May 20, 2001 |
Over dinner one night, a trusted globe-trotting friend dropped the name "Antigua." Visions of coconut-laden palm trees and lapping turquoise waters immediately flashed through my head. "The Caribbean island, right?" I blurted. "No," Joe replied. "Guatemalan Antigua. It has the most amazing colonial architecture and great language schools--inexpensive too. You, mi amigo, have got to go."
December 10, 2000 |
In a lush valley 5,000 feet up in the mountains lies this 457-year-old city, dwarfed by the three volcanoes that surround it. Visitors from around the world are drawn here, partly by its beauty and history, but mostly by its 60 Spanish-language schools. Foreigners spend anywhere from two weeks to two months in Antigua in intensive, one-on-one language training, and eventually they yearn for a break from verb conjugations and pronunciation drills.
September 6, 2000 |
Eighteen months ago, two U.S. immigration agents brought 43-year-old Shelley Tennyson Joseph home in handcuffs to a land he hardly knew. Back in 1980, he had been sentenced to 55 years in prison for committing a rape and armed robbery on St. Croix, in the U.S. Virgin Islands. Joseph recalls that he said to himself: "I can't serve that time. I'm going to let that time serve me."
August 19, 2000 |
He called himself Dragon, and she was Amber--a notoriously irreverent Internet queen. Yet neighbors insist that they hadn't a clue what really went on inside the seaside villa that the gregarious U.S. businessman and young British woman had been renting on this not-so-sleepy Caribbean island.
July 4, 2000 |
A fatal shooting lies at the heart of noted Chilean writer Marcela Serrano's latest novel. The heroine, Violeta Dasinski, kills her abusive husband, Eduardo. This act of violence transforms the lives of Violeta and her lifelong friend Josefa Ferrer, the narrator. But the way Serrano tells the story, the shooting is oddly muffled, almost insignificant, like the speck of grit in an oyster shell that gives rise to layers of pearl.
October 21, 1999 |
Hurricane Jose ripped roofs from houses, tore down a newly built church and flung debris through deserted streets Wednesday as it hit Antigua head-on and threatened a string of other Caribbean islands. Storm-weary islanders in neighboring St. Kitts, where a few homes remain roofless from last year's devastating hurricane season, braced themselves as Jose bore down packing 100-mph winds and drenching rain. "It's projected to move right across the Leeward Islands.
March 11, 1999 |
When the polls closed and the counting began in this Caribbean nation's bitterly fought general elections Tuesday night, the opposition candidates followed what has become a tradition in their decades-long pursuit of power: They all went into hiding. But when the final tallies were in Wednesday morning in this country long awash in mysteries unsolved and charges unproved, they all were safe. They'd lost--again. The long-ruling Bird dynasty remained intact.
February 26, 1999 |
First came reports about arms and ammunition: shipping containers packed with rifles, grenades, launchers, pistols, bullets and tear gas, all consigned to the government of Antigua and Barbuda. Then an unknown arsonist torched the headquarters of the twin-island nation's opposition newspaper. And then Antigua's only prison burned to the ground.
April 15, 1998 |
Taffy and Bonnie Bufton don't live here anymore. Until a few months ago, the aging Welsh couple were the only residents of tiny Guiana Island--447 acres of cactus, thorn bush, mangrove and rocks. Their realm: two ramshackle houses, a 36-volt generator, 70 sheep, about 50 fallow deer, an ancient tractor and Taffy's rusty 1953 British sedan. For more than 30 years, the Buftons drank rainwater filtered through socks. The couple, now in their 70s, tended the deer and the sheep.
March 29, 1998 |
For nearly 20 years, Antigua has offered guitar legend Eric Clapton a refuge from the rhythmic highs and drug-induced blues of his rock stardom. Antiguans have embraced him, giving him privacy and peace through two decades that have seen him grow from addict to advocate to, just maybe, the Betty Ford of the next century. Now Clapton is repaying Antigua for its kindness--and sacrificing some of his treasured privacy.