In The Heat Of The Mango
It's a hot, hazy, Sunday afternoon in Ponce, Puerto Rico. The skies are greyed out by the long traveled sand dusts from the Sahara, which have crossed the Atlantic as it has occurred for millenniums. The town is quiet, people walk lazily around the tree lined and centennial buildings adorned plaza. Others sit on benches under the centuries old umbrella shaped trees, refreshed by the mist of the lion guarded fountain, enjoying the delicious ice creams from Los Chinitos, the decades old famous ice cream parlor at the town square, across from the legendary black and red fire house, El Parque de Bombas. Los Chinito's ice creams are delicious, no matter what flavor you get. I'm having my favorite, guanabana or sour sop, which melts under the intense heat, prompting me to lick it quickly. It's always hard to chose between the so many delicious flavors, orange, coconut, passion fruit, peanuts, chocolate, or the decadent creamy vanilla, among others. But neither t...