Tuesday, December 21, 2010





Thursday, December 16, 2010

Advertising on Nico's Nonsense



Would you like to advertise on Nico's Nonsense in the upcoming year?  2011 spots are now available, and I would love to work with you! My page is ideal for merchandise sellers, small businesses, bloggers, shop owners, photographers, artists, designers and much more! Your advertisement would be displayed on my blog under Nico's Notables.
Email for more information at seenicoseetheworld at hotmail.com


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Tuesday, December 14, 2010

Days like you.



Ernesto mi querido,

       Do you remember those few nights we'd spent in Cancun? Like honeymooners, like lovers, like best friends. Laughing the past few horrible days that were behind us away. Diving down towards an endless sea. Laying lazily underneath the fiery Caribbean sun, singing and howling, dancing and falling in love. The mornings were ours to waste away in each others arms, the nights; spent listening to the waves' resentment. Our last night together you'd left a single red rose at the foot of my bed. Sheets all tucked away quietly; you and your smug smile greeting me cheerily knowing I'd seen it. Knowing I'd felt the same way. Though we both knew we were to part soon. To return back to reality. Ernesto those lazy mornings and endless nights are all I think of, they seem almost mythical now. Like a dream, and waking up is a nightmare. I long for days like those again. Days like you.

                                                                                                  Aeida


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Sunday, December 5, 2010

He knows who he is.


.
Neither with you nor without you; 
not with you because you kill me,
nor without you because I'd die.



Saturday, November 27, 2010

Caminos Entrelazados or Intertwined Paths.


Part 3

       Early next morning I am awoken by the sun, quietly sneaking up upon the spiteful hills. As I sat there on the blistering edge of the the bottom bunk, I sprung up in anticipation,as the bed let out an awful cry. I decided that I would go in search of what I came for. Paraiso, as Romero has, and in deciding this, I got this feeling in the pit of my stomach, excitement, anticipation,and  fear. A feeling that makes you want to burst out laughing and break down crying, all at once.

I'm startled by Ernesto's footsteps walking in the room with two mango's in his hand he asks "Breakfast?"

I smiled as I grabbed a mango. "I know that look" he said as he bites into his mango, subtly  puncturing the soft of the skin, absorbing every bud of taste it had to offer, as if this were the last mango he would ever eat. I am distracted and have heard nothing of what he's said.

"Huh?" I question

"Where to today?" He pries

"Oh, I don't know..." I lie

"Paraiso?" He chuckles, and it's as if he's read the most inter-depth of my soul, it's as if I am standing there naked in front of him, in front of all of Chamula.


Tulum.MX

       We had decided on a place Romero had gone on and on about the night before. A place he called paradise, a place everyone else knew as Tulum, Mexico. We packed our things and  had forsaken Chamula, in hopes of a flawless Tulum. The ride over had been gruesome, there were chickens, dogs, and even a small pig that took passenger. I still laugh at the site of Ernesto and I sharing a seat, because a chicken next to him had left a caca on his seat. With Ernesto asleep on my shoulder, and the animals finally at ease, I pondered, why I'd fallen so hard, for a man I'd hardly even knew. All my life, I believed not in love at first sight. "Fools" I'd mock as I passed couples so lost in each others beings. And yet here I stood, a hypocrite, a pharisee of sorts. I wanted to be near him always, I wanted to know him, inside and out, I wanted to know the wrinkles in his long slender fingers. the anguish beneath his eyes and the covert arc upon his lips.

And just as my hypocrisy began to amplify, the bus jolted to a halt, and there we were, in paradise. As Ernesto and I are getting off the bus, he stops everything he's doing and turns around and kisses me. A moment that makes me feel like punching him, though I kiss him back instead. Our first kiss. With the scent of pigs breath lingering in the air, and an elbow poking into my side, I am in complete shock, felicity and anguish all at once.

                                                 
                                          I am in paradise.

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Monday, November 22, 2010

The Great.

