I have waited my whole life to take part in a festival like the one which we stumbled upon yesterday -- But wait, Ill get there.
So Lony and I slept on Shabbat; I had a fever and a runny nose which you might think is an exotic disease but really it was the common cold. Plus the altitude I was out for the count. But come Sunday, I was 100% better. Acclimated, kicked the cold, ready to roll. Our plan for Sunday was to see the artisans in the Plaza de San Blas, make some plans for the week, maybe see the Museo Inka and just explore Cusco. I made a list of the festivals in June to see if they had past, or which were coming. Inti Raymi -- the largest festival in Peru is June 24 and Im blocking the whole day and night to photograph that. Others are on less clear dates such as Corpus Christi which takes place nine Sundays after Easter (go figure that out). So I meant to ask.
Just walking around Cusco is an experience. The sights and smells, people leading llamas and all manner of cooked meats, teas, and fruits; everything is cobblestoned and set into steep hills. There are many many beggars and peddlers who are rather pushy too, which makes everything a little sadder and requires more caution that Id have wished. We shopped in open air markets and I photographed many faces (as you will see if you click the photos on the side of the screen); Lony meanwhile kissed every child we came across; it was adorable.
Come 1pm we stopped in a cafe for a cup of tea, and when we came out into the center square, we could hear deep, pagan drumbeats from the hillsides and suddenly as if a dam broke, a wave of colors and sounds in the form of swirling masked dancers came chanting and rolling through the streets. They were followed by more and more outrageous colors and costumes; drummers and flutists and violinists and at the center, a large decorated casket carried on the shoulders of suited, serious men and led by small children with halos and ribbons. This was a wild synthesis of ancient Incan dances and rites with the Catholicism of the Conquistadors. It used to be a day that the Incans honored their dead by parading mummies through the streets and bowing to them, praying to them, and then dancing them back to their graves. With the influence of Catholicism, the mummies became Jesus and the Saints, but the rest of the ceremony remained Incan. Everything about it was so pagan -- so ancient with such a deep spiritual and superstitious energy -- it was as if no time had gone by since the Incans were dancing through the streets with their mummies, celebrating the moon and above all the sun. We were entirely transported to another culture and time. Incredible. And I hear the best is to come. This was just the welcoming ceremony for Corpus Christi which takes place on Thursday (we have a school field trip to the main square where we will learn about the Peruvian festival; en espanol, claro). And then Inti Raymi later in June. Wow.
Thats all for now. Today we started in the Cusco ECELA Spanish program, and it is even more excellent than Lima. Our teacher is relaxed but professional. We learn in a classroom and large open stone courtyard, and Im getting ever better, Lony is as well. The same teacher will work with me one-one-one for medical Spanish, as she is a nurse. So Im quite excited about that. As always, everyone is so warm and friendly; this seems to be true of all Peruanas, and we feel always surrounded by family here. We also have made many friends, nearly all Israeli, as there are so many, Hebrew is like a second language here; more common than English in parts of Cusco.
Im uploading pictures now, but Ive gotten 1/2 way through and have to go -- all the parade pictures are at the end too, so youre missing the best ones! But Ill try to get them up tonight. Sorry, enjoy what there is!
Monday, June 8, 2009
Saturday, June 6, 2009
cusco
sorry i havent been able to write. the caps on this computer are very difficult so im doing all lower case. well we have zero internet at our house but 5minutes away there is an internet spot where it is 1.15soles for 1hr -- about 30 cents. they have a fast connection and skype though no camera that I can see. so this is promising at least for the next 3weeks while here.
so friday we traveled to cusco, no problem, and this place feels like another country -- no, another century -- with poor natives carrying tomatos in their skirts and trying to sell their chamomile flowers for tea while carrying a colorful papoose with an infant on their backs. we drove through narrow cobbelstoned streets past fruits youve never seen before and hanging pig carcases and roosters and stray dogs to stop at a random door leading into our apartment.
were staying in our own apartment which is actually a little scarier than a home stay as we had in lima. the door has an old iron bolt lock but the wood is so light and old that even i could kick it in without any effort. Every noise sounds like its in the house, the walls are so thin, and its very very dark at night. but lony and i had our mace by the bedside and slept pretty well anyway. the place itself is like in the old city, up an alley, through a doorway into a courtyard which is gated and walled by thin tiny apartments though which you can hear every cough and bark. then through our flmsy door into a gorgeous white-washed and wood two-story adobe lit throughout by huge composite windows and skylights. there are plenty of blankets which is necessary because there is no heat and it is in the 30s and 40s at night. but it has real life hot water, even in the sinks so we´re thrilled. its very clean and so far were the only inhabitants though they expect others from our language-learning program to join.
