I could, very easily, lose myself in the finca. I could hide amongst the rows of tomatoes, or crawl under a curtain of cilantro. I could lounge with the lettuces and past the time with the peppers. Down in the greenhouses and gardens, it is quiet. The merengue music drifting from the house on the hill is no more than a murmur in the background and the Paisa spanish that steals my concentration, has been silenced. My brain is calm, stimulated by the senses, not by words. And with only a dog or perhaps a merongo to keep me company, I am happy to wander with my camera. To hunt in and amongst the leaves for hidden treasures.