L'ombelico del (nuovo) mondo

Welcome to the archeological capital of the Americas, the city of gold, the navel of the new world, the capital of the Incan empire, spanning from Colombia to Argentina - before being conquered (invaded?) and raided by Pizarro and his Conquistadores.

Also the base to explore Inca lands and star attraction Macchu Picchu. But that will come later.

Welcoming and pleasant despite its 3400 metres, so rich in history, culture and sights that can be overwhelming.

With churches, basilicas, museums and even pretty good restaurants, it is going to keep us busy for some time.

While a majestic sun is shining onto the imposing Plaza de Armas, the Cathedral and the Church of the Jesuits are competing for attention. Not a novelty: the latter was built in an attempt to rival its neighbour in splendor - until the offended bishop complained to the Vatican and obtained to downsize the Jesuit plans to only one nave.

Both ended up as masterpieces of baroque, rococo and of mixing catholic art and local traditions: Virgin Mary with a dress in a shape of the sacred mountain, bare-chest ladies symbols of fertility adorning the bishop's benches, and our favourite: the last supper featuring roasted Guinea pig on the menu.

The Qurikancha or Convent of Santo Domingo is another must see. Originally the Inca most important temple, the House of the Sun, decorated with gold, silver, thrones and precious stones, it later became a Dominican Convent, built upon and around the Inca structure.

The Incas knew how to make anti-seismic buildings which are in a good part still standing, with trapeze stones, twelve angled stones and lego-style of construction. The colonial structure fared much less well and was much more damaged by the earthquakes. Which led to the local distinction between Inca and Incapaces.

To the Colca

3400 metres down, the 4th deepest canyon of the world. For a while Peruvians thought it was the deepest of them all, disappointed to discover the real depth courtesy of 4 polish guys going for a trek a few years ago. 

Perfect land to produce protein rich quinoa, now so popular in the First world that it has become very expensive for locals and destined to export. Left to los peruanos only second or third quality

Llamas and alpacas live happily together in big herds above 4000 metres, condors spend their mornings crossing a canyon left and right. Instead, humans from elsewhere struggle to cope with the reduced oxygen and the increased cuteness (picture two big grownup Italian boys going crazy about the cuteness of 2 years old Aracel, 3 years old Sofia and baby alpaca Pedro).

Pictures require propina of 1 sol. Yes it is a touristy thing and no I did not resist either. After all, I woke up at 2 am to be here today, the higher moral ground is for another day. 

Befriended also a brave young chica, accountant from Talara (but future singer), born and raised on the seaside few km from the equator. First time on her own, she took a bus ride of 35 hours to get to the heights of arequipa and colca - and falling prey of sorochi. 

Ah, condors and colibris live here too

A relaxed Peruvian start

We came here for treks but Peruvian stories begin with an overnight flight from New York, a nap in a cute b&b in Lima before a 3 hours bus tour southwards, direction Paracas, for the first ceviche and Pisco sour of the trip, by the beach.

An early morning boat visit around the Ballestas islands is the occasion to accept the "guano" challenge: avoid being hit on your head by the bombs released by the thousands of birds living there in peaceful cohabitation with the sea lions.

Next is the oasis of Huacachina, to relax, enjoy the desert, get into a buggie to climb those mega dunes and descend with a sandboard.

The best in Huacachina - we are told - is the aperitif at sundown and backpackers parties.

But by that time we are already on a bus to the next destination.

Next destination being Nasca, home to the pre-inca (or alien, who knows?) lines in the desert, some hundred metres long, in amazing shapes (including that of an astronaut) which you can best admire flying in a small plane over the desert, around the local chunk of the Carretera Panamericana

Leave it all up to me

A summer of few years ago I was enchanted by the big Apple and left longing to come back. Back did I come, at last, hitting a couple of hot spring days - perhaps a tad too hot for a small apartment in the Upper East side.

And a different New York, where the city was not the main point. Although it was, of course.

Not many photos this time, and anyway I never got to work on those from a few years ago, shame on me.

This time, been busy collecting metro and laundromat cards as well as other things. 

For example soaking up the sun and the city esprit on a rock in Central Park, sharing a locally brewed Staten Island lager or a few pancake stacks on the 2nd.