last night we went to chabad and it was wild. 200 Israelis, the place was packed, and we met the usual post-army traveling southamerica crowd. we also met a girl, jenny, who knew nothing at all about judaism but was jewish herself and came to explore. she asked when we commented on how the little three year old looked like his father the rabbi: rabbis are allowed to be married and have kids? were meeting up with her tonight to hang out more.
The altitude is brutal though. The second we got off the plane we had headaches, nausea, and felt overall sick and dehydrated. Coca tea and diamox helped Lony but as it turned out, I was getting sick anyway and slept most of today with a fever. Nothing else though so it seems like its only a virus and will pass. not too bad. after the things weve eaten and drank, Im lucky this is all i have. lots of electrolyte replacements and bottled water. and after motrin I finally stopped shivering.
now im much better and were out in the beautiful main square (10500ft elev) planning our restful activities for tomorrow while we continue to acclimate.
so friday we traveled to cusco, no problem, and this place feels like another country -- no, another century -- with poor natives carrying tomatos in their skirts and trying to sell their chamomile flowers for tea while carrying a colorful papoose with an infant on their backs. we drove through narrow cobbelstoned streets past fruits youve never seen before and hanging pig carcases and roosters and stray dogs to stop at a random door leading into our apartment.
were staying in our own apartment which is actually a little scarier than a home stay as we had in lima. the door has an old iron bolt lock but the wood is so light and old that even i could kick it in without any effort. Every noise sounds like its in the house, the walls are so thin, and its very very dark at night. but lony and i had our mace by the bedside and slept pretty well anyway. the place itself is like in the old city, up an alley, through a doorway into a courtyard which is gated and walled by thin tiny apartments though which you can hear every cough and bark. then through our flmsy door into a gorgeous white-washed and wood two-story adobe lit throughout by huge composite windows and skylights. there are plenty of blankets which is necessary because there is no heat and it is in the 30s and 40s at night. but it has real life hot water, even in the sinks so we´re thrilled. its very clean and so far were the only inhabitants though they expect others from our language-learning program to join.
last night we went to chabad and it was wild. 200 Israelis, the place was packed, and we met the usual post-army traveling southamerica crowd. we also met a girl, jenny, who knew nothing at all about judaism but was jewish herself and came to explore. she asked when we commented on how the little three year old looked like his father the rabbi: rabbis are allowed to be married and have kids? were meeting up with her tonight to hang out more.
The altitude is brutal though. The second we got off the plane we had headaches, nausea, and felt overall sick and dehydrated. Coca tea and diamox helped Lony but as it turned out, I was getting sick anyway and slept most of today with a fever. Nothing else though so it seems like its only a virus and will pass. not too bad. after the things weve eaten and drank, Im lucky this is all i have. lots of electrolyte replacements and bottled water. and after motrin I finally stopped shivering.
now im much better and were out in the beautiful main square (10500ft elev) planning our restful activities for tomorrow while we continue to acclimate.
Thursday, June 4, 2009
Centro de Lima
As expected, we are too busy living life here to write about it, but Ill try.
Spanish lessons are moving excellently. Lony, who is only on her third day of learning Spanish is starting to pick out words, and I speak a fluent mistake-filled pidgen Spanish. :) Its great it just comes pouring out of my mouth chalk full of wrong conjugations, swapped words, and verbal faux-pas, but everyone is so kind and impressed that I am trying that Im generally understood and vicaversa.
Yesterday we got up had breakfast of bananas, granola and a Peruvian yogurt -- I have to find out what its called. We were in the supermarket here picking out flavors when a tall Peruvian gentleman came over and started advising us what is local and what to buy. He said this fruit is only found in Peru and it is the best. Wow, that is an understatement. It is fantastic. It tastes like a caramel yogurt a little, but fruitier and in fact from a caramel-colored fruit. Plus we always drink this cloves tea with a dash of thick milk. The food here is so fresh, it is incredible. I havent gotten into the coca tea since its tastse sort of grassy and isnt much to my liking.
