I return to Antigua to recharge, remember, rediscover, and to discover. When you leave, a part of you, a real presence remains. A tree seen from distant angles of perspective is my metaphor for my life past and present in Antigua, Guatemala. When I first moved to Antigua, Guatemala in 2008, my view from my…
I have a mysterious problem with my pants that makes very little sense to me or anyone I question. Other people’s pants seem to degrade in various ways. Holes in the knee, frayed ends, a broken zipper—these are the usual symptoms that takes people’s pants out of commission. During my question of people I discovered…
I am playing the best pool of my life. Not once, in four games tonight did I cause the cue ball become airborne and jump over the f-cking rail of the third floor loft of an Assisi bar, falling three stories below into the dinner of an displeased Italian man capable of wild hand gesturing…
Say what anyone will about Guatemala, no one can dispute the fact that the country’s pants are stuffed with avocados. Avocados are to Guatemala what people are to China—they are everywhere in absurd abundance. They are so abundant that people nicknamed Guatemalans living in Antigua green bellies for the inordinate amount of avocados they eat…
New York could have been San Francisco. It was almost Portland, and there was a possibility it was going to be Minneapolis. At the time there was also a barely articulated inkling that I should buy a one-way ticket to Asia. Timing is always everything. When we listen closely to that inner voice that…
The following is a bit of prose I wrote in March on an overnight bus ride from Kenya to Uganda. Sometimes it’s the means of transportation that connects, as my thoughts jumped to three years earlier, when I was on an overnight bus on the other side of the continent, Morocco and them meandered from this to…
My brother and I were in Kenya walking back from the Lake Victoria to the town of Kisumu having a blast saying, “What’s up,” to people who crossed our path in their tribal tongue of Luo. Titus was a boy who had started walking with us as an impromptu guide and he taught us how to say…
How am I? I am fine. Thank you. How are you? How am I? I am fine. How am I? I am peachy. Fine! Good! Wonderful even, and a bit tired of the whole world asking me this question. But I think I might miss the ubiquitous question of “Hello. How are you?” asked often…
I’m wary of using superlatives. Especially in writing. It’s why if I ever get married, the guy who gives a slurred speech at the reception will be refereed to as my “Awesome Man.” Awesome: a modifier that praises without establishing an hierarchy.We must agree, it’s an awesome word. HOWEVER: I have zero qualms about referring to the following as the best game to play with a hostel full…
