Five star, five foot.

Los Hombres. Part of the ramdon crowd that stayed on Isla Aramarti with locals Sarafina and her hubby Alberto. Doors were a little short

SJ this one is for you. On this island in the middle of the worlds highest lake, the women wander spinning brightly coloured alpaca wool on spindles, and the men shuffle along cobble stoned farm tracks knitting woollen hats, occasionally looking up to check the herd and admire the ancient Inca ruins.
Isla Taquile


href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhseLysoQPoeH5us_NT9ga3woEGjvMdgk_LRYEvWJQdAkDTc3Yb-TBitp5aXEvi0GIi0CeC6pfHgQ7GPxB8fVOL1Em0rPuiKMsSzGDyhpHCCsIWZ6O2lps7bx75GnO73MJdacpVEUBXWUaq/s1600-h/Imagen+240.jpg">

Martin Pescador, one of the sprats that lives on the floating Euros reed islands.

Sinking ships
No comments:
Post a Comment