passing by

The first time I imagined Athens I was reading Sophie’s World. I was Sophie. I was transported to Athens during socratic times and I loved every bit of it. Gaardner was a genius to me at 15. Standing by Melina Mercouri’s statue I thought of all the times my mom said my sister was named after her for her work in the Greek parliament and the ministry of culture. From there, I looked up to the acropolis and felt again transported - The ancient hill, the city expanding, the birth and demise of western wisdom’s cradle. Athens seen from the Acropolis There was coffee, as always (a fantastic Burundi at Taylor-Made at that), and jazz and flea markets with old numismatic collections with my frolicking around to pick some. There was breathtaking scenery up by the funicular with timeworn advertisement for some alcoholic beverage. Of course there was Zorba dancing. There was souvlaki and seas. But most importantly, there were stars. Navigating in the middle of the ocean, at the meet...

It was Rome, with its dry flatness and ruvine around. Ten years ago, Jose, my best friend from high school, was waiting for me with a bacci mcflurry by Termini station; this time I was also meeting one of my best friends but from grad school, Shashwat. Rome, with its wide boulevard from Colisseum through Caesar’s forum, its plummeting structures, its Fontana, its pistaccio gelato, was charming, but it was only a pit stop.   From the Egyptian references to the carved marvel, I was captivated by the thought of Pompeii and its people burnt to its feet. Across the city, a mountain was in flames. In Ecuador, when I see this, I regularly call the fireguard. This time, impotent, I just turned to see the horizon. Pompeii was still burning, the mountains were still burning and Pink Floyd played live in the back. I couldn’t stop thinking about the conservation of our cultural heritage. How does humanity decide what is ‘worth’ preserving? Who makes this decision? Nowaday...

I had just seen a ray below me and I was scared out of my mind. -It was my first time snorkeling and the guide later agreed it was indeed quite a large specimen. - I was appeased by the guide’s presence and once the ray went its way, he left me alone again. I tremulously continued swimming until, suddenly, I was following a sea turtle and two sea lions came to my sides. I swam in their company in an experience I can only remember as daydreaming. This was 8 years ago and ever since, Galapagos has been my favorite place on Earth. Work brought me back to the Galapagos. Initially designing a water accessibility project in El Progreso and now with the most passionate group of climate change students - I can feel solastalgia rising but not without glimpses of optimism and particularly with a grounding for a reflective life to be lived. ‘An unexamined life is not worth living’; that has never been truer. During these days I have also been back snorkeling.   Close to a rock fo...

How often I’ve closed my eyes wishing, imagining, willing for the stars to start dancing… It was a Milky Way layered night on the Pyrenees when it finally happened. Casparo was playing the guitar while some of the people in the group chatted, played or meditated. It took me by surprise when I saw that shooting star. I thought I had seen many before but I had been wrong. Perhaps this time I had the right wish to ask.  While some stars moved elliptically, Casparo began telling us the story of this land… Once upon a time there was a war between the anarchists and the fascists in Spain, they fought across the ridge from where we were staying. A family in this area took an anarchist in their home and hid him from the fascists. Their 6 year old daughter brought him food everyday. On an unfortunate day when the fascists came looking for the fugitive, while shooting him, they also shot the little girl. The anarchist didn't make it, the little girl survived; however, the wound left her...

The mud held me back and the rubber boots felt awkward but necessary. We were walking behind the city of Baños, a small town that I have visited since I was a child. Whole Saturday afternoons would be spent next to the jukebox-perhaps the reason why I can sing along to old cumbias and lambadas that my mother loves- while my little sister and I would splash each other with the water in the bathtub we kept in the garden and pretended was our pool. Baños from Illuchi-Los Sauces I had been to Baños so often that I had stopped questioning what activities were available; the trek to Illuchi-Los Sauces was the first eye-opener. My students were eager to show me each plant and its properties, reed and putzos, llantén and tree tomatoes. Initially, we strolled by San Francisco bridge, a beautiful viewpoint for the Pastaza river and the cliff that separates the town from its surroundings. As we were walking uphill, we encountered a little lodge named ´Las Granadillas´ after an endemic ...

The bells were singing at a non-descript, non-specific hour; it was 10:12. Why were the bells singing? Because they can, it is fairytale land- Or so you would think by the way the sun hits the orange façades, the small canal crossing town and the Rapunzel-tower-looking churches scattered around. The 18 th century houses with wooden columns would not stand an earthquake (none happen here) but they give a rounded architectural feeling to the city– an artist at the art festival in Ridehuset painted them as though in a bubble and called the piece ‘Nostalgia of Aarhus’ – oh so accurately. Some people say I may be in a honeymoon period with the city but I wouldn’t say that is the case. I have heard too many complaints, the same you hear of any small city that is not the main one in any country – not as many things to do as in X (insert capital city). But the distribution of Aarhus makes it seem as though around the corner there is a different space where you can be someone completely dif...

This piece has been mellowing for some time. It was a bright morning in New York. The spring air filled the streets with pollen and the fragrance of new blossoms. After a 5K run with Allison, we met with Jen, her boyfriend and another one of her friends to have some coffee at the Hungarian pastry shop, a place I had intended to visit for a while. The days prior to that, I had felt as though I was being relieved from a choking sensation of fear for what was coming. I had spent long hours staring at my computer hyperventilating for not being able to produce coherent lines for my thesis. I read this and it helped. After many years, I had gone back to take refuge in literature but it started with music. Jim Morrison’s American prayer became my hymn for a couple of weeks. I had been feeling hopeless. Yet, out of serendipitous events I was visiting some places that were becoming havens- may be as a result of what felt as my imminent departure from the life I had been building in New ...