Scott Loftesness
John Flinn writes about one of the joys of travel: escaping your Internet connection and the web.
Down in the Galapagos Islands, on Isla Floeana, a day’s sail south of the Internet cafe on Isla Santa Cruz, there’s a much more romantic way of staying in touch. On the beach in a tiny cove called Post Office Bay sits a weatherworn old barrel, where, since the late 1700s, whalers and visiting sailors have deposited unstamped mail. Anyone en route to a letter’s destination is asked to hand-deliver it, or at least post it when they get home. I left a few postcards there for friends, and every one of them reached their destination — months later, water-smudged and with added comments from the sailors who delivered them.
Still, I think my friends enjoyed them more than an e-mail.
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