A home for Alvaro
“My daughter is a musician,” were Alvaro’s proud words as we shared a taxi into Caracas. He was the program coordinator for the Witness for Peace delegation that I had come to Venezuela… Continue reading
It wasn’t the belly full of savory ropa vieja or the day spent in the sunshine glow of Cuba’s capital city. It wasn’t the colonial facades of buildings, crumbling in Caribbean splendor, nor… Continue reading
Tonight is penultimate night’s eve, 48 hours from now I’ll be surrounded by people trying to sleep on a red-eye flight to Mexico City, too bored with the miracle of flight to look… Continue reading
Looking at a few blogs while I chewed through my breakfast granola, I passed one that’s a series of photos from a lady’s day. (And if I’ve gotten confused and you/he is a… Continue reading
All I want to talk about lately is fish, but I’ll give that a (short) break and tell you about the radio instead. I mentioned that Curacao is filled with Dutch, Spanish, English,… Continue reading