Monthly Archives:
August 2018
A lot of people compare San Cristobal de las Casas to Guanajuato and there are strong opinions on both sides. Until last week, I’d never been to San Cristobal so I couldn’t weigh in, but now that I have I can say that I’m very glad that Guanajuato is my home. That’s not to say that San Cristobal isn’t a really cool place. It is. It’s beautiful. It reminds me of the higher altitudes in Colorado. But ...
The ever-changing landscape of which boys I like and why is a constant source of excitement, terror, and doubt for me all at the same time. Up until relatively recently, I’d say that one of my primary criteria for boys was appearance; I particularly liked Nordic guys (or the ones who looked Nordic, anyway). And although I can’t say that I’m not attracted to the whole tall-blonde-blue-eyed thing anymore, I ...
I love to write, but I struggle to accept that I’m a writer. Or that I’m anything. I want to be more than a writer. Or not just a writer. I love to travel. So I guess I'm also a traveler. Sometimes I've been other things too, I suppose. Movement and transition is a form of stability for me. I want to live everywhere and try everything I can. I want to live out a whole lifetime in every country or at least ...
This video was captured downtown at the bus stop in front of Del Sol (a department store) in Guanajuato Capital. About 5 minutes before I started filming, runners started coming down the street in hordes like in this video. It took place shortly after 9pm (a strange time for a race, if I do say so myself). The winners came from the other direction on the same street about 10 minutes later. ...
Many years ago, in China, I stumbled across a Japanese woman who’d evacuated her home country due to the nuclear meltdown that was going on there at that time. She was sitting in a park with her daughter when we crossed paths and she and I sat while her daughter taught my daughter how to use a Chinese yo-yo. This woman and I shared very few common words but I had a pad of paper and somehow, I don’t remember ...
What am I doing?
I ask myself this question probably at least 10 times every day with a degree of desperation so high that I have to force myself to dismiss the question or risk insanity. Sometimes, the sum of my dismissals comes out in an emotional breakdown of circular thoughts that lead nowhere. I start in one place, and end up right back where I started. And that place that I circle ...
I ask myself this question probably at least 10 times every day with a degree of desperation so high that I have to force myself to dismiss the question or risk insanity. Sometimes, the sum of my dismissals comes out in an emotional breakdown of circular thoughts that lead nowhere. I start in one place, and end up right back where I started. And that place that I circle ...
We’re not jungle people. Yes, there was a time when I cultivated fantasies of building a tree house in an extremely isolated place like a rainforest, that was before I’d actually been to a rainforest. Now, having racked up at several months of my life in various jungles in different parts of the world, I know better than to think that I could live with the ants, the mosquitos, and the general sense of chaos ...
I’m not sure what this story is about. Is it about the drive between Guanajuato and San Cristobal de las Casas? Or is it about biomagnetism and how to cure a disease with a couple of magnets? Or is it about how workshops in Mexico suck a little in terms of interactivity and hands-on learning?
I could talk about Julian, the fellow who sat in front of us, giddy to chat about ...