I had the good fortune, a few weeks ago, to travel to the Galápagos. On my way back through Ecuador, I was still overflowing with the wellbeing of a week spent at sea with a sympathetic group of people. We had swum with sea-lions and stood entranced by the attacks of the frigate birds on the boobies. Our animated conversation had combined culture, biology, politics. It was a week of self-realisation for a small group that had chosen to be together – a sort of ritualised enjoyment of rich-world, 21st-century freedoms. It did not feel like trivial touristic escapism; everyone there had a life-defining ...
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