Because competitive parenting is not a real sport.
The minibus driver pulled out without looking, just as my twelve-year-old passed on her bike. Two taxis, caught behind her, began call-and-response honking. She sped up, but so did the minibus driver, drag-racing my little girl on the traffic-choked streets of this dusty Colombian town. My husband and I had assumed the English-speaking bike tour... Continue Reading →
In honor of the one(ish) year anniversary of Eric's free-diving accident, here is the full(er) story. I am in a taxi on my way to Hospital Mar Caribe. It took longer than usual to find a taxi because it’s Good Friday, which appears to be a shut-the-city-down kind of holiday in Colombia. The beaches have... Continue Reading →
Dear January 1st Becca, Tomorrow you leave on a six-month trip to Colombia. I know you are both heart-poundingly excited and sleepless with anxiety. What will Colombia be like? How will traveling as a family go? Will you be able to write? You have conflicting visions of how this crazy plan will go down. In... Continue Reading →
“As surely as there is a voyage away, there is a journey home.” -- John Kabat-Zinn One of my most vivid memories of my college summer in Russia didn't occur in Russia at all, but instead on my first day back in the United States. I had flown straight back to my unfurnished apartment and... Continue Reading →
This morning, as I brushed my teeth (water-free since the tap water isn’t safe) in the house where we are staying in rural Peru, I watched the neighbor plow his backyard with a pair of oxen. This sounds like a romantic view -- and four months ago it would have been -- but it prompted... Continue Reading →
In Cusco, the entire month of June is apparently a festival. There have been parades in the Plaza de Armas in the city center every day (so far), each day featuring brightly costumed dancers of various ages. Here are the littlest ones on parade, because, well, we couldn't help ourselves: And the youth: Because... Continue Reading →
We assume that more choice means better options and greater satisfaction. But beware of excessive choice: choice overload can make you question the decisions you make before you even make them, it can set you up for unrealistically high expectations, and it can make you blame yourself for any and all failures. In the long... Continue Reading →
The food in Santa Marta is delicious: fresh, accessible, flavorful. But it's also a bit monotonous, an endless parade of fried fish, grilled chicken, patacon [plantain pancake] and arroz con coco [coconut rice, which locals in their charming, final-syllable-swallowing accent call arro-co-co]. Of course the universe of fruits is vast, with mangoes, papayas, avocados, lulos, guanabana, guayaba and coconuts,... Continue Reading →
Sometimes, it isn't the famous sites or grand adventures that highlight the differences in culture, but the little, everyday things. Here is a loosely curated list of what's different in Colombia. Some good or fun ideas, some not-so-good, and some that continue -- even after almost five months -- to completely baffle us... We could learn from this!... Continue Reading →
The minibus, as expected, pulled out from the curb without looking, just as my 12-year-old was passing on her bike. I could see her calculating as she was squeezed out into the tangle of cars and motos: should I speed up to pass, or slow down to drop behind? (This is a legitimate question here,... Continue Reading →
For almost three months, we were a self-sufficient four-person unit: Karpinskis vs. Colombia. We ate, slept, studied, shopped, cooked, cleaned, watched Modern Family, did everything as a foursome. It was both awesome -- we could complete each other’s thoughts! -- and occasionally painful -- we could complete each other’s thoughts! Then late March and Eric’s... Continue Reading →