Lay my head on the sober of his chest
Rest my hand in the tender of his
Kiss the firm of his chin
 No longer head west
 I've fallen in love
And he hasn't a clue
It's only because he reminds me of you

Monday, November 15, 2010

Giza.

I am sitting on the bus. The roads here, aren't paved, it's been a harsh and enduring ride, my head, resting against sweat stained windows, my eyes closed, though I'm not asleep. I am partaking in this moment, this dream. A day I have dreamed of since I was eight years old. And since, this is all I've ever really wanted. No luxurious cars, dazzling diamond rings, or white picket fences.

                       


I hear faint voices of fellow passengers, talking amongst themselves, tourists mostly, excited an anticipating our destination. As I am. And suddenly the bus jolts to a stop, I open my eyes as we pull in through wooden gates, where guards have let us pass. We're finally here.  My heart races,though I hesitate in getting up, this all seems so terribly unreal, and if it is I hope to never wake. Two women push their way out the door, and I follow, still hesitant.  One foot in front of the other I think, stepping down the rickety, worn steps. With dirt crunching beneath my feet and the smell of camel droppings lingering in the air, a sudden silence falls over the moment. I look up, to see the reason for such silence. And at this one moment tears begin to start streaming down my cheeks, and I'm am unaware of it until I taste a salty reminder, on the crest of my lips. A sight so unfathomable, you can't capture it's true justice through photos, or even words. I am in complete awe, and I don't want to move, speak or even breath. I want time to stop in its tracks, because this, is absolute beauty, absolute happiness, success, clarity and disarray.
My life feels so...I can't even form words to explain...





Then I hear it. Reality questions "Excuse me Miss, isn't this your stop?" My focus is gone, I turn to realize where I really am, on the bus...to school that is.


Monday, November 8, 2010

A year of silence.


A year of silence that kept us apart
Though I've scoured the words to get into your heart
Brittle and unpromising
I'm am left torn apart 
And tell you not of the flame 
I have long kept contained
In a small, plastic Tupperware, kept under my bed
I wait for your answer
To a question unsaid

Caminos Entrelazados or Intertwined Paths.



Part 2
                                                                                                      
     As Ernesto and I arrive in Chamula, we see endless street markets, towering cathedrals and chickens running a muck all around. The colors, sights, and smells seem to conquer my senses, and in submission of them, I am lead to a discreet little table, gluttoned with pan dulce. Every color, taste and flavor imaginable, little ones, medium ones and big, big, big ones. Ones shaped like plump watermelon slices, beefy little piggies, and silly looking ones that were lumpy and ugly all over, but tasted like home, like a memoir almost. My stomach bellowed for them all, though instead I bought one for Ernesto and I to share, I'd share my entire being with that man if I could, if he'd let me. 
I continue on to catch up with him.

I found Ernesto talking politics and sharing drinks with a local gentleman, a man who reminded me of my grandfather, both wise and demented, old in appearance, but young inside. I laugh at the thought of Ernesto in the heart of such a beautiful place, with money in his pocket, and a beautiful woman at his side, yet Ernesto spoke politics to the indigenous. This is why I love him, why I call him mine.
                                                     Ernesto, unlike the other men.

After discussing politics and stuffing our faces, with pan dulce, we head to our hostel to check in, and in exchange for 70 pesos (about 5 USD) we are taken to a room teeming with bunk beds and fellow tourists. The mattress, stained a yellowish brown and half the size of the bed itself, the room tangs of a hippies underarm, and there is one restroom to share amongst the ten of us.
                                 "This is living it up, Aeida!" Ernesto joked
                             "Sure is!" I announced as unpack to take a shower

 Ernesto and a fellow roommate awaited me, as I depart the shower. I later got to know this stranger as Romero, a man so tall I felt ashamed standing next to him, a face so perfectly sculpted, it was unfair really, short muddy brown hair, daunting hazels eyes and a smile so embracing that with just one smile I'd felt like I'd known him all my life. Romero had been migrating from Oaxaca, in search of "paraíso" he said...paradise, I understood. His English seemed to be just as horrid as my Spanish, so we got along well, with Ernesto as our interpreter of course.


