October 9th, 2009
No it is not. I am fresh back from visiting a magical valley in Ecuador which is between two flirtatious mountains, locals refer to as “mama” and “papa.” Imbabura, the proper name for the boy mountain, is viewed above, from my lucky host Rami Arim’s desk. Cotacachi, the coquettish —and sometimes snow-capped— object of his affection was in full view from Daphna and Rami’s guest bedroom where I was lucky enough to get to stay.
What with rival mountains on the horizon, as you can imagine, it all got very interesting. A constant swirl of clouds in the valley barely hinted at the drama of their unfolding love story. And oh my gosh, as if that wasn’t drama enough, there is also always the possibility of a volcanic eruption:
There is just no rest for the vacationing storyteller!
Speaking of which this three minute-ish piece about my storytelling activities aired on a local cable show last month— while I was away.
The red polka dotted shirt is the real star of the segment—thank you Ariel for giving me that! And many thanks to Rami and Daphna as well, for generously inserting me—in reality and in this photograph as well—between those two magnificent amorous parental mountains. If this were in Brooklyn I would say this picture was taken at the top of Rami and Daphna’s stoop. But like I said before it is not.