In China

I'm in China, reporting three stories, through early March. It's all here on Find China, http://chinable.org, so why don't you click it already? Come on back to OPP once that trip is over.

Io Parlo Italiano

As I prepare for an upcoming trip to China, the NYTimes Cocuy story has made the rounds, including a melodious translation into Italian:

I ramponi scricchiolano sulla neve. Grossi ghiaccioli color acquamarina sembrano pendere dalle bocche di un profondo crepaccio. Più in basso, le nuvole coprono il bacino del fiume Orinoco come una morbida coperta. Il paesaggio si distende lungo decine e decine di vette ricoperte di neve e profondi circhi glaciali. I laghi morenici risplendono nella luce tersa...

Va bene!

In the spirit, why not

Bikes in Disgrace

Los Angeles Times, 1895. Stuff that gets churned up in research. Read the rest here. 

Monkey do.

I've gone twitter. I am a monkey. You should follow me.




You'll learn about new stuff in media, neuroscience, colombiannesshood and sundry gems from my days mining info, reporting and writing. If blogs are a writer's slagheap, then twitter is a 47th-street diamond store: all glitter, no coal.



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Colombianidad II

Thanks to Felipe, again.

Marcos's Cocuy photos on PDN's Photo of the Day

Marcos's work in the Cocuy is featured on PDN's Photo of the Day. Take a look.

El Cocuy in the Times

On the Ritak U'Wa Blanco. photo: Marcos Roda

I report from El Cocuy National Park in this week's travel section.

Above the Clouds in a Secret Colombia

AS crampons crunched ice, our guide, Rubará, raised his traditional woven sisal-thread handbag by his face and asked me to snap a photo. We were climbing above 17,000 feet, just shy of the summit of the Ritacuba Blanco, a glaciated peak shaped like a soft-serve ice cream cone, at El Cocuy National Park in Colombia. Aquamarine-hued icicles hung from the maw of a crevasse and, far below, clouds blanketed the Orinoco Basin.

The landscape stretched across dozens of ice-capped peaks and deep cirque valleys. Moraine lakes, formed by the natural erosion from glaciers’ unhurried flow and retreat, shimmered in mineral hues. Nearly 30 miles away, we could just make out the telltale church spire of the town of Soatá. Save for a photographer friend and one other guide on the ice field, no other people were in view. The February day was bright. I’d finally caught my breath.

Read on here. And please check out Dennis Drenner's excellent photos in the slide show as well.


More photos, from Marcos Roda and myself, with the voice of Miguel Herrera; 2:08 in all:


Thanks to mucholoquito for creative commons use of his music, off Jamendo.
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