the golden cow

One of the world's most beautiful breeds of bovine roams freely between the borders of Northern Portugal and Galicia. The Barrosã with its distinctive lyre-shaped horns, has a Denominação de Origem Controlada status, or Protected Designation of Origin, under the European Commission. Much like the names of Gorgonzola, Champagne, and Armagnac, this breed can only be called Barrosã if it is born and raised in this particular part of Portugal. Its meat is highly regarded, and a source of regional pride.

Until the second half of the 20th Century, Barrosã bulls were communal; each village owning one, which was cared for collectively. Festivals were held to bring the bulls of each village together, which would lock horns in a fight to determine the strongest male, who would win the right to breed with the cows. These festivals, known as Chega de Bois, still take place in Northern Portugal, though these days the bulls are seldom collectively owned.



Their golden coats and twisted horns reminded me of Ancient Egyptian idols— Hathor incarnate, reclining in the grass. Beautiful beasts, unimpressed by the little human in the green kerchief who desperately wanted to pet or draw them.



Last photo taken by Inês P. and Mia G. — Muito obrigada!

scenes from the beginning

of The Great Anatolian Road Trip.

cowwatching

forty-two days

I spent forty-two strange and wonderful, at times aggravating, days in Nepal. Typing on a computer again feels odd, and last night was the first night I slept the whole night through since I left Istanbul in June. Every night in Kathmandu was a new story in noise: from metallic sweatshop tapping to howling cats, to trumpeting and cymbal crashes from monasteries— the latter seems charming and exciting the first night, when you are still convinced you will be able to tune it out like the azan.

There were leeches, bedbugs, mosquitoes, and other blood-sucking horrors. At times my patience hung on such a thin tether— but then there were the kids. The wonderful kids at Shree Mangal Dvip, my dear art students, my reason for returning each year.

I didn't do much drawing this summer, but I did take around two thousand photos. Forty-two days go by really quickly, and it feels as though I just came out of a long dream. I'm foggy-headed and a little disoriented (I have phantom sensations of something crawling over my feet every now and then), and I have a massive pile of stinky clothes to wash.

Stay tuned.

heading south

images of lumbini

the stupa and the cow

trains, pastries and cows