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 →
I’ve been in Guadalajara (Mexico’s second biggest city) for a week and a day, immersed in Spanish with the multiple and multiplying family of my Montreal Spanish tutor. I’m trying to push the limits of my knowledge of the language … Continue reading →
I knew I was in Mexico the minute I crossed the border. It was as if the U.S. had dug this river, the Rio Grande, to keep the Third World out. Paint and plaster peeled off the walls of the … Continue reading →