It is always a moment leaving our locked, safe, stucco-walled front patio. All the tranquility in the stately colonial house dissipates as we step out the the flowered white haven within the gates of our courtyard and out onto the bustling grey streets. You are immediately swept up into the grey hecticness which is Lima, vendors riding long 15-ft bikes with their little bread stands on top, blind beggars and street children, business men and women with pocket watches and three-piece suits walking to work. We live a 15minute walk through the center of Miraflores to our school and the mornings are filled with sights and sounds that are so South America -- or perhaps many non-first world cities. At times it reminds me of Ben Yehuda street in Israel, but then it lacks the familiarity we feel when there. We hurrry to class -- always late -- and then again step off the street into a gorgeous old colonial building; this one ornate and guarded by wrought-iron fences, into the school courtyard and our class.
In the afternoon, we picked up our friend Eva the German girl, and were off to the Center of Lima, the Plaza Mayor (de Armas), a 30minute cab ride, $3.00. All the quaint charm and relative safety of Miraflores gives way to the Big City feeling with shoe-shiners, and police, and pickpockets, and textile and leather vendors, and the seat of government. Pictures are on the upper left, I hope. We made out priority seeing the historic building and the Monastario de San Francisco with the Catacombas -- the San Franciscan Monastery and Catacombs -- which that the most unbelievable frescas and tiling and ornate gold-leafing over Cedarwood furniture. It was a place full beauty and mystery, straight out of Umberto Eco's name of the Rose. There were old monk's bones/bodies in random places and a library with tall winding staircases reaching up into the vaulted walls of ancient religious texts. Lots of skylights there since candles were forbidden in the library. And then the catacombs, a sort of mass grave for those who could not afford a plot of their own, build for Peruvian-size people so we were hunched over walking through the tunnels, and lit by glassed-in torch-lights on the walls.
Incredible.
But it is already 15 minutes before we need to leave for class, and we're on track to again be late, so I have to run!
Spanish lessons are moving excellently. Lony, who is only on her third day of learning Spanish is starting to pick out words, and I speak a fluent mistake-filled pidgen Spanish. :) Its great it just comes pouring out of my mouth chalk full of wrong conjugations, swapped words, and verbal faux-pas, but everyone is so kind and impressed that I am trying that Im generally understood and vicaversa.
Yesterday we got up had breakfast of bananas, granola and a Peruvian yogurt -- I have to find out what its called. We were in the supermarket here picking out flavors when a tall Peruvian gentleman came over and started advising us what is local and what to buy. He said this fruit is only found in Peru and it is the best. Wow, that is an understatement. It is fantastic. It tastes like a caramel yogurt a little, but fruitier and in fact from a caramel-colored fruit. Plus we always drink this cloves tea with a dash of thick milk. The food here is so fresh, it is incredible. I havent gotten into the coca tea since its tastse sort of grassy and isnt much to my liking.
It is always a moment leaving our locked, safe, stucco-walled front patio. All the tranquility in the stately colonial house dissipates as we step out the the flowered white haven within the gates of our courtyard and out onto the bustling grey streets. You are immediately swept up into the grey hecticness which is Lima, vendors riding long 15-ft bikes with their little bread stands on top, blind beggars and street children, business men and women with pocket watches and three-piece suits walking to work. We live a 15minute walk through the center of Miraflores to our school and the mornings are filled with sights and sounds that are so South America -- or perhaps many non-first world cities. At times it reminds me of Ben Yehuda street in Israel, but then it lacks the familiarity we feel when there. We hurrry to class -- always late -- and then again step off the street into a gorgeous old colonial building; this one ornate and guarded by wrought-iron fences, into the school courtyard and our class.
In the afternoon, we picked up our friend Eva the German girl, and were off to the Center of Lima, the Plaza Mayor (de Armas), a 30minute cab ride, $3.00. All the quaint charm and relative safety of Miraflores gives way to the Big City feeling with shoe-shiners, and police, and pickpockets, and textile and leather vendors, and the seat of government. Pictures are on the upper left, I hope. We made out priority seeing the historic building and the Monastario de San Francisco with the Catacombas -- the San Franciscan Monastery and Catacombs -- which that the most unbelievable frescas and tiling and ornate gold-leafing over Cedarwood furniture. It was a place full beauty and mystery, straight out of Umberto Eco's name of the Rose. There were old monk's bones/bodies in random places and a library with tall winding staircases reaching up into the vaulted walls of ancient religious texts. Lots of skylights there since candles were forbidden in the library. And then the catacombs, a sort of mass grave for those who could not afford a plot of their own, build for Peruvian-size people so we were hunched over walking through the tunnels, and lit by glassed-in torch-lights on the walls.
