Aventuras de la Zorroluna

Today my Dad and I departed from Santiago Atitlan towards our respective urban destinations: me Antigua, him the Guate airport to head home to California.  Rather than taking the usual pothole express through Chimaltenango, our motorista headed due south into the coastal lands.  Ahhhhh, warmth!   I removed my sweater, and waxed nostalgic for the humid bliss of El Salvador, especially as we passed through that crossroads town with dozens of invidual vendors selling freshly macheted coconuts.  Lucky for me I won't have to pine for too long for the pulgarcito since I"m heading there tomorrow morning! Our motorista dropped me off at the Villa Estela which is on 2a avenida sur, past all the calles, way the hell away from the center of town.  Lucky for all of you reading this blog, the remote location forced me to return home early rather than wandering around town for another few hours, since the p...

Hello again!  This afternoon, as the rains pattered down against the palapa straw roof, I shared a yoga class with 6 lovely students.  Two gringos: Peter and Lucy, who were the first to share with me that they wished to do yoga by the lake.  In the posada, I eavesdropped on the two of them asking Rosalia, a beautiful Kachiquel Maya in a floral blusa and lilac stripped corte, if there were any more yoga classes offered before they left.  Rosalia shook her head, and lamented that she too would have loved to have practiced as well. I couldn't help but spring up and blurt out that I was a yoga teacher and would love to lead a class!  We settled on Las 5 de la tarde.  Rosalia mentioned that she would publicize the class to her network, and let me know if anyone would be showing up. At 4:40, after working up a sweat practicing zumba in my bedroom, I headed down to the stonewalled great hall and saw nobody stretching.  David, the gregarious/swarthy owner ...

Greetings from Antigua Guatemala: city of colonial arches, cobblestone streets, and gut-wrenching income inequality.  These days, from May-October, the sky oscillates between bubblegum blue and charcoal, when the sky opens and showers the streets with torrential messages from above. Every morning, regardless of what country I find myself in, I draw three tarot cards: one for the past, present and future.  Do they tell the truth?  Absolutely, as long as you interpret truth the way  I do.  Which is why I lost no appetite after after drawing the death card for my future with both decks of tarot cards I choose from. In my AfroBrazilian cards, death is the orixa Egum, a red robed puppet walking zombily towards a bonfire.  And with the other deck, of Animal Tarot Cards, death is a vulture with a gnarled beak trampling on a bush of tasty carrion. A future death in Antigua?  Gracias a dios.  If it's the death I'm hoping it is, my obsession wit...