All Roads Lead to Mitla

“Necessita fumar," I tell my kidnapper. I don’t even know if I am saying it right or making sense, but figure he will understand as soon as I fish a Marlborough Light out of my daypack and light it up. He nods and motions for me to open a window. I can’t tell you his … Continue reading All Roads Lead to Mitla


A Broken Pot of Mayonaysa

“Come to Sisal.” I insisted. “You’ll see real Mexico there and it will be way cooler,” I promised. I have never been to Sisal, and the students that had gone the previous year had not filled me in on the place. But I assumed that if Woolman Hill was going, it had to be fantastic.