Incredible.
But it is already 15 minutes before we need to leave for class, and we're on track to again be late, so I have to run!
Tuesday, June 2, 2009
Arrival Adventures
We're having the BEST time already.
There were some initial adventures which are too long to relate here, involving new friends, much broken Spanish, and a sprinkle of luck, but suffice it to say that nothing went as planned and we survived anyway. After much giggling and whispering on the hostel couches, we went to bed at 4am and slept until 7am. As soon as the sun came up, we blew out of our mediocre hostel for the place we're meant to be staying. What a difference.
It is gorgeous old colonial home with white walls, wood trim, and surprising geometric skylights, and hidden winding staircases like they are in Jerushalayim. Open to the air in random geometric corners, with doves in the eaves laundry blowing in the wond. The elderly proprietor Olrando and his daughter are kind and warm and quick to laugh; the essence of hospitality. It seems that with so many bathrooms and bedrooms, the family makes an income renting it to wealthy international students. The group, as weve met so far is a young man from Montreal (Egyptian originally) who has worked in Peru for a year doing social and political research for the Peruvian embassy, a Brit working for months with Amnesty International, an Alaskan working in inner-city Lima public hospitals as a pharmacist, and a German here, like Lony and I, with a Spanish Immersion program. Smart and funny and well-travelled; and all our age, I would love to spend more than the few days we'll have with this group. We're going out for tea/coffee/beer tonight and hopefully we'll keep in touch throughout our stay.
We went to class late -- it took time getting our bearings in this city which is ungridded and set at an angle to the sea -- but we got there, and met our teacher Pilar who listened to our Spanish, gave us a written test, and put us in class 1A. :) Im actually really glad because I feel like I always fake things enough to advance to a later class, but then I actually miss the fundamentals and always regret it. And I learned things already, so its perfect. Lony and I are the only ones in our level, so we have a private teacher, but then during breaks we socialize in the open-air patio/courtyard, drink tea, and talk to the other students. Weve met Patrick from Phili who ran the Boston Marathon, a guy from the south of France, and Japanese fellow recently immigrated to the US, and an Italian, as well as the lovely staff there including Antonio (another teacher) and ours, Pilar. Classes run 9A-1pm, with little breaks, and the there are afternoon activities which Ill probably do in Cusco, but here were so busy exploring, we havent signed up for any yet. I keep meaning to take pictures of these fantastic ornate old building but have some rightful trepidation about carrying my camera, let alone taking it out, on the street, so we'll see -- the pics you see here are of the home we're staying in.
Off too class now.
There were some initial adventures which are too long to relate here, involving new friends, much broken Spanish, and a sprinkle of luck, but suffice it to say that nothing went as planned and we survived anyway. After much giggling and whispering on the hostel couches, we went to bed at 4am and slept until 7am. As soon as the sun came up, we blew out of our mediocre hostel for the place we're meant to be staying. What a difference.
It is gorgeous old colonial home with white walls, wood trim, and surprising geometric skylights, and hidden winding staircases like they are in Jerushalayim. Open to the air in random geometric corners, with doves in the eaves laundry blowing in the wond. The elderly proprietor Olrando and his daughter are kind and warm and quick to laugh; the essence of hospitality. It seems that with so many bathrooms and bedrooms, the family makes an income renting it to wealthy international students. The group, as weve met so far is a young man from Montreal (Egyptian originally) who has worked in Peru for a year doing social and political research for the Peruvian embassy, a Brit working for months with Amnesty International, an Alaskan working in inner-city Lima public hospitals as a pharmacist, and a German here, like Lony and I, with a Spanish Immersion program. Smart and funny and well-travelled; and all our age, I would love to spend more than the few days we'll have with this group. We're going out for tea/coffee/beer tonight and hopefully we'll keep in touch throughout our stay.
