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Mexico Notes Christina Nealson

Ten Narrow, serpentine streets. Old world baroque buildings. Steep hills - shoehorned with vivid-colored casas. I have dropped into a spectacular place - a cross between San Francisco and Paris. Journa... read more

The Return Fourteen Christina Nealson

There is the most yellow of yellow butterflies stuck under our windshield wiper. A piece of the sun, moving with us towards the border, flapping in the wind. Journal, June 16 Xilitl... read more

San Blas, Nayarit Christina Nealson

But to me, a dreamer of dreams, to whom what is and what seems are often one and the same, the bells of San Blas to me have a strange wild melody, ... read more

Guanajuato Christina Nealson

Narrow, serpentine streets. Old world baroque buildings. Steep hills - shoehorned with vivid-colored casas. I have dropped into a spectacular place - a cross between San Francisco and Paris. ... read more

12 - La Pena of Bernal And Mexico Magico Christina Nealson

It is like a scene from a Fellini movie. Shrieking laughter of women. French music from a boom box. Chop chop chop of a machete. And we, hunkered down in our sleeping bags. Journal, June 13... read more

Eight - On To Morelia And Patzcuaro Christina Nealson

We get out of town, skipping the tianguis of Ajijic. It was just … time to leave. Journal, June 4, 2003 We pile into the packed car once again. Destination... read more

Mexico Notes Christina Nealson

Ten Narrow, serpentine streets. Old world baroque buildings. Steep hills - shoehorned with vivid-colored casas. I have dropped into a spectacular place - a cross between San Francisco and Paris. Journa... read more

Seven - Ajijic And Lake Chapala Christina Nealson

This place, where people do not say buenos dias , they sing it. Mexican men and women alike. Journal, June 3, 2003 Soon out of San Blas we hit the four-lane ... read more

Xilitla And Las Pozas Christina Nealson

The final three days of our journey raise me above the lather of crowds and traffic. Muse returns, to the swish swish of the Mexico broom. Sweep sidewalks. Sweep streets and and home. Brooms in blue an... read more

Pátzcuaro Christina Nealson

A family with creamy brown skin walks by, holding hands, swinging arms. Laughing aloud. They are arranged like stair steps - father, mother, big daughter and little daughter, who look to be around ages... read more

Eleven - San Miguel De Allende Christina Nealson

The Anglos of San Miguel remind me of the frog that happily swims round and round in a pot of cold water, brought so slowly to a boil, that he doesn't recognize his demise until it's too late. They sti... read more

Alamos Christina Nealson

This morning the church bell rang at 5:15. One lonely ring. A pause. And all hell broke loose. Clang, clang, clang-edy clang. Clang. Clang-edy. Clang. Pause. One ring. No obvious rhyme or reason in thi... read more

Three - Border Crossing Christina Nealson

Across the unforgiving Sierra Madres. There is nothing soft about these mountains, unless you happen upon a view in low light that carries the eye across a widened vista. Journal, Mayo 23 ... read more

One and Two Christina Nealson

Solstice morn. Hot sun on my face. I have been awake since 4:30, Mexico rising to the surface, a wakening jolt of images and smells, not to be forgotten or unwritten. Journal, June 22 ... read more

Introduction To The Series - "Mexico Notes" Christina Nealson

"Pedro" stands in my parent's house, a permanent fixture. He is a concrete, life-size Mexican man, in a loose, dirty shirt and dark, baggy trousers held up with a piece of rope. He leans against a ligh... read more

Mazatlan Christina Nealson

Breathless foam Starfish-laden scaly crest of wave Balloons of stinging jellyfish The crush of birth called beach. Journal, Mayo 27, 2003 ... read more
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