In the capital, I met a Guatemalan woman friend in a restaurant as arranged. We spoke with voices low; certain words and acronyms were whispered or scribbled on a piece of paper, then crossed out, as we discussed the current … Continue reading →
In San Lucas Tolimán I visited an orphanage. As a child, I’d always wondered what growing up with many other kids and no parents would be like. This one has about 120 boys and girls from ages 3 to 19. … Continue reading →
In Santiago Atitlán I stayed in a little house loaned to me by its tenant, a young American, while he was away. The house had one room, two wooden sleeping platforms with straw mats for “comfort”, a table and chair, … Continue reading →
I’m so sleepy, but this is such a treat. That’s Orion, almost directly overhead, and the Milky Way is pouring down its blessings on me. I’m snug under my sleeping bag, cushioned by other people’s baggage, the hood of my … Continue reading →
As soon as I descended from the bus, I was surrounded by a half-dozen beautiful, charming teenage girls in the richly embroidered multicolour huipiles (blouses) of Nebaj, long red cortes (skirts) with thin gold stripes, and wide embroidered belts which … Continue reading →
“Rio Azul – where the people and the army work together,” the sign said. We were four squeezed into the cab of a cigarette distributor’s truck. My Swiss friend and I were taking advantage of the drive in order to … Continue reading →
My horse managed the last switchback of the steep narrow rocky trail, and stopped to look at the view – or to let me look while his black sides heaved in and out. Below us was a valley in the … Continue reading →
First impressions of Guatemala: You go through the border, trying not to pay more money than necessary to the various officials, who have many tricks to make you pay, and climb into the bus. Then the movie starts: the hills … Continue reading →
On my return to Mexico City, I picked up my camera and finally left what had begun to feel like home, so much so that I would accidentally refer to Guadalajara as “Montreal”. The 17-hour bus ride to San Cristóbal … Continue reading →
While my camera was being repaired in Mexico City, I went to Zipolite, near Puerto Angel on the Pacific coast south of Oaxaca, for a week. I basically had a non-productive Good Time. I met various existentialists, rebels, wanderers and … Continue reading →
