Andes

The mountains in the Himalayas are higher than those in the Andes.

What makes you think the Middle East is more important than the Andes?

Tourists struggle for breath as they climb for two hours to reach the top of a mountain in the Peruvian Andes.

Pachamama is a goddess of earth and fertility revered by the indigenous peoples of the Andes.

As most of the world was warming up between 1910 and 1980, some areas south of the equator near the Andes were actually cooling down, and then afterwards had no change at all until the middle 1990s.

It's the highest mountain in the Andes.

Scientists say they have found a new species of carnivore in the cloud forests of the Andes mountains in South America — the first discovery of its kind in more than 30 years.

This group of musicians from the Andes mountain region of Chile and Peru calls itself Wayno. They play the traditional music of the Andes, using age-old instruments like wooden flutes, guitars, and bells. A variety of musicians, dancers and mimes regularly perform in the subways, playing for tips that help them earn a living while practicing their art.

It's Lulu Island, 3 August 2025. After supper—green figs tender with sunlight, sweet vinegar from yesterday’s pickled jar, and reheated Alfredo—I sat on the balcony and watched the conifer. Stillness below, a street without cars, without haste. My lime water, iced, caught the light. Michael, the Franco-Danish ufologist, has been in my conversations lately. We speak of inner things: the trance of smart devices, the mind’s eye dwindling. He says cafés aren’t cafés anymore. People forget how to look, how to linger. I tell him of Arthur in Japan—how he'd stare into blank walls like a monk gazing at emptiness. Lately I ask machines to speak like poets, and they do. They mimic Elizabethan verses and the old wistful lilt of Tagalog ballads. I pick blackberries along the path to Tim Hortons. "¡Moras!" I shout like a child. My friend Mora, whose blood flows with Andes mist, would smile. Today, I bought lemons. I meant limes, but lemons are all right. / blackberry morning— / a fig's ghost on my fingers / and the street still sleeps

Tom and I both dream of visiting the Andes.