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 [...]

The United States is quiet. No car horns. No shouting vendors. No roaring, muffler-less combis or downshifting buses. It’s clean. I took a walk around Syreena’s suburban neighborhood and found a single piece of trash: a cardboard McDonald’s box. Everyone has American accents, and I no longer have to do a double take when I [...]

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 [...]

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 [...]

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.  [...]