Change of location...

Hey Chicken Diction fans, I have moved to Wordpress for indiscernible reasons, and soon enough I will have new posts up there to make it even more interesting. To see it, follow this link:

www.chickendiction.wordpress.com

See you there.

matthew

Doors and Windows - Peru.

StarPeru flight into Cusco.

Qoricancha. In Cusco.
Incan walls with Spanish cathedral built on top.

Qoricancha.

Qoricancha.

Sacsayhuaman ruins. Above Cusco.

Sacsayhuaman ruins.

Cusco at night...

So I got back from over two weeks in Peru on Sunday. It was some sort of a crazy whirlwind trip to get back that included a 22-hour bus ride, four airplanes, a night in Los Angeles, sleeping on an airport floor, and a gnarly cold that felt like my throat was about to melt right out of my neck. But now I am back and mostly rested and getting over the cold. This is the first installment of pics from the trip. We spent pretty much all of our time in and around the town of Cusco (elev. 3,300 meters) which was a fabulous little mostly adobe construction town that is a bit overrun by tourists like me, but yet, not like me. Anywhoo, here are some shots at night from the Plaza de Armas.

Pictureless Peru update.

So here we are in Cusco, a quaint little (not so little anymore I suppose) town after hiked five days to Machu Picchu. Here is the update:

Camera broke on the third day of hiking, just in time to have captured the amazing views of Apu Salkantay, the mountain we were beneath at 4,600 meters, and to not capture anything of Machu Picchu with our camera.

Shit evidently does happen.

Machu Picchu while brilliant and amazing is sinking under the weight of tourists like ourselves. There were too many people me thinks to fully enjoy it as people should. I also came down with a bum knee which made it more difficult to appreciate, but we did go up to Wayna Picchu which was spectacular.

I am now walking around Cusco with a cane looking like a mix between Charlie Chaplin and some old man. The knee is taped and I am sucking down ibruprofen regularly. But it seems to be getting better.

No one has gotten really sick. Amazing.

Our hiking group, while still a tourist group, was pretty much fantastic. Four Argentinians, two Spaniards from Basque country, a Canadian, Mari, brother Tshilo, friend Julito, and me. Near permanent laughter and fun ensued. More will probably ensue tonight.

Alpaca is tasty.

That´s all for now. What pictures we have will soon follow.

Peru.

Today I leave for Peru, so who knows what will become of this chicken blog for the next two weeks. So here are some pics from the last time I was in Peru for last xmas. Be well and for those of you in the Sonoran Desert enjoy the sweet smell of creosote and the feel of the monsoons in the air.

Huaraz.

The Way Inn. View from our room.

Me and the dog, Mumbles, at the Way Inn with some lovely mtns in the background.

Sunset in Chaclacayo.

Xmas with our chullos.

Pollo in the market.

Chickens (not technically) in the News! #8

My good friend Johanna lives in Kabul, Afghanistan and sent me these pictures of a cockfight on the streets of Babur. According to her, the roosters don't get hurt, but instead win when the other chicken puts its head down. While I can't speak for all cockfighting in Afghanistan, I am positive that Johanna would not have sent me photos of a bloody all out cockfighting conspiracy in underground Babur. Mostly, you should enjoy the fabulous colors of the chickens. And for those of you interested in learning more about the exciting times and never-mentioned-in-the-media-true-to- life-and-often-very-normal-but-beatiful goings on of Kabul, I suggest you have a look at Johanna's blog. She is a wonderful photographer and amazing storyteller. I think you'll enjoy it.

"The sweet sounds of New Zealand sheep," by Chris Lowen.

My brother is a man of many talents, some seen, and some hidden below layers of skin and bones. Here, while on a recent trip down under, he unmasks his innate talent of impersonations, by mimicking the confused sheep of New Zealand. For those long time readers of Chicken Diction, you will remember his partner in crime and life, Megan and her natural abilities in the area of animal sounds as well. This time it was the lonesome cry of the North American buffalo. If you haven't witnessed her great display of animal mimicry, you should really see both the video of Chris below, and Megan's together, so here is the link. May you all enjoy the wonderful sounds of nature!

Stories from the über-secret sect of boys' weekend.

Every year, me and some guy friends get together at a cabin along the Greenbrier River in the mountains of West Virginia. It's always a bunch of beer, games, competition, and unruliness, complicated by sensitive men, who are mostly married, can cook quite well and look good in flannel. The cabin was built by our friend Micheal and many others out of straw and old timbers, and we like to think that there is never a better time than the long fall weekend that we gather to pretend that we can still play sports like we used to. This year I actually took a first-aid kit and we actually used it. There is much secrecy that surrounds such gatherings and I certainly won't divulge all of the details now, but I have prepared a little photo essay on boys' weekend. This really is the first look into what has previously been kept under tight wraps, so count yourselves lucky to see this...

The top of the lane, where we drank a couple beers waiting for Nick and his four wheel drive to transport us to the "Brier Patch".

The Brier Patch.

Trent on the banjo. Nate and Andrew taking it in.

First we had to mow down the ball field. Andy started us off.

Then we had to sit and drink some more beer.

This is an action shot of Neil hitting a real-live-whiffle-ball- home-run-but-it-depends-on-where-we-drew-the-line-I-guess.

We also played a very competitive game of frisbee golf, while the courageous Phil kept us stocked on beer. This is Nick looking pensively at Hole 7.

Andrew and his own personal style of throwing the disc. (Andrew also makes super cool t-shirts. You should check them out.)

Look how Michael and Phil cook so tenderly while wearing Carharts.

This is how sensitive cabin going men like us eat. (See me sleeping on the couch to the left? I was on breakfast duty.)

Nick enjoying himself. We did lots of this. Enjoying ourselves, not necessarily pointing.

Michael, Phil, and the sunset.

Michael, Nate, Trent.
Phil, Andy, Neil.
Nick, me, Andrew.

The Rincon Mountains.

My friend John is going to be mad. I went without him to the mountains like we planned so many months ago. But I had to. When you have your sights set on a weekend in the woods, and the world seems to be going straight to hell everywhere you look, sometimes you just have to go even though your Philly friend couldn't make it. So I did. I spent the weekend in the Rincon Mountains with my brother and some friends and found a bit of calm that I was otherwise missing. And I came back to my chickens still laying eggs and my veggies getting taller. It was an amazing time high up in the mountains above the haze of Tucson and life. Ponderosa pines for cover, woodpecker alarm clocks, and rock outcropping views of horizons and stars. We saw red-tailed hawks, black bear footprints, and fields of manzanita. Here are some photos from the trip...

In color.

Chris, Megan, Jonathan, and me at the top of Rincon Peak.
Elevation: 8,482 feet.

Prayer flags with our shirts.

The very very top of Rincon Peak.

Chris eating. He did a lot of this.

Megan wearing a real-life-non-hipster-wanna-be John Deere cap.

Jonathan looking European.
I don't know how he does it.

Jonathan and Sarah at Happy Valley Saddle.
Elevation: not quite sure.

Not as bubbly as you might think.

Chris.

The Perry Mason version.

So many trees.

Beware the Yucca monster!

Rincon Peak.
Elevation: same as in color.

Cacti.

Whole lotta me.

Ghost.

Saturday night's lodgings.

Jonathan wanted me to tell you he took this picture.

This one too from atop Spud Rock.
Elevation: cold.

Heading out.

Long live the desert.

Going home.