Though I never could remember too much from that night, I remember Romero convincing us to  split a taxi to a nearby town, where he said some friends of his were having a party. I had remembered this one instance when Romero, a girl with a peace sign painted on her face and myself had walked down the street to get more ice, and as we were walking back, each of us, with a bag of ice in our hands, Romero inquired "What you come Mexico for?"

I throw a confused smile his way "The beauty I suppose"

"Ahh, okay I see, pues,a dónde vas manana?" (Where will you go tomorrow?)

"Yo no se" (I don't know) seemed to be the simplest route to the end of the conversation.

Though the truth was, I had absolutely no idea where I was going, or when I would stop going. I had left my life back in California, my job, school and my family. In search of something beautiful, something breath taking,something worth living for. And yet there I was, unsure of where I would go next. Though I believe that was the beauty of it, I had the world at hand.

Romero looked at me confused with only three words to say as he rested his hand on my shoulder in comfort
"Seguir tu corazon"

 My vocabulary had not yet broadened to this level, I looked at him confused.

"Follow your heart" the girl with the peace sign painted on her face explained.

These are the first words she had spoken all night,  and I will remember this moment always.

Sunday, November 7, 2010

In search of

She wandered aimlessly through the bookstores aisles
 In search of him
 A shirt, a hand, a shoe even 
Yet found nothing
 No one
Not even a scent to hold onto

Sunday, October 3, 2010

Caminos Entrelazados or Intertwined Paths.

                                                             
                                                      Part 1

We’d met in el mercado, a small one, right in the heart of Chiapas, Mexico. The one on Guyava St.  just  across from the Library. Both of us marveling at the beauty of a Country that wasn’t  our own. Though the color of our skin, made us seem to fit in. Indigenous almost.
I was there in search of a scarf to compliment the dress I’d bought there the previous day.
“El Amarillo." (the yellow one) he whispered as he passed.

Just the sound of his voice, like the first strum of a guitar, the last dance at a wedding, brings chills to my entire being, even to the innermost depths of my soul.
I turn and his smile meets mine.  A bit crooked, but welcoming. Familiar, and stranger all at once. Like leaving home, like coming back and starting all over again.
Like breathing for the first time. Like being in a place the last time.

"Have we met?" I ask, even though I know we haven’t, I would’ve remembered those eyes.
So rich of a brown they almost looked black, like an endless pit, a place of  guile, a place of refuge.
With hair so thick and lush of a brown, I contemplated running my hands through it, a nose more like a beak, and hands so dense yet vulnerable. In this one, mere moment, I couldn't help but fall in love.
“Not quite yet” he continued, as his hand reached out from the inner depths of his coat pocket.
“I’m Ernesto, and you are?”
“Aeida” I shyly proclaimed
“Ahh,  Eres tourista?” He asked
“ Si, Si, y  tu?” I reply in my white washed Spanish
He replies yes, and seems to tell me his life story all in one sentence, all in a language I hardly understood.
“Ehh, no nintendo mucho espanol?” I stupidly answered, as he laughed at me.
 A laugh, that sounded  more like a hiccup. A laugh that became my getting through the day, my getting through the nights. The nights with him, but mostly the nights with out him.
Oh Ernesto, sometimes I wish you’d never have come up to me in the market that lazy afternoon.
Sometimes I wish I would have just told you to go away, to go bother some other hopeless damsel in distress.
 Mindlessly, I grab  the  chivalry of your palm, as you reach out and ask me to dinner.
I accept, and we become a love story that was not. With only time to kill and adventure to chase.




 Early the next morning during coffee, we decide to stick together and headed off to a small indigenous village in Chiapas called Chamula. Instead of taking a taxi, like any sane human being would, we walk. Thinking it's only so far away, we realized we were wrong. Walking down an endless highway with our luggage on our backs, and our hands intertwined, I supposed we looked like rebels, It was us against the world. We would not succumb to paying a whole eight dollars and change for a simple taxi ride to the next village over.

