Nico's Nonsense

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 an...

                                                                                                                      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 t...

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...

                           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...

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 my...