A Gringo in Mañana-Land

In fact, I even went so far as to purchase the automobile. It had been newly painted, and the second-hand dealer assured me that no car in all the border country had a greater r...

In the dusk of early morning the low, flat-roofed adobe city of Nogales assumed all the forbidding qualities of the fictional Mexico. But the leisurely immigration official was...

He whipped up his horses, and we jogged away through narrow streets lined with the massive, fortress-like walls of Moorish dwellings, past a tiny palm-grown _plaza_ fronted by a...

He was a stocky man in khaki and corduroy, a man of fifty or sixty, with slightly gray hair, and the keen, friendly eyes of the Westerner. He was a trifle deaf from listening to...

He was young--scarcely out of his teens--slender, mild-mannered, almost feminine in voice and appearance. His large, dark eyes were shaded with long, girlish lashes. One felt st...

It was evening when the train brought Eustace and myself into Mazatlán. Since the fortnightly steamer was scheduled to sail for the south at eight o’clock, we leaped into a cab,...

Despite its commercial importance, this is one of the several places on the Pacific Coast where a traveler, upon leaving his ship, takes one hasty glance at the dirty black beac...

The road led from Manzanillo through the hot coastal plain--through palm-land and swamp-land where sweating, semi-naked _peons_ waded knee-deep in pools formed overnight by the...

The reflection that I was now a fugitive gave me a sense of international importance. It did seem a trifle uncomplimentary on the part of the Mexican government that no one soug...

It had been constructed back in the days of Diaz, and apparently had not been repaired since that time. A rusty engine that wheezed with asthma dragged behind it a long successi...

An air of peace and tranquillity pervaded the land. The engineer, as though infected with the lethargy of the tropics, loafed along from one tiny village to another, stopping at...

It took me through a bamboo forest, and dropped me at Suchiate, a straggling village of thatched huts beside a muddy river, where I had my first experience with the formalities...

A mule trail leads overland from Guatemala to Salvador--a rugged, bowlder-strewn path that curls along mountain sides, and fords rivers, and scales precipitous cliffs--a road su...

One of the eccentricities of the average Central-American republic is that the traveler has little difficulty in entering the country, yet having entered, finds his departure ba...

Having neglected this precaution, he must resort to patience. There is a steamship service along the Pacific Coast which advertises regular sailing dates. But since its vessels...

From Managua the railway carried me to Granada, on the shores of the largest lake between Michigan and Titicaca. At the end of a long wharf the weekly steamer was balancing itse...

After several months of travel in Mexico and Central America--travel marked by many delays, by many postponements until _mañana_, by many controversies with petty officials, and...