Travels with Rachel: In Search of South America

by George Mahood

My job title was Data Information Officer, which combined three dull words together to make for one exceedingly dull job.

Without any optical instruments, computers or GPS, it turns out these early settlers had already calculated the true middle of the world, simply by observing the sun, shadows and the stars.

‘You can be a real dick sometimes.’ ‘I know. I’m sorry.’

It was at this point that I realised I hadn’t seen a single decent haircut during our whole time in Ecuador. Not one. This is obviously the reason why the majority of South Americans wear hats.

‘Perfecto!’ I said, in that polite British way we respond to all bad haircuts while we quietly sob inside.

These bowler hats were introduced to Bolivia by mistake. A shipment of hats, produced in England, was sent over to the British rail–workers who were stationed in the region in the mid–1800s. The hats were far too small for the men to wear, but rather than get rid of them, they were offered to Bolivian women who were led to believe these hats were all the rage for women in Europe and North America. They have been a prominent part of Bolivian heritage ever since.

we both went to bed angry. Rachel, because she was anxious about my future, and me because I didn’t get my olives.

I knew that I didn’t need a job that would earn me lots of money. I didn’t need a job that would allow me to travel the world. I didn’t need a company car or private healthcare. I just needed something that would stimulate me. Allow me a little creative input, and stop me from wishing away the days between weekends.