We went to class late -- it took time getting our bearings in this city which is ungridded and set at an angle to the sea -- but we got there, and met our teacher Pilar who listened to our Spanish, gave us a written test, and put us in class 1A. :) Im actually really glad because I feel like I always fake things enough to advance to a later class, but then I actually miss the fundamentals and always regret it. And I learned things already, so its perfect. Lony and I are the only ones in our level, so we have a private teacher, but then during breaks we socialize in the open-air patio/courtyard, drink tea, and talk to the other students. Weve met Patrick from Phili who ran the Boston Marathon, a guy from the south of France, and Japanese fellow recently immigrated to the US, and an Italian, as well as the lovely staff there including Antonio (another teacher) and ours, Pilar. Classes run 9A-1pm, with little breaks, and the there are afternoon activities which Ill probably do in Cusco, but here were so busy exploring, we havent signed up for any yet. I keep meaning to take pictures of these fantastic ornate old building but have some rightful trepidation about carrying my camera, let alone taking it out, on the street, so we'll see -- the pics you see here are of the home we're staying in.
Off too class now.
Sunday, May 31, 2009
On our way!
In yet another attempt to blog about my trips (the amount of blogging is usually inversely proportional to how much fun Im having, so for example I only blogged on the first day in Iceland), Im starting this one up as I wait for my plane in the Ft Lauderdale airport.
For me, this trip is divided into three sections: 1. June: Spanish/Medical Spanish with my sister Lony. 2. July: Provision of medical care at Lamay Clinic with the wonderful Cleveland Clinic Plus group, and 3. August: Vacation for two weeks with whatever family and friends wish to join me. I leave today and will, God Willing be back August 10.
I thought a great place to start this blog would be some very sound and practical travel advice I received in the form of a NYT article forwarded from my sister. The advice is below:
1. Carry a “decoy wallet,” so that if you are robbed by bandits with large guns, you have something to hand over. I keep $40 in my decoy wallet, along with an old library card and frequent-flier card. (But don’t begrudge the wallet: when my travel buddy was pickpocketed in Peru, we tried to jump the pickpocket, who turned out to be backed by an entire gang ... )
2. Carry cash and your passport where no robber will find it. Assuming that few bandits read this column, I’ll disclose that I carry mine in a pouch that loops onto my belt and tucks under my trousers.
3. Carry a tiny ski lock with a six-foot retractable wire. Use it to lock your backpack to a hotel bed when you’re out, or to the rack of a train car.
4. At night, set a chair against your hotel door so that it will tip over and crash if someone slips in at 4 a.m. And lift the sheet to look for bloodstains on the mattress — meaning bed bugs.
5. When it gets dark, always carry a headlamp in your pocket. I learned that from a friend whose hotel in Damascus lost power. He lacked a light but was able to feel his way up the stairs in the dark, find his room and walk in. A couple of final gropes, and he discovered it wasn’t his room after all. Unfortunately, it was occupied.
6. If you’re a woman held up in an isolated area, stick out your stomach, pat it and signal that you’re pregnant. You might also invest in a cheap wedding band, for imaginary husbands deflect unwanted suitors.
7. Be wary of accepting drinks from anyone. Robbers sometimes use a date rape drug to knock out their victims — in bars, in trains, in homes. If presented with pre-poured drinks, switch them with your host, cheerfully explaining: “This is an American good luck ritual!”
8. Buy a secondhand local cell phone for $20, outfit it with a local SIM card and keep it in your pocket.
9. When you arrive in a new city, don’t take an airport taxi unless you know it is safe. If you do take a cab, choose a scrawny driver and lock ALL the doors — thieves may pull open the doors at a red light and run off with a bag.
10. Don’t wear a nice watch, for that suggests a fat wallet and also makes a target. I learned that lesson on my first trip to the Philippines: a robber with a machete had just encountered a Japanese businessman with a Rolex — who now, alas, has only one hand.
11. Look out for fake cops or crooked ones. If a policeman tries to arrest you, demand to see some ID and use your cell phone to contact a friend.
12. If you are held up by bandits with large guns, shake hands respectfully with each of your persecutors. It’s very important to be polite to people who might kill you. Surprisingly often, child soldiers and other bandits will reciprocate your fake friendliness and settle for some cash rather than everything you possess. I’ve even had thugs warmly exchange addresses with me, after robbing me.
13. Remember that the scariest people aren’t warlords, but drivers. In buses I sometimes use my pack as an airbag; after one crash I was the only passenger not hospitalized.
