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Passion fruit. Some years ago I spent a week in Puerto López, on the coast of Ecuador. My Italian friend Maura and I would meet each morning for coffee, choose a new beach to visit, buy a bag of passion fruit, and hitch a ride to said beach. We’d head back in late afternoon, sun-dazed and salty-skinned, with a stray dribble of that vibrant juice despite howevermany dips in the sea. In Ecuador, as in the majority of Latin America, the fruit is called maracuyá. But my half-Venezuelan husband calls it—and me—parchita. (photo via maderadecolores)

Passion fruit. Some years ago I spent a week in Puerto López, on the coast of Ecuador. My Italian friend Maura and I would meet each morning for coffee, choose a new beach to visit, buy a bag of passion fruit, and hitch a ride to said beach. We’d head back in late afternoon, sun-dazed and salty-skinned, with a stray dribble of that vibrant juice despite howevermany dips in the sea. In Ecuador, as in the majority of Latin America, the fruit is called maracuyá. But my half-Venezuelan husband calls it—and me—parchita. (photo via maderadecolores)

POSTED Nov 20 2008 @ 15:26
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