Mayan Riviera Manifesto

Memory believes before knowing remembers. Believes longer than recollects, longer than knowing even wonders.                  – William Faulkner Something was sleeping. Dormant deep inside, coerced into slumber by complacency and the monotony of what is familiar. Like a river dammed by cold hands, energy diverted and devoted to things less beautiful, words cease to flow,…

I got robbed.

I could barely hear the howling. There was too many people. Like a single organism squirming around in it’s own filth. A mass of warmth and bodies writhing and shuddering in an agitated sort of anticipation.  Everywhere a tumult of faces and sound, a thundering drum of feet beating cement, a twisted tribal dance coaxing…

I’m in trouble.

Well not really, but moving to Mexico isn’t going to be easy. It’s not moving to a new place that’s the problem, on the contrary, I couldn’t be more excited to step off that plane into the Mexican sun, no place to stay, with my entire life stuffed into a bag on my back.  It’s…

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An infinity of sunsets

He had loved her.  That he knew.  Fiercely at first, and humbly for the rest of his life.  They had collided in a world that was brand new.  They ricocheted off of one another so intensely and with such speed that the strands of their lives became intertwined immediately, so intertwined that no thread was…

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Tomorow I stop.. but tomorrow

mañana me chanto, pero mañana In my recent post, Gringos can’t dance salsa, I wrote about my inability to dance and referred to some superficial, cheesy, but incredibly catchy tunes that were popular in Chile during my year abroad.  I am writing this post to speak about some real Spanish music.  Specifically, about an awesome band and…

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Viña y Valpo

From out of the breakwater, erupted colour in all directions.  In the midst of the harbour, brightly hued boxes separated and surrounded the cold grey, they outlined the men and machines working among them, and contrasted the squawking sea birds  that circled high above.  Carried by the foam and salt of the seabreeze, colour moved…

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Gringos can’t dance salsa

This is an apology to the woman of Mexico, and the rest of the general population for that matter. I can’t dance. Lo siento mucho. To be fair, I have been known to bust out a killer ‘crank that soulja boy’ after too many cervezas, but let’s get real, no one wants to see that.…