14. If terrorists finger you, break out singing “O Canada”!
15. Finally, don’t be so cautious that you miss the magic of escaping your comfort zone and mingling with local people and staying in their homes. The risks are minimal compared with the wonders of spending time in a small village. So take a gap year, or volunteer in a village or a slum. And even if everything goes wrong and you are robbed and catch malaria, shrug it off — those are precisely the kinds of authentic interactions with local cultures that, in retrospect, enrich a journey and life itself.
http://www.nytimes.com/2009/05/31/opinion/31kristof.html?_r=2&emc=tnt&tntemail0=y
For me, this trip is divided into three sections: 1. June: Spanish/Medical Spanish with my sister Lony. 2. July: Provision of medical care at Lamay Clinic with the wonderful Cleveland Clinic Plus group, and 3. August: Vacation for two weeks with whatever family and friends wish to join me. I leave today and will, God Willing be back August 10.
I thought a great place to start this blog would be some very sound and practical travel advice I received in the form of a NYT article forwarded from my sister. The advice is below:
1. Carry a “decoy wallet,” so that if you are robbed by bandits with large guns, you have something to hand over. I keep $40 in my decoy wallet, along with an old library card and frequent-flier card. (But don’t begrudge the wallet: when my travel buddy was pickpocketed in Peru, we tried to jump the pickpocket, who turned out to be backed by an entire gang ... )
2. Carry cash and your passport where no robber will find it. Assuming that few bandits read this column, I’ll disclose that I carry mine in a pouch that loops onto my belt and tucks under my trousers.
3. Carry a tiny ski lock with a six-foot retractable wire. Use it to lock your backpack to a hotel bed when you’re out, or to the rack of a train car.
4. At night, set a chair against your hotel door so that it will tip over and crash if someone slips in at 4 a.m. And lift the sheet to look for bloodstains on the mattress — meaning bed bugs.
5. When it gets dark, always carry a headlamp in your pocket. I learned that from a friend whose hotel in Damascus lost power. He lacked a light but was able to feel his way up the stairs in the dark, find his room and walk in. A couple of final gropes, and he discovered it wasn’t his room after all. Unfortunately, it was occupied.
6. If you’re a woman held up in an isolated area, stick out your stomach, pat it and signal that you’re pregnant. You might also invest in a cheap wedding band, for imaginary husbands deflect unwanted suitors.
7. Be wary of accepting drinks from anyone. Robbers sometimes use a date rape drug to knock out their victims — in bars, in trains, in homes. If presented with pre-poured drinks, switch them with your host, cheerfully explaining: “This is an American good luck ritual!”
8. Buy a secondhand local cell phone for $20, outfit it with a local SIM card and keep it in your pocket.
9. When you arrive in a new city, don’t take an airport taxi unless you know it is safe. If you do take a cab, choose a scrawny driver and lock ALL the doors — thieves may pull open the doors at a red light and run off with a bag.
10. Don’t wear a nice watch, for that suggests a fat wallet and also makes a target. I learned that lesson on my first trip to the Philippines: a robber with a machete had just encountered a Japanese businessman with a Rolex — who now, alas, has only one hand.
11. Look out for fake cops or crooked ones. If a policeman tries to arrest you, demand to see some ID and use your cell phone to contact a friend.
12. If you are held up by bandits with large guns, shake hands respectfully with each of your persecutors. It’s very important to be polite to people who might kill you. Surprisingly often, child soldiers and other bandits will reciprocate your fake friendliness and settle for some cash rather than everything you possess. I’ve even had thugs warmly exchange addresses with me, after robbing me.
13. Remember that the scariest people aren’t warlords, but drivers. In buses I sometimes use my pack as an airbag; after one crash I was the only passenger not hospitalized.
14. If terrorists finger you, break out singing “O Canada”!
15. Finally, don’t be so cautious that you miss the magic of escaping your comfort zone and mingling with local people and staying in their homes. The risks are minimal compared with the wonders of spending time in a small village. So take a gap year, or volunteer in a village or a slum. And even if everything goes wrong and you are robbed and catch malaria, shrug it off — those are precisely the kinds of authentic interactions with local cultures that, in retrospect, enrich a journey and life itself.
http://www.nytimes.com/2009/05/31/opinion/31kristof.html?_r=2&emc=tnt&tntemail0=y
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