swancadeau

Baffin It’s a common fact among travellers to realize fully what they got themselves into only when checking in for the outbound flight. I was no exception and few minutes after the counter glowed a nice 82 pounds for my backpack it dawned upon me the suspect that trouble might be at hand. I took some minutes not because I was slow in catching up with the true meaning of it, but because I was at the beginning distressed that 82 pounds did not make a nice round metric 40 kg figure. Then, in brief succession, I noticed the camera and a bag still around my neck, thus rounding numbers up nicely, and realized it was my body in charge of ferrying that huge mass across Baffin Island, where there should be indeed, or might not ... read more

The Top Ten Series: Vietnam 1. War? What war? This thin slice of Southeast Asia has been bombed, napalmed, mined, gassed and poisoned into oblivion for years. French, Cambodians, Chinese, Americans and, last but not least, Vietnamese tried their best to slaughter Vietnamese. Coming from a country where after 60 years way too many idiots are still making a huge fuss and cannot come to terms with what, compared to the Vietnam conflict, was basically a pub brawl in terms of cruelty and losses (I refer to the Italian theatre of operations), I expected dislike, contempt and a certain dose of scorn. But the Vietnamese would have none of it. Probably all the people who can remember have died already. It’s all about a new generation. The young people cannot care less about B52s, Napalm, Vietcong, ... read more

Argentina, 2002 It hits you from the very first steps, out of the domestic airport. When the wind blows from the brownish waters of the Rio de la Plata, many strikes of smoke cross the coastal avenue, hit the arrival building, fly over the runway to mix with the kerosene smell, then joins the thousands others evaporating around every corner of the huge city behind. From poor barrios to flashy cloistered properties, from the dirty unpaved streets of the southwest hair-raising neighbourhoods to the cypress-shadowed placid canals of the artificial Venices of luxury along the Delta, the smell raising to the sky is the same. Like a triumph of apparent democracy and genetic populism, the overwhelming sacrifice of thousands freshly butchered cows that renews every Saturday night gives the fresh perspective of Argentina, the country holding ... read more

Sailing round the corner. Rituals mean something to humans. They mean something more to sailors. Pick up one of them, soak him thoroughly and salt him down for some thousand of miles of rough waters as far S as latitude 55. It might take months. Sometimes years. Steal him good harbours and shelters for weeks. Hide him warm waters and sunny beaches for a long, long while. Even the toughest will be ready to stop and rest for a while. Now give him a ducked, small and safe little cove, view on snowy peaks, cheap moorage and jolly good company. Give him a shower and a bar. He will be ready to follow the rituals of Club de Yates Micalvi, wherever they might lead. After all, it's only an old steamer with a long story, beached ... read more

Gabriel was pissed off that morning. Indeed. The boss was in a rotten mood, and the morning messages at the office did not raise the latter’s spirits. That damn favourite planet of his, the same he spent so much energies and hopes for the future on, even one of his own kids, was a fatiguing and not at all rewarding effort. Just an endless cry of complaints and little common sense. He ended up summoning His own private rainman, Count Negroni, who prescribed a biblical treat of the deadly concoction bearing the same name, and now God was hangover and prone to disaster. ‘Gabriel!!!’ the supreme had called ‘The measure is full. Which is another way to say that I am fucking tired of these humans. Go and announce: I’ll be back, with a vengeance’. ... read more