ANOTHER DAY

I have a bike here in buenos aires.  Beach bike.  Blue.  Big handlebars.  Bitchin’. (it’s time for the revival of that word, by the way.  Make it so)

I love riding the thing.  Here, there, nearly everywhere.  (but that’s another post)

The other day I was flying down Triumvarato, a big avenue.  it cuts out a long diagonal . . . → Read More: the physics of bus vs. bike

Esmeralda.  Emerald.  That’s the boat.  42 feet long, green.  Teak decks, two masts, a ketch.  I’m on it now in the haze of cartagena’s port.  the lights from highrises and container cranes give everything a slow glow.  The water is nearly still.  The measured hand claps of midnight-stained wavelets against the hull. 

Now daylight.   Open sea.  I know I won’t . . . → Read More: open sea. mar abierto

El campo, the countryside, of colombia is populated by a specific kind of man. Here’s a starter kit of sorts for any of you aspiring to be colombian dudes.

Have dark skin. From blue-black to dirty-water brown, the shade doesn’t really matter, but what it does for you underneath the fat colombian sun, does. . . . → Read More: how to be a real colombian man, and other useful tips