Cobán, Verapaz, Guatemala To understand this, you’re going to need a good map. From Todos Santos Bartek and I headed even higher into the Guatemalan altiplano highlands, through endless fog and rocks to a dismal little town called San Pedro Saloma. It took us an hour waiting by the side of the road in Tres[…] See more ⇒

Hola a tod@s, I’m writing from San Cristobal de las Casas, the colonial capital of the Mexican state of Chiapas. Since leaving on the sixth I’ve been following the route that I left off on two years ago: from the Oaxacan coast down to Chiapas. The beach life was good, but the mosquitos are thick[…] See more ⇒

San Cristóbal de las Casas, Chiapas, Mex. “EL CONOCIMIENTO ES UNA NECESIDAD TRAE PAZ Y DIGNIDAD” Hopefully by the time you read this, there should be a new set of dirtyfotos up online. There are several subfolders, be sure to check the bottom of the page. This is thanks to my friend Bartek of Poland,[…] See more ⇒

CHE GUEVARA, EMILIANO ZAPATA AND JESUS H. CHRIST. PRESENTES. Three hours of chicken bus, blasting radio, excessive horn, half pavement, half dirt, half sky, blue diesel thunderclouds hanging over my head, guitar between my knees, trash thrown out the window, climbing out of Huehue shitsville, seventy people in a school bus, three to a seat,[…] See more ⇒

San Cristóbal de las Casas, Chiapas, Mex. What didn’t make it into the last story was exactly where I was staying in Mazunte. First I headed up to this spot called Posada Arquetecto which has a palapa for hanging hammocks overlooking a huge, beautiful beach. It was still on “high season pricing” (Dec. 1 –[…] See more ⇒

Playa Mazunte, Oaxaca, Mexico AND THEN TO THE BOY THE DAYS BEGAN TO PASS AS WEEKS… I was on the bus for hours and hours from D.F. to la costa de Oaxaca, where the beach faces south and the sun dances a long dance of tag with the ocean and always ends up winning. On[…] See more ⇒

I’ve arrived segruro y (mostly) sano again here in el D.F. (Mexico City) on today, el Día de los Reyes. Stories come later.

Caminante, no hay puentes. Se hacen puentes al andar. Gloria Anzaldúa, 1983 Journey on, journeyer. Camine, caminante. In fourteen hours the plane takes to the sky and takes me with it. Back to D.F., back to the bottom of México, picking up where I left off exactly two years ago. I’ve spent the last two[…] See more ⇒