a leave of absence

my time with the crystal merchant is almost over.

i'm off, to see what winds lie ahead of me.

to dust off my red dye and fill it up with life once more.

and a note to future me:

is facebook your social resume? if so, too bad. dont ever let that be.

one snowy night

i agree, wednesdays are good coffee days. so yes :)

lima, peru (i)

Here it began, and here it all ended. I find myself in a small, kinda grinny looking store, front open to the narrow streets of the back alleys, check. Ceiling fan grinning away overhead, check. Smell of cheap stale cigarettes lingering in the air, roger that. Cheap cracked walls with wooden self made tables and stools, absolutely. Up front kids playing catch with puppies, kicking balls around and making funny faces that seems only the pups understand. Empty stacks of beer bottles on one side and stacks of dried bread on the other.

Leo (last name unknown) insists that here, in what you might call a torn-down place of a cafe, lies the mother of all mothers. Café con leche. Scalded goat milk with bold coffee. Yes. None of that expensive creamer/milk wannabes and no instant coffees. Pure and simple. Coffee with goat milk, and i fell in love.I truly understood why coffee in Peru are drinks of royalty.

Leo was an Australian who immigrated to Calgary and found life with the tar sands. Being in the union and all, life was pretty much set for him. No matter where he went, the union always had his back. He could come back 6 years from now and still get a decent non-minimum-wage kick-ass of a job if he so wishes.

We met at the España few days back. He's here living off the land and touring the whole southern continent. We sat, talked and discussed how our travels have been so far. Exchanging tips and pointers, we found that we had something in common. We both, still to this very day, loved our large double-doubles. owh yeaaa.. so good.

to the future

kids

I also met a cyclist (whose name escapes me) in España. He was sitting at the patio, all smeared up to the bone with dirt, cooking his dinner with his camping gear. In his eyes you'd immediately notice that he's the kinda guy who would look in the mirror and never, ever, felt ashamed of himself.

I was ticked.

I knew this man had stories and i wanted them filling up my brains. I mean, how often do you see a person sitting in the middle of the patio, with an open fire, cooking dinner in a hostel? You tell me? He told me he's been cycling for 4 months now in the south, another 2 to go ending in Colombia. Living life cycling and sleeping on the road was a no brainer for him. He loved it. Being free and what not, he starts as early as the sun rose and stopping whenever tired. Gump much?

the sun

He told me this is his second tour. First was 6 months from Europe to Asia. All the way from Sweden to India (and yes, crossing the war zone), and all the way cycling (except for one stretch in Afghanistan where he had to take a bus because cycling is not prohibited along the desert highway). No biggie.

Good luck my friend. May we cross paths again, and i truly mean it.

espana's front desk

the alarm clock

Lima, a place full of life, a melting pot. Its where you'll find people from all over and beyond. Sitting at the main plaza, an old lady came up. She spoke spanish and i english. But this much i understood: "If you ever come back to Peru, i will be sitting right here waiting for you on that very day", smilingly she said.

the morning after

spanish dances

And of course i eventually did come back, 6 months later, but she wasn't. Nonetheless, i sat on the same spot for the second time and paid my respects to her promise. I felt accomplished and loved.

boom-de-ah-da

The world is awesome.

I am a junkie when it comes to this. And i find this absolutely brilliant!

Definitely makes academia worth it.

I love..

Boom-de-ah-da, boom-de-ah-da.

i met the walrus

Brilliantly animated. There's something kinda gumbo-ass about this.

I leave the thinking to those more qualified, i think.

Peace.

Increasingly, or never our hearts off.



interview done in 1969, by a 14 year old kid named Jerry Levitan who snuck into John Lennon's hotel room in Toronto and convinced him to do an interview.

all nighter

The misty eyes of reminiscence always comes up emotionally. And I completely understand why.

an oasis of sound

- a simple and happy tribute to an amazing perspective to sound. they dance but mostly they pray bout love and war. thank you neil young.

the shell

-vulnerable, that's why i'm beautiful.

requiem for lennon

- you may say i'm a dreamer.

blind

-simply too bright

pasar malam

i love adrenaline

humans are dead

under pressure

angels

no more nukes, no more nukes

weekend

Its one of those days where you know the day before was a lot lot better, and you're begging like a child for a simple second of sweet yesterday.

But no.

Always moving, always looking, trying so damn hard to satisfy to the very best of my abilities, my simple curiosity about a world, that only a few years back i've seen nothing off.

When I first set out, everything was new. And looking back, always the same usual monotonous voice creeps into my head saying: 'look how green you were back then man... and of course, the classic, what in God's name were you wearing?!' There's always things that you wish you'd done differently.

But mind you, this aint regret. I mean I still, and always will, love those moments, but if i could just squeeze a little bit more, perhaps my eyes would smile. Because hey, if your eyes are smiling, then you're smiling.

But I know if I could go back and warn little-ol'-mini-me here, he'd be like: 'I know I can't, I know I shouldn't, but I must'.

So I decided, plausible deniability was best. Live and be free my friend.