The deep silence of the mangrove at midday saturates sensations with transcendental attention

Abandoned Temple in Katmandu

Abandoned Temple to Shiva

 Your voice has never been clearer

The ring of your bell carries over

The river and sustains each microbe and molecule

each atom in the plants and brick.

Like your lingam, I stand erect

Still… Your earth, Your heaven, Your body, Your service

In some distant cosmos the collapse has begun

We, in our vanity, said Your temple is abandoned.

I am now Your temple, Shiva, ring me.

San Jose

The old city centre in congested with few cultural attractions unlike the Centro of most Latin American countries. Spanish is somewhat faster and less discernible than in Argentina and even Mexico. People are remarkably welcoming and it clear that the country seems a leading economic light in Central America. I am told the immigrants from Guatemala do most of the farm work in the coffee and banana farms. English is more widely spoken at various degrees.

She is the last of her people, the only living native that speaks the language since her sister-in-law died in 2005. They had lived naked in the harsh, cold climate of the Darwin strait. For centuries the women (only the women) dove into the frigid waters to hunt shellfish. They survived by smearing animal grease on their bodies and huddling around fires in natural rock shelters. It is claimed that they had a remarkably high internal body temperature. The early European explorers, and later, even Charles Darwin, looked upon them as savages. Robert Fitzroy, captain of the HMS Beagle, captured and took four Yamana to be “civilized” in England and brought the three survivors back to be missionaries. On the subsequent trip the only one they found, Jemmy Button, had returned to his traditional ways and told them, in perfect English, that he did not wish to return to England. Darwin, upon meetng the Yamana, remarked in astonishment that the difference between “savages” and “civilized man” was greater than that between wild and tame animals. Thomas Bridges whose descendants still live in the 200 sq km ranch on the Argentinian side, tried diligently to preserve the Yaghan language and culture, even forsaking mission work. His son Lucas, continued the work and developed a complete Yaghan dictionary. The savagery of the civilized is more unconscionable.

Hotel Rincon de Fuego The hotel is barely discernible from the homes
around it, or what appears to be a small school house next to it. Even
the wooden sign with the name engraved into it is barely distinguishable
in the blowing dust. Inside, the young receptionist appears perplexed
that we wanted a room and immediately called someone to determine the
rate. Soon it became clear that the little eating area and kitchen, and
the few bottles of wine that lined the wall would not be enjoyed by any
other guests than us, perhaps because it is overpriced ($100 usd a
night) and/or because it is a quarter kilometer uphill from the main
square. The building is dark and quaint, built from local material in a
traditional adobe style – earth toned tiles and granite floor, thatched
ceiling with lines of local variant of bamboo, and mud walls tastefully
painted in shades of brownish white. The entire structure is naturally
cool and comfortable. The small courtyard surrounded by a low unfired
brick wall has a spectacular view to the eastern hills. The trees create
pools of shade and a giant cactus proudly dominates the assortment of
cosmos, geraniums, and marigold. The outdoor brick barbecue and the
neatly piled logs are customary for a country where parrilla – barbecued
meats – is by far the most favored, almost romantized, food. There are
several flaws – a finicky toilet, an inadequate breakfast, and unhelpful
staff but the greatest flaw maybe the rooster next door whose throaty
call at precisely 4:44 am had made me wish that it would find its way to
La Carmela’s table or a celebratory parrilla.