Susan Munroe

We left the jungle before sunrise, standing up in the back of a quarter-ton pickup with seven people and their luggage, plus a bed frame, six bags of aguaje fruit, a stack of unfinished lumber, and a live chicken in a plastic bag tied to the side of the truck that clucked mournfully with every [...]

Jesus and I left Iquitos on the Eduardo VI, a posh(er) version of the Jeisawell, more crowded, less quaint. We weren’t the only tourists this time, though we were the only two sleeping in hammocks in the economy class. The two Dutch had mattresses on the upper deck, and the Belgians slept in a private [...]

The sidewalk under my feet bears a skin of slippery green moss from the night before. Sweat slides between my shoulder blades. It’s early, but it’s already thirty-six degrees (96F). The sun is low in the sky across the Rio Napo. At the waterfront, three men are carving a wooden canoe. Two use machetes to shape the boards [...]

It’s been nearly another month without an entry. Where, oh where, have I been? What on earth have I been doing? As usual: too much. And all of it far too delicious to spoil by rushing. Oh no. This dish has to stay in the pot til it’s good and done. But perhaps this will [...]

After the thirteen days of non-stop hiking, after the jungle and the coffee truck, I was ready to go back to Cusco, to luxuriate in a hot shower and inject some cake into my fat-starved body.  My diet of rice, eggs, potatoes, coffee, yuca and the occasional piece of meat kept me running but did nothing for [...]

The taxi hurtled downhill toward the abuelita and her flock.  Sheep scatter and pigs struggle to waddle out of the way.  Too late, the driver applies the brakes, and ka-thud-du-kahdada – one of the sows disappears under our wheels.  Oh dear god.  I’m horrified, expecting a scene, expecting the abuelita to fly at us in a rage [...]

Cusco, the city of the Incas, the cultural capital of Perú.  At 3400 meters above sea level (11,300ft) it sits, spread across a shallow valley: a sea of terracotta roofs at the center; on the outskirts adobe huts lap at the edges of low, green-brown mountains; the steeples and towers of the city’s countless churches poke upwards like islets. [...]

I’m in Cuzco, Peru.  I’m in a tiny, closet-like internet cafe off of a side street paved in stones laid by the Inca.  Two small dogs are locked into an intimate embrace on the stoop, and the woman who runs the cafe is using a broom and a bucket of water to chase them off.  [...]