My mother, a very craft-oriented person, is from Guatemala and my father was an architect with family ties to both Guatemala and Morocco.  They had a whirlwind love affair which ended before I was born.  When I was a teenager, I drew a picture of my dream home only to find out later that it was an exact duplicate of what Moroccans call a riad.  Even now, when I try to rationalize why it is that I truly love/obsess over what I do for a living, I have to come to the conclusion that it runs through my veins; that some traits and interests are just hereditary.

While I was born in Miami Beach, my mom and I moved to Guatemala for a few years when I was young.  I still remember the colors of the fabrics and houses vividly…and climbing mountains and finding women working on different looms and coming upon houses with beautiful pots filled with water and fragrant flower petals. During Christmas, there would be parades down the streets at night with lively music and the most beautiful colored paper lanterns you can imagine.  Even now, after returning and living in the US for most of my life, my lasting impression of Guatemala is color - vibrant and lush and so visually exciting.  Here is a little of what I’m talking about:

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I love that next-to-last pic of the little girl — she looks almost like an old black & white photo of my Mom when she was younger.  One of my dreams is to book some time with her and go on a surprise trip back to Guatemala.  I’d love to see her excitement at finding out our destination and exploring one of my home countries as an adult as well.  Wonder what new inspirations are awaiting?