tradition

A Piñata Story

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I grew up in El Salvador going to Piñatas, not fiestas de cumpleaños, but Piñatas. If you guessed that the smacking of the hanging toy was the main attraction, you’re right. The thing is I don’t remember ever having fun when it was my turn to grab the stick and hit the swinging piñata. I never felt tall enough, strong enough, or maybe I simply was never interested enough. I was reminded about this feeling of childhood inadequacy last weekRead More ...

Sometimes showing is better than telling…

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It’s 2:30 in the madrugada and the rooster won’t stop crowing. I thought this only happened at the break of dawn! What is going on? It was okay the first few days, but after all the late nights celebrating Año Nuevo and the first day of 2009 and just life in general – as they do on this beautiful island on a regular basis – I want to kill the stupid rooster. But then, I remember how Vanessa’s face litRead More ...

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