Days of doom, night of splendor
There’s been so much doom and gloom in the news these days that I began falling into a dark funk.
The Guadalajara Reporter
Guadalajara's Largest English Newspaper
The Guadalajara Reporter
Guadalajara's Largest English Newspaper
There’s been so much doom and gloom in the news these days that I began falling into a dark funk.
What label to you attach to the land area bordering Mexico’s largest lake? Most English-speakers call it “Lakeside,” a simple and fitting description. The waters muddy when it comes to Spanish terminology.
As folks in Ajijic are buzzing about the prospects of gaining Pueblo Mágico status, news is just out that San Miguel de Allende has been ranked number one in Travel + Leisure magazine’s 2016 list of Latin America’s best cities and third out of 15 on the worldwide roster.
In the late 1990’s, when Lake Chapala’s shoreline had receded nearly a kilometer beyond the town pier, I heard there were two schools of thought on rescuing Mexico’s largest lake from certain doom.
Dawn breaks after a steady, night-long rain. As rose-hued clouds lift from horizon, the sun emerges in a clear azure sky. Mountain hillsides glisten, lush with emerald green foliage.
A recent email message from a reader brings up a sore subject previously addressed in this space. The irate Ajijic resident wrote:
A furtive mouse became our family’s big cheese this week. I’m talking about El Ratoncito Pérez, a.k.a. el ratón de los dientes, the mythical character of Spanish-speaking countries, equivalent to the Tooth Fairy of fond childhood memory.