I didn’t even know we’d arrived in Morado K’asa until Roxana pulled at my arm. Clambering past a mother and her baby, we jumped down from the little micro bus and…
Bolivia Challenges South America Volunteering
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Bolivia Challenges Personal Solo Travel South America What the hell?An All Night Long Dance with the San Pedro Cactus
They say that Lake Titicaca is a place of magic. I didn’t know how true that was until I arrived. I’d been standing in the reception of my Isla del Sol…
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Bolivia Personal Solo Travel South AmericaLa Paz, Bolivia: a City of Cold, Colour and Contradiction
“I don’t believe in the gods, but last night I prayed to them that you would come – and you did! And now I believe in them!” The man’s eyes were…
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Bolivia South America VolunteeringWhat It’s Like to Volunteer at an Artificial Limb Clinic in Bolivia
“Ah, shit! I’ve broken my leg…” Two Bolivian ladies flutter anxiously around me as I attempt to get up from the pavement, my spectacular stumble-and-fall still fresh in my memory. My…
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Challenges Personal Solo Travel South America What the hell?Can Drinking Ayahuasca Change Your Life?
Drinking ayahuasca: could it change my life? It’s what I’ve heard can happen. And I was dutifully sceptical, as many people often are when regarding things they don’t understand. Ayahuasca’s just…
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Bolivia Challenges Personal South America Spanish ChallengeThe Spanish Challenge: Don’t Speak English in Bolivia
Hola mis amores! Hola mis amores! El artículo de hoy es un poco diferente, porque ahora estoy en Bolivia – y mientras yo estoy aquí, he decidido que no voy a…
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Before arriving in Sao Paulo, I’d never heard of Batman’s Alley. There’s a huge amount of fascinating street art pieces throughout South America, and every time I take a photo of…
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His name was Francisco, and he’d always lived in the favelas. “I was born in Rocinha,” he told Kay in Portuguese, proudly, “but I built this house eighteen years ago.” The…
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Brazil Personal South America VolunteeringCommunity, Compromise and Hard Work: Back to Basics in the Brazilian Jungle
The late afternoon sun was strong as I clambered across the gleaming white peaks of the kitchen hut roof, paintbrush in hand. It already looked like I was standing on top…
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“Welcome to Bogotá!” Felipe shouted, joyfully, as we raced over yet another gaping hole in the road. His words were almost whipped from his mouth by the wind; I held on…