Ernesto notices I'm getting weary and shouts "Come on Aeida, wave your arms like this, it helps!" as he flapped his arms like a bird.

Almost angelic it seemed. He and I, walking in the blistering Mexican sun flapping our arms like pigeons. Like fools.

Tuesday, September 28, 2010

Nine Again.

Today, I want to be nine again. I want to live life without consequence, live life in utter fulfillment.
I want to play in the rain, laugh at the silliest of things, and color outside the lines.
I want a milk mustache, a chocolate one preferably, I want to hula hoop until my legs fall off, and run barefoot through the leafy green grass.




Ah, to be nine again. To let loose, minus the insecurities, to fall in love with the boy who eats the sandbox sand, the one who likes the way the glue feels peeling off the tips of his fingers, and is king of the tether ball court.
To be friends again, and not cliques.
To jump rope, to hand ball, and giggling at the boys and their cooties, to overcoming hopscotch and your ultimate fear of dodge ball.
To come home to moms homemade "pasghetti"
To cartoons and clouds, endless adventure and curiosity
To sisters and brothers and cousins.
To Bonnie and Clyde in the back yard, to club houses and blanket forts made out of chairs, brooms and vacuums 
  To Sega and Nintendo, to Easter Egg Hunts and eating at the kids table, to tree climbing and bone breaking.
              To losing and winning, laughing and crying and to mom who made it all better with a kiss.
                                                                 To be nine again.

Monday, September 27, 2010

Submission.



                                I abide in the presence of a King.
One whose beauty and devotion is unfathomable to even the wisest of men. One who is there even in my most unfortunate of times, one who sees merit in my imperfections, and promise where despair dwells. I serve He who is greater than I, He who is greater than any. As I fall to my knees in reverence, He lifts me upright, my Messiah, my Redeemer... my Beloved. I am shown each day the glorious plans you've set aside for me, Oh Lord I pray that I am adamant, and continuous in your word, in this life. For this world is fleeting, as is all that resides. I grovel at the feet of my King, surrender all that I am, and all that I hunger. Make me like you oh King of Kings.

Tuesday, September 21, 2010

More than an outbreak.

            

              Isla Mujeres, Quintana Roo; a place of beauty, a place of happiness, but most importantly, a place of love. In coming to the municipal, little island, located off the northeast coast of the Yucatán Peninsula, I expected nothing short of a tourist trap.  A place only interested in the money in my pocket, they sure proved me wrong. Arriving in mid-April, my first task was to find a cheap, clean hostel, right in the heart of the island itself.  A fellow traveler I’d met earlier that week, in Cancun suggested a place named;  Pocna Hostel.   
“It’s good price” he told me, in his broken English.
I was on a budget, so I budged. Walking in, I was greeted by cheery foreigners like myself at the service desk, given sheets, a pillow, and a sleek red wristband that read “Mi casa en el Caribe” I thought nothing of it at the time. My goal in coming to the island was simply a resting stop, between Cancun and Chitzen Itza (our next destination.) My first night on the town included; mingling with tourists, and foreigners alike, at the hostel’s beach bar. That night I’d met people from all over the globe, every religion, nationality and color. It was refreshing, I thought, though my goal was not refreshing, it was breathtaking, adventurous and romantic.


                                Chitzen Itza.

What could be more romantic than Chitzen Itza’s towering pyramids? The ancient stories still lingering in the air, and the ground beneath. I got tickled just thinking of it. Waking up the next morning, in hopes of leaving the island to Chitzen Itza, I heard raindrops, trickling down the sides of my tents polyester rooftop. I was stuck; the ferry back was closed until the rain wore down. I remember stepping out of my tent, angry and bitter at the weathers timing.  As I felt warm rain drops trickle down the tip of nose, my anger seemed to dissipate, and I become relaxed and at peace.  I head over to the hostel’s dining area, where toast and coffee are complimentary, and the news is playing on the television. Everyone seems so glued to the headliner story, I get my coffee and join them.
Swine Flu outbreak across Mexico and U.S., the television projects, my initial thoughts are
 “Oh no, I ate pork last night.” 
 As the story goes further on I laugh off my ridiculous initial thoughts, the news begins to describe the outbreak as pandemic and that any trips into Mexico should be cancelled, and tourist who were there now should book the soonest flight home, after decontamination, of course. Panic began to form in the faces of my Hostel mates. The locals seemed to simply shrug it off, and go about their daily routine. The rains wore down, and the warm Caribbean sun returned to its rightful place in the sky.  Coming back to the Hostel, that night, everyone simply seemed to have disappeared. More and more left each day it seemed, with a few trickling in here and there, I decided going home was out of the question, and leaving to Chitzen  Itza was just too risky. It was Isla Mujeres or bust. 


