Dispatches from The Mayan Empire

 "The global phenomenon of poverty tourism - or 'poorism' - has become increasingly popular during the past few years. Tourists pay to be guided through the favelas of Brazil and the shantytowns of South Africa. The recently opened Los Angeles Gang Tour carries visitors through battle-scarred territories of urban violence and deprivation." - Leslie Jamison + + + March 21st is kind of a big deal here in Nuevo Progreso. It marks the end of the winter tourism season. "Winter Texans" are the lifeblood of the local economy, mostly retirees fleeing the cold winters of their home state, or country, there are more than a few winter Texans that hail from Canada.Most of them seem to hail from the Midwestern United States. At least as far as the ones I've spoken to, and the shirts proclaiming their home state along with some slogan about being a Texan when its convenient (winter). [[And so the Day of Tourists begins...]] Dia del Turista its called...

"You bravos had better be ready to fight, or we'll never get out of East Texas tonight, but the trail is long and the river is wide, and my ride's here" - Warren Zevon, My Ride's Here + + + My day tends to start around 10:30am or so most of the time. No more early mornings on the corners barking or occasionally DJ'ing for Vampiz has allowed me to set my own schedule for work (writing, which tends to be in fits and starts throughout the day unless I'm on a roll). Which is nice, since I am not a morning person. I tend to shamble out of bed like something from the 'Legend of Boggy Creek' films, swallow my morning fistful of pills (allergy meds, the price I pay for my lovely cat, vitamins, and acetaminophen with codeine to allow me to move without wincing in pain constantly). After that its typically a lovely hot shower thanks to my miracle shower head with a built in heating unit. I admit its not the safest of showers, but it is hot, with...

Sorry for the delay in posting. Working on the novel as well as another lengthy post for 'Dispatches' that might involve some actual journalism again. Crazy, I know, but every now and again I get 'the itch'. Though the pharmacy I usually go to assures me they have something for that... -R + + + This post and its original content copyright James Radcliff, and has been brought to you by Mexico, tequila, and generally poor decision making. If you would like to donate to support this bizarre little travelogue, feel free to do so via Patreon or PayPal. As always, this strange and debaucherous adventure has been brought to your screen by viewers like you. Thank you. https://www.patreon.com/jamesradcliff paypal.me/jamesradcliff  https://www.instagram.com/dispatches_from_the_field/

"Within, walls continued upright, bricks met neatly, floors were firm, and doors were sensibly shut; silence lay steadily against the wood and stone of Hill House, and whatever walked there, walked alone."  - Shirley Jackson, The Haunting of Hill House + + +  It occurs to me that I have written extensively about the squat Tessa and I called home our first few weeks in Mexico. Despite its difficulties such a lack of shower, sleeping on essentially a cement floor, the lack of insulation, or windows that weren't just particle board haphazardly nailed to the window frames, the rodent issue (which Tessa dealt with in her typical brutally efficient manner quickly, she even left one of the rats dead and disemboweled in front of the hole the were entering through) or the frequently used Crack Shack in what would have been our backyard.  [[ "La Cabane à Crack", French makes it sound so much more respectable. ]] Despite all of those problems ...

“This original version of Coca-Cola contained a small amount of coca extract and therefore a trace of cocaine. (It was eliminated early in the twentieth century, though other extracts derived from coca leaves remain part of the drink to this day.) Its creation was not the accidental concoction of an amateur experimenting in his garden, but the deliberate and painstaking culmination of months of work by an experienced maker of quack remedies.” - Tom Standage, A History of the World in 6 Glasses + + + Today I saw a man sell cocaine in tiny bags from a bicycle. He has been around the block you might say. I've seen him with the other street level cartel dealers, the same ones who occasionally keep me awake by blasting their music from the shit car they sit in on cold nights. Not nearly as nice as the vehicles that deliver them their products and collect the cartels cut of the money, no sir, not at all that nice. Its a shit car, with a great sound system, and if they we...

"I believe in no God, no invisible man in the sky. But there is something more powerful than each of us, a combination of our efforts, a Great Chain of industry that unites us. But it is only when we struggle in our own interest that the chain pulls society in the right direction. The chain is too powerful and too mysterious for any government to guide. Any man who tells you different either has his hand in your pocket, or a pistol to your neck." - Andrew Ryan, Bioshock  + + + Here in Mexico, just along the US border region, you can find people from everywhere, from all walks of life, but in a city with a rough census of just over 10,000 permanent residents there is one type of person you find more than any other, and most of them have Texas license plates. Make no mistake, Nuevo Progreso is like a journey to an illicit Mecca for the 'Build the Wall', 'Git 'er Done' types of all ages. They adore the cheap dentistry, the cheaper doctors, ...