From a thin slice of fertile land that extends into the lakes of Lithuania’s southeast, wooden jetties push into the still water dangling narrow fishing boats and colourful pedalos.
A large, friendly zebra carefully took the hand of a small child before looking both ways along a hectic main road. Then, calmly and upright, the pair began to cross to the backdrop of angry horns and revving engines. Once safe, the animal left the child and turned to repeat the process with someone else.
Puno is an unremarkable town in southern Peru. It has some dreary tower blocks, a mall of sorts and, from personal experience, a shabby restaurant on a side street somewhere that cooks amazing fried rice.
“Give me your simplest fish”. I chirped nervously as I rolled onto the leather couch. In a narrow Cusco street I’d decided to get my first, and incidentally, my only tattoo.
I was lost metres from the main road. The midday heat of early May in Croatia’s countryside drenched the material of my heavy backpack, and I started to daydream about passing the afternoon with an icy beer instead.