Life from Canada to Latin America, one word at a time.
“Don’t talk about aliens. Talk about people.” Raul turns around to fully face our group, giant stone blocks in the background.While we are gazing in wonder around Machu Picchu, pinching ourselves to try to believe that we actually made it over the Inca Trail, our guide Raul is done with our nonsense. We are sunburnt and
I once bought a pair of yellow wax eyes at the bottom of the walking trail up to Monserrate in Bogota. As I climbed the stairs, I kept noticing vendors selling wax body parts. Arms. Legs. Torsos. Pregnant bellies. Pilgrims carried them with them and left or burnt them at the top. Rather than placing
When people greet each other in the Indigenous language of Tsotsil, they ask “How is your heart?” To respond “My heart is blooming,” means that all is well. To be healthy, to be well, is to be rooted and blossoming. As we open the public day of meetings in southern Mexico about disappeared migrants, Flori,
“I have three things to tell you.” Alvaro Villarraga says, holding up his water glass as he speaks to the Justapaz team. “When the state says that peace process implementation is like a half full glass, which they are continuing to fill, they are being generous. There are but a few drops of water in
https://spark.adobe.com/video/KH3lIVfjCTw6W/embed The arracacha is a yellow-white root. It’s flavour is a cross between a turnip, a parsnip and a potato, with a hint of celery seed. I normally walk right past the dirt covered pile of arracacha in my local fruit and veggie store, as I head for the avocados and the limes. But this
I once brought a stack of photos to a Justapaz meetings. I asked each member of the team to pick a photo and describe a feeling. The one answer that still stands out, because I couldn’t quite believe it, is of a group of kids wearing matching soccer jerseys and kicking a ball. “You can
What would you pack in your emergency kit in case of a hurricane, earthquake or other unexpected disaster? What do you need to survive? Pasta, tins of tuna, bottled water, a phone charger, batteries, contact information, rope, pocket knife, emergency money. These items were only some of the things we mentioned at a recent MCC
As always, last night was beautiful. Families and friends filled the Parkway. The normally dark Bogota evening blazed with the light of a thousand candles. Across the city, and in small towns around the country, we all paused for a moment. Year after year, it’s our sacred duty to light Mary’s way to the stable where she
Jorge says that the twelve days that he has been out of jail have been enough to cure his eyesight. The chance to see beyond brick and concrete has given renewed life to his tired eyes. He doesn’t even need glasses to read his phone anymore, he tells me over lunch on Tuesday. In fact,
The last time I lived in Bolivia, I followed the national elections like a stalker. Everytime I would hear loud music in the street, I rushed outside to watch the flatbed trucks filled with dancers and waving flags go past. Every candidate had a theme song and as it played, the politicians would toss t-shirts
