The Mother of Mexican Fiestas
The brassy blast of a trumpet rips me from the embrace of Morpheus.
The brassy blast of a trumpet rips me from the embrace of Morpheus.
While most lakeside inhabitants are accustomed to hearing cohetes de trueno (sky rockets) rip the air as an ordinary element of the auditory landscape, newcomers should brace for being roused from slumber in the early hours of May 3 by a non-stop barrage of the ear-splitting fireworks that herald the celebration of Día de la Cruz (Feast of the Holy Cross).
Here’s a weather story even El Niño couldn’t create.
I’ve been picking up some disturbing scuttlebutt about foreigners behaving badly in our community, making me worry that a few “Ugly Gringos” may give all of us expats a bad name.
I still recall my very first glimpse of Lake Chapala as if it were yesterday.
Last week Jalisco state police collared a fugitive from the United States found to be living in Guadalajara where he worked in a construction materials workshop.
While the Guadalajara Reporter strives to keep readers apprised of accurate news on current events, our writers often confront the foibles of journalism as an inexact science.