Wandering through a graveyard, a sudden dizzy spell hit me. Was it the spirits of the place come to haunt me, or something else?
Continue reading “The Spirit Is Willing, But The Flesh Is Weak”

Wandering through a graveyard, a sudden dizzy spell hit me. Was it the spirits of the place come to haunt me, or something else?
Continue reading “The Spirit Is Willing, But The Flesh Is Weak”
I don’t remember their names.
I still don’t know much about them. All I really know is that they were dirt poor, and they invited the group of us for dinner.
Manco Inca Yupanqui, king of the Inca people and general of the armies, looked down the steep terraces on Ollantaytambo at the oncoming Spanish army. “Fire!”, he said to his archers. But the Spanish kept coming. It was January 1537.
Continue reading “Crop Circles, Fortresses, and Inca Warriors”
In our welcome meeting, our guide promised that they wouldn’t spring any mystery foods on us, then tell us after what we’d eaten.
He lied.
The small boy, who couldn’t have been more than 5 or 6 years old, bravely stepped up and took my hand as I descended the steps of the bus. He then led me off to discover his world.
The young Kiwi schoolboy watched, first with a quizzical expression, then with astonishment. Soon it would be me that was surprised.
I seem to have reverted to my childhood.