korpalski

There are no walls. No bells. There isn't a cafeteria or Sysco-provided sustenance. There are no halls, lockers, or tiled floors. No windows leading out to concrete and traffic. No tired faces and distant gazes. No bottled passion or diminished expression. There are no rooms. Nothing at all to confine the imagination. There is a mud pit. And a river. There is a hydro-vortex generator. There are gardens. There are students and there are teachers. They eat together. They eat organic food mostly grown on campus. There is bamboo. Nearly everything here is made from it. Drums can be heard while students work on their multiplication tables. Some kids can be found chasing butterflies, others are imitating geckos, but all are digging for worms. Because all the classes have their own worm bins. Parents chatter over ... read more

Massage? No. Massage? No. Massage? No. Massage? How much? 20,000 Rp ($2.50) Hmmm. Massage? Ok. Such is life on Bali. Persistent. Waves of water. Waves of kindness. And yes, waves of offers. These days (I'm aware this is my first blog entry) I'm resting my head in the one-dimensional outpost of Balangan on the Bukit Peninsula. Bukit is a very popular surf destination for everyone who comes through Bali. It has some of the most famous waves in all of Indonesia, and therefore, some of the most frustrating crowds. I'm staying at a family run lodge, (does it need walls to be considered so?), on the beach. It has a floor. And a roof. My room has a bed. And a fan. Surfboards, leashes, and drying supplies, litter the remaining space. Travelers from France, Austria, Australia, ... read more

The expression a picture is worth a thousand words is the impetus for this latest entry! Enjoy!... read more

Walking down the Prado (the main road) in the heart of La Paz I can´t help thinking of Detroit. My memory isn´t envoked for the similarities, but for the stark differences. And for that matter I might as well picture Any City, USA. There is a life here that permeates every corner. Every park bench. The life is outside. Walking down the street. Selling vegetables while huddling over a bowl of soup and a plate of rice. It´s eating ice cream at 10 in the morning, and walking hand in hand with a relative or a friend. It fills the futbol (soccer) stadium and doesn´t stop singing, despite a loss. It rallies in a square-- the cause, for a new road. People work, but they don´t seem to work. The children go to school, but they´re ... read more

At the bottom of the world´s second deepest canyon (the first being the neighboring Cotahuasi Canyon) breakfast is nothing more than stale bread and Nescafe. The fact that I´m being served breakfast at all is a bit of an improbability. A few hearty families, spending the better part of a decade, chased the tourist dollar nearly a mile below the canyon´s rim and the agricultural outpost of Cabañaconde. Beyond the stale bread and instant coffee is a range of bamboo shelters, somewhat natural swimming pools, and warm beer. The hike down was nothing short of ridiculous-- one steep switchback after another-- until knees offer their protest. Taking a Spanish class for a week in Arequipa, one would have to be blind to remain unaware of the trekking possibilities in the Colca Canyon. Everywhere you turn vendors ... read more