words and slowly wound down the side window. Wind hissed in as though escaping under pressure and a blast of cold air nearly sucked my sunglasses from my face. Holding both the door handle and the frame I cautiously began to open the door. Stable at first, the door soon became a wild beast of a thing as it began to catch a proportionately larger share of the wind and when it was side on it took off like a greyhound from a trap. I was physically pulled out of the driver’s seat and onto the ground, only just managing to maintain a hold on the door and stop it from being torn from its hinges and blowing into the wild blue yonder. Welcome to Patagonia. Continue reading
Shopping is not, ever has been, nor ever will be, high on my list of priorities. Thus walking around city centres can often leave me a little bored unless I raise my gaze away from the plate glass windows that have been ripped out of the bowels of the buildings and look at what lies above. London, Paris, New York and today Montevideo: the assortment of architecture in an old city can be breathtaking. And today, on rounding a street corner, I was rewarded with a rare treat, a fabulous confection of a building rising 27-floors up and above the Plaza de Independencia. Watched over by Uruguay’s homegrown liberating hero José Artigas astride a massive mount, the Palacio Salvo was the work of Italian immigrant Mario Palanti, a resident of Buenos Aires. Continue reading
Travelling, whilst embracing a whole host of new opportunities, inevitably involves leaving some things behind: old friends, family, a secure base, that which is known and familiar. For me, as well as all of the above, I had to forgo my guitars and my tennis, two major passions. Fortunately, however, guitars did appear at odd intervals along the way and I did get to play tennis twice whilst on this trip, on different continents and across a huge economic and social chasm. Continue reading
Ashby's World 