 In Split at the Root: A Memoir of Love and Lost Identity, I tell the story of growing up within a culture and a race that was different to my own. Here’s an excerpt:Guatemala City is only 15 degrees north of the Equator, but at five thousand feet above sea level the altitude allows for November, December, and January to be cold ... |
“None of us is getting any younger, and if we should meet again in this life, you need to come visit soon,” Anita, my dearest friend had said over Skype. It’s not that urgent, I thought, but fate might have something else in store. I booked my flight to arrive in Munich in time for the first Sunday in Advent, when the festive season begins and Christmas markets start popping up on Rathaus Plätze, and the scent ...
Continue Reading →
So here I am, nursing my jet-lag and feeling a bit melancholic after my spiritually uplifting visit with my friend Anita. I’m taking time to contemplate and reflect on my visit to Munich and Bonn with her.
What made me feel as if I were on another planet, because I had never before taken note of it, was the behavior of dogs. Any size dogs. From little Asian temple doggies to the humongous Anatolian Mastiff parading along ...
Continue Reading →