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Villa del Carbón – a weekend at the ranch outside of the Valley of Mexico..

Where to go, what to visit? Between searching online, or asking people for tips on where to go, what places to visit, there are always an unlimited amount of suggestions that come up.
Depending on who we would ask, of course, we would either get the “High Society, Mister!” answer of our richest of the rich mirreyes (lit. ‘my kings’, as kids flaunting richness are mockingly called) students with spas, theme-parked resorts, and bea-uuuu-tiful shopping malls, the most extensive holiday cabins with private golf courts (well, maybe not that), jacuzzis (probably), and not even realise you’re in unique place A, B, or C in Mexico…

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El Día del padre, the anecdote

El día del padre – father’s day, it never was anything we’d celebrate, ever. My primary school had me decorate a tile for mother’s day, draw something for father’s day, things I can only vaguely remember. I feel in Holland, father’s day, mother’s day, valentine’s day, are all treated with the same down-to-earth approach summarized in one word:


Oh, and one gesture.


I guess there are enough other days, not dictated by companies, when you can spontaneously (or whenever you feel like it) express your appreciation. And that might as well entail more days than just that one imposed day-of-reminder a year. How things are different in Mexico.

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3. Rumbo mi país

Voy rumbo mi país. Regreso a mi país. Sólo para visitar, para ser turista con mi novia. No obstante, la pinche verdad, le visitaré por la primera vez desde hace 2.5 años y no voy con toda alegría. No por dejar al DF con sus nieblas tóxicas, que siempre me calientan el corazón; tampoco voy…

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2. El sueño

Era un sueño. No sabía si ella disfrutaba la noche verdaderamente, pero parecía bien comodo. Puso mi brazo sobre sus hombros, pero nunca había pensado que tenga que hacer después. ¿El próximo paso ya, antes de que se pierda el ímpetu? ¿Hablar un rato más para ver como se desarrollará? O ¿Decir algo más directo,…


1: El pesero, el autobús

Otra vez, sonó el pitido penetrante. El dolor de mi cabeza casi me puso a vomitar. ¿qué pasó? ¿Cuándo envejecí? Habría estado mejor quedarme en la cama, con medicinas, sin molestias. El dolor estaba padeciendo. ¿Se daría cuenta alguien? ¿Cuenta de que en esta ciudad menstruosa, ya haya una persona miserable más? Probablemente no. Espero…

My three heroes. Understanding a short story by Octavio Paz is my next goal.

How to learn a pinche language – and enjoying it

I hated learning language at school. It was the most boring thing ever – lists of words, boring short stories to read, endless grammar and happy when those 50 minutes were over. Like holding your breath and being able to breathe again afterwards, I was happy to just speak Dutch again after a ’bout’ of French or German. Timbres. Schmetterlingen. Screwdriver. If anything, being taught these of which I did not know why I would want to learn them but “Useful when you go to countries where they speak those!” and “Maybe you want to be a diplomat” – gave me an aversion to the idea of going to those countries. Though not for long, so it seemed.


Mexico City at its best: art during its holidays

Come visit Mexico City! You will find it at its best: when you’re a tourist. While I feel you have to live in a city to truly be able to understand, live, and appreciate it, that doesn’t.. erhm.. always mean more delight. For us it’s highly important then to now and then step out, be a tourist, and visit those museos, iglesias, monumentos, jardines botánicos, et cetera. You should too! Go out there and enjoy the city as tourists would – why would they visit your city anyway! The Chilangos (as the derogatory term goes for Mexico Cityzens, contemporarily worn with pride) tend to fill the colonial villages annexed by the city like…

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Campingsite on our doorstep, 5+ months and counting

Friday the 13th, a quarter past 7 in the evening. The metro is calm, people sleep, smile, in here, on the streets; and all is well.

Reforma – the main avenue in front of our apartment – is still a construction mess, as slowly the electricity cables are being moved underground.

The pavements and statues seem clean, aside from some colour-matching paint on confusingly more than just a single spot. It’s ironic how apparently semi-mismatched colours (e.g. light beige on dark beige) are found preferable to the government than totally mismatched colours (green on dark beige). Or than two numbers. After all, the message ’43’ should be pretty spread by now…

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