Pretty good also succeeding in getting tickets for the Book of Mormon on Broadway - despite the tech challenges of the enterprise. Hitting a memorable Sichuan crispy cumin beef in the Upper East, and a not so memorable (albeit self proclaiming award winning) hummus in Hell's kitchen.

And finally finding the truth in the subway, in the words of Major Jackson, in a single kiss like a marathon with no finish line.

Spring in Wallonia

Spring is a bit late this year, so all Belgian media made clear to everyone that this was going to be the first warm weekend of the year. 

And it was indeed. 

While half of Belgium went north towards the coast, we went all the way south, to the Ardennes, to a beautiful B&B on the river Semois owned by a very chatty Frenchman who eventually acknowledged that in Italy you could even find *some* good wines. 


The triangle Florenville, Martue and Lacuisine is the starting point for a little Walloon circuit. Not before tasting the local pride going by the name of Orval beer.

Almost too obvious, the first stop needs to be the Orval Abbey, probably the star attraction of the region. Tourists are buying beer there, but we, the locals, know better, don't we?

Hence, time to move on and venture into France to discover Avioth, a small village of a few dozen souls, endowed with an oversized Basilica, a historical mystery probably due to some miracle appearance.

I could not resist taking a photo of the bucolic postcard view of Chassepierre, before heading to Buillon and close the circle with fortress, Godefroy and all the other memories from childhood history classes.

Far north

White, cold, tough. Beautifully hypnotic. Finnish Lapland, all the way north to Ivalo and Saariselka.

Clearly the ideal destination of this long cold winter, looking for even short days, long shadows even at noon, and temperatures a couple dozen degrees in the minus.

Rewarded with an incredible and unforgettable mix of pale blue and light pink in the sky, enlacing endless ice forests coming straight out of fairy tales. 

When the night falls, a Lappish man in Lappish costume will be making coffee for us all, after parking the reindeer-pulled sledge in the middle of a forest during a midnight session of Aurora hunting.

It is -25, so the fire and the coffee feel really good. Aurora is moving and teasing us, but still hiding her green and violet curtains.

Cross country ski aside, better than a trek is an early morning ride on the snowmobile to pay a visit to Santa's office, to try to impress nephews and nieces with Zia's excellent connections - which can be exploited next Christmas.

And to conclude, a first class Napue gin&tonic and a sauna: what can be better?

Lanzarote highlights

Heading for new year's celebrations to the closest of the Canary Islands delivered quite a great sunny holiday week (and a little rain on the last day) with beaches, nature, volcanoes, architecture, seafood and volcanic wine.

On the beaches front, special mention for Famara, the long, wide surfers' beach surrounded by mountains and desert-like landscape; and the playa del Papagayo, at the end of a dirt road all the way south, a beauty and a jewel even when battered by strong winds.

The spectacular volcano Timanfaya and its neighbouring craters would deserve a story on their own, being at the origin of the island as it is today. An impressive landscape, even when done only by bus - and notwithstanding the apocalyptic soundtrack accompanying the ride.

All around the island, architecture beautifully merging with nature, the signature of local architect and hero Cesar Manrique - praised be the man forever - for having spearheaded a mentality of having only buildings which are discreet, low rising and respectful of the island nature.

On the food side, the best meal prize goes to the gambas and langoustines from a restaurant in a probably unknown village squeezed between Arrecife and the airport called Playa Honda. All accompanied by local Malvasia volcanica from la Geria area

Lanzarote might not be famous as a place to go out partying, yet it is a perfect place for a chat with a view on the harbour in Arrecife's Charco

La Graciosa

The most beautiful beach in Lanzarote is said to be on a different island, a little north.

They mean Playa La Francesa but we liked the Playa de la Montaña amarilla better.

The goal of tasting the waters of the Atlantic was thereby achieved, after walking some 10/11 km along the coast. Interesting to learn that all available bikes were gone or reserved for some important lady called Beatriz and that we should have reserved and got better info before even getting on the island. Islanders' mood is definitely not the best today.

Beautiful colours and plenty of empty spaces, we ended up in the good company of a French family carrying colour books, a Spanish trio of friends with benefits, a number of couples and a yoga-on-the-beach virtuoso.