When The Saints Go Marching Out: Corpus Christi in Cusco.

They were waiting on the steps of the cathedral. All fifteen of them. Temporary wall-flowers, waiting for their turn to waltz. Adorned in fine fabrics, shot through with gold thread, capped with crowns and canopies, surrounded by fresh flowers, and outlined against a sky-blue heaven. Each surrounded by his own musicians, dancers, dignitaries and followers. Spectators milled about. Some rested on the cathedral steps, others … Continue reading When The Saints Go Marching Out: Corpus Christi in Cusco.

Spanish and Sucre.

It’s like being a child. Back to square one. Frustrating and marvellous. In some ways not being able to talk to people is a blessing. You rely on other things, become better at reading body language, smile more, listen harder. Maybe it’s more about understanding the other, than getting your own message across. I cannot remember the time when I could not talk, and this … Continue reading Spanish and Sucre.

Cry Baby.

It’s a four hundred year old festival. And it’s like nothing we’ve ever seen anywhere before. Even for Tokyo it takes some beating in the weird stakes. As always for these sort of events, getting hard info. was a bit of a struggle. The place was a given. Behind the main temple hall of Senso-ji, but timings were harder to come by. 10.20 and 14.20 … Continue reading Cry Baby.