Category Archives: Visual Stories

In Guatemala – Part three: Lake Atitlán.

(continued from Part two: The coffee farmer on the volcano.)

A loud thud resonates through my bones as my head slams into the metal ceiling once again as the driver forgets to tap his brakes in lieu of an oncoming speed bump. I can attest to the strength of this inconspicuous van, in that my head hasn’t yet left even a dent in the roof despite repeated attempts. There are speed limit signs here in Guatemala, but in a country where low literacy rates result in buses needing…

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Winter camping in Nopiming.

Once upon a time, I thought that camping season started on May long weekend. Over the years however, I’ve come to realize that it never really ends. Year by year, each shoulder season excursion I’ve embarked on has pushed a little further against the edges of the calendar – until I ultimately found that late autumn isn’t actually that distant from early spring, and that there really is no off-season in between.

I’ve noticed that a lot of people think I’m …

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Winterpeg.

A blizzard doesn’t arrive with the surprise that it used to. Watching the radar, murmurs of what may be coming are uttered from the lips of weather reporters and citizens alike. Parking bans are set on city streets, pantries are stocked, and commuters set their alarm clocks a little earlier than usual in hope that they will be able to get to work at all.

When the rumoured weather does arrive, there are two choices: seek shelter, or step out into the storm. Personally,…

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  • KareniaMarch 13, 2018 - 8:21 pm

    I particularly like the last photo 🙂ReplyCancel

  • AllisonMarch 19, 2018 - 1:19 pm

    Beautiful! ReplyCancel

In Guatemala – Part two: The coffee farmer on the volcano.

(continued from Part one: The holiest of weeks in Antigua.)

It is dawn. Spiralling upward, a rickety metal staircase presents the first task of the day: climbing up from the kitchen to the rooftop terrace with a full cup of coffee, each step creaking and tentative, and hopefully not losing my precious liquid along the way. As I emerge victoriously to the open air from the shadowy indoor light, the sun simultaneously crests an uneven horizon, casting its first light …

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  • Allison StorsethMarch 5, 2018 - 3:23 pm

    Really enjoyed reading, and learning about co-op coffee producing, and your experience. It’s very exiting to hear that it is improving the quality of lifestyle for the growers as well as the cup of coffee! ReplyCancel

  • PatrickMarch 16, 2018 - 10:06 am

    Awesome story and pics! Love that final portrait. ReplyCancel

In Guatemala – Part one: The holiest of weeks in Antigua.

(continued from Part zero: From here to there.)

Church bells rouse the city in the middle of the night, yet no one is woken. Restless with anticipation everyone is already up and waiting for this exact moment, because this particular April evening is not an ordinary one. The repeated clang of metal on metal rings out from the bell tower’s lofty nest above the city and beckons the community to gather at its feet. There, from the aged doors of the church-front, a formal…

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  • AllisonFebruary 11, 2018 - 10:36 am

    Really enjoyed your story and pictures with my cup of coffee this morning. Amazing how they can make the topic of grief into one of beauty. Life is so short and also so very beautiful. ReplyCancel

  • KareniaFebruary 14, 2018 - 8:24 pm

    How interesting to get a verbal and visual glimpse into this custom. ReplyCancel

In Guatemala – Part zero: From here to there.

A packed backpack leans up against the wall of a tidied apartment; the bed is made, the floors are swept, and the garbage bins have been emptied. The plants stand sentinel, and aside from the occasional visitor letting themselves in to quench their thirst, this place will sit untouched until my dusty boots walk back in to flip the calendar to the next month. When I return to this space that has stayed the same, I will be seeing it with different eyes. After a quick look back,…

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  • CandiceJanuary 15, 2018 - 11:09 am

    Well said!ReplyCancel