Here's something you might be interested in.
Ask a Hipster — Advice you didn't know you needed
Big Screen — Movie commentary
Blurt — Music's inside track
Booze News — San Diego spirits
Classical Music — Immortal beauty
Classifieds — Free and easy
Cover Stories — Front-page features
Drinks All Around — Bartenders' drink recipes
Excerpts — Literary and spiritual excerpts
Feast! — Food & drink reviews
Feature Stories — Local news & stories
Fishing Report — What’s getting hooked from ship and shore
From the Archives — Spotlight on the past
Golden Dreams — Talk of the town
The Gonzo Report — Making the musical scene, or at least reporting from it
Letters — Our inbox
Movies@Home — Local movie buffs share favorites
Movie Reviews — Our critics' picks and pans
Musician Interviews — Up close with local artists
Neighborhood News from Stringers — Hyperlocal news
News Ticker — News & politics
Obermeyer — San Diego politics illustrated
Outdoors — Weekly changes in flora and fauna
Overheard in San Diego — Eavesdropping illustrated
Poetry — The old and the new
Reader Travel — Travel section built by travelers
Reading — The hunt for intellectuals
Roam-O-Rama — SoCal's best hiking/biking trails
San Diego Beer — Inside San Diego suds
SD on the QT — Almost factual news
Sheep and Goats — Places of worship
Special Issues — The best of
Street Style — San Diego streets have style
Surf Diego — Real stories from those braving the waves
Theater — On stage in San Diego this week
Tin Fork — Silver spoon alternative
Under the Radar — Matt Potter's undercover work
Unforgettable — Long-ago San Diego
Unreal Estate — San Diego's priciest pads
Your Week — Daily event picks
Medellin, Colombia, Encapsulated
Medellin, enchanted city, home of the silicon buttcheek, where no one remembers the natural light of stars and the sun has barely been named, where the Paisas wear their souls on their skin and old men sing sad songs in the streets selling guanabana juice by the cup, where notices in the park bathroom urge you to give transcendental meditation a chance and park attendants in decorative safari hats remind you “no shoes!” while rogue bastard geese ambush afternoon picnics and iguanas look on grinning, where laughter thunders and thunder laughs and everybody remembers your name, where no one ever has change for 50 mil, no more than $23 dollars, so you buy juice on the corner, an arepa down the street, quesito in the market, all part of a strange ritual shuffle necessary to divide the great bill, where buses leave a lump of black exhaust wherever they go and stoplights are more of a suggestion, where the metro cuts across the city like something from the future and heartbroken youths wander the nights street-singing Spanish songs of love, where raisin-faced women push carts of coffee and gum and the history of the world transpires every hour to a backdrop of horns honking, globular synthetic breasts on the boulevard, and the smell of cornmeal frying.
Here's something you might be interested in.
Medellin, Colombia, Encapsulated
Medellin, Colombia, Encapsulated
Medellin, enchanted city, home of the silicon buttcheek, where no one remembers the natural light of stars and the sun has barely been named, where the Paisas wear their souls on their skin and old men sing sad songs in the streets selling guanabana juice by the cup, where notices in the park bathroom urge you to give transcendental meditation a chance and park attendants in decorative safari hats remind you “no shoes!” while rogue bastard geese ambush afternoon picnics and iguanas look on grinning, where laughter thunders and thunder laughs and everybody remembers your name, where no one ever has change for 50 mil, no more than $23 dollars, so you buy juice on the corner, an arepa down the street, quesito in the market, all part of a strange ritual shuffle necessary to divide the great bill, where buses leave a lump of black exhaust wherever they go and stoplights are more of a suggestion, where the metro cuts across the city like something from the future and heartbroken youths wander the nights street-singing Spanish songs of love, where raisin-faced women push carts of coffee and gum and the history of the world transpires every hour to a backdrop of horns honking, globular synthetic breasts on the boulevard, and the smell of cornmeal frying.
Comments