Isla. Mi querida. 
      
Early each morning I’m awoken by the sounds of the bongos playing in the distance, a cold shower and a warm cup of coffee.  During the afternoon’s peak, the remaining of us flock to the beach, lounging in hammocks and basking in the sun’s glory, letting the drift of the waves carry us off.  My nights are spent by the beach bar, dancing with the locals, singing terribly off key, and laughing at absolutely nothing.  We become no longer local and tourist, we simply become, family, a part of the island and all its entirety. Life itself seemed entirely worth living.  I fall in love…with a place and the people residing, because for that moment, I simply enjoyed life.


             I came to realize that in searching for breathtaking, adventurous and romantic elsewhere, I’ve found it here, right in front me the whole time.  And what seems like only a week, is really a month, the shortest month of my life, it seems. Soon enough the swine flu, wears down and It’s time to depart. I have only a week left of my travels, and as much as I want to stay stuck in this beautiful cycle, I know there is much more beauty to be seen and laughter to be had elsewhere. And in leaving Isla Mujeres, I come to realize that in making the decision to stay on the island during the Swine Flu epidemic, as opposed to running home, I came to experience something that not many will ever experience in a whole lifetime. I experienced life with the innate, with the truly genuine, and truly loving.

                        Isla Mujeres, Quintana Roo, undoubtedly became “Mi Casa en el Caribe.”
                                                           My home in the Caribbean.

Sunday, September 19, 2010

Destination sleep.


It's nearly 4 am. My mothers home is completely silent. All that is heard are the sounds of the clock ticking, and my fingers pounding the keyboard's keys. It's nearly 4 am, why am I even awake? Curse you late night coffee cravings! How I loathe you, and love you dearly...


 My eyelids are starting to get heavy, and the sun starting to peer through the cracks of the Western Hemisphere.I've come to realize that staying up this late, or early (depending on which way you see it) is simply no good. It's trouble I tell  you. You think reading about it's bad? My unwilling awakeness (yes I know that's not a  real word) has driven me across this lonely planet.  Literally, to  lonelyplanet.com. I find myself perusing through South America, Egypt, then finally Laos.


                                   Laos. My love.



 My secret dream destination. I catch myself there for what seems like an hour, but is probably more. In awe of the beauty captured in one single snapshot. I picture the post photo scenes, I picture the hostels and the people occupying them, laughing, dancing, sharing their adventurous tales, and falling in love. Without a worry in the world. The article I'm reading which you can find here http://www.lonelyplanet.com/laos ends like so "After all, half the fun of traveling here is in the travel itself – the people you meet, chickens you share seats with, wrong turns you take and lào-láo you drink with the smiling family at the end of the road less traveled."  Oh the adventures that have yet to come, I think, I smirk, then feel like a complete fool because,  I'm awake at 4 am perusing through photos of  Laos, while the world sleeps. Fool indeed.

My attention then becomes drawn to a pop-up 'Book cheap flights today!' It proclaims. They had me at cheap. Where to first? Laos, Cairo, Nicaragua perhaps? I feel daring today, and I chose Laos. One way please. And I'll be leaving mid-November, thank you! 'Searching for your flight' the site cheerily states, it configures up a whopping 1300 USD. "Oh yeah real cheap!" I mutter. My hopes drop and my mouse clicks out.

                                          Tomorrow night, I'll go to bed early.