No llores porque se ha acabado. Sonríe porque sucedió.

February 15, 2012 at 4:54 pm

Don’t cry because it’s over.  Smile because it happened.

- anonymous


February 5, 2012 at 12:57 am

Grillos, Chapulinas, however you fry them, no matter how much chili you sprinkle on them, they are still crickets. Or grasshoppers. A delicacy I have yet the guts to try.

They just drop them in oil, live, I was told. Oh. I guess it’s like lobster. But they hop. And, they’re bugs. I will try anything. But this one I had to pass on.

A delicacy in Mexico, and especially on the streets of Oaxaca. You’ll see thousands of fried grasshoppers in chili and lime, being sold in the market every day, fresh. Maybe next trip (and that’s a big maybe).

CRICKETS CRICKETS Grillos, Chapulinas

Christmas Day, Mexico DF

February 5, 2012 at 12:52 am

Got up that morning, the day was fresh, sunny and cool.  I was on my way to Starbucks and, passing by a church, I decided to pop in.  

I sat with others in silence, as people came and went.  

Feelings of guilt and sadness and missing my family were trumped by feelings of freedom, relief, independence. 

I had flashbacks of Spain, being in the same climate, in a church or cathedral, feeling lonely but content.  The changing point (Spain) in my life that I at first dreaded, then loved/hated, then never for a minute regretted.

I also had flashes of being in Berlin and the blog post I wrote about feeling free, completely relieved of shoulds and demands, and liberated from technology.

When I have flashes of images from other times and places, I recognize that the feelings are similar – not just that I am reminded of those times, but more importantly, they remind me of the feelings that they brought me.

The crisp, fresh, morning when I was walking down the road in Hovland with Aunt MaryBeth, when I felt so privileged that she asked me to join her on her morning walk.  Or when we went to Grand Marais to the laundromat.  The air was crisp, the sun shining, the seagulls (or seagles as I used to spell at the time) hanging out looking for food.  These times, with the weather being similar, remind me of feelings of happiness.  Pure joy and happiness.

As I sat there in the church I thought about these things.  And I recognized that although I was sad, and felt guilty, for not being at home, that I was feliz.  Mucha alegria.  Lagrimas of some sadness, some joy.  I was completely anonymous, nobody in the world at that moment would have had any idea where I was or what I was doing.  I was hidden within the walls of the church, within the city of Mexico.  Anonymous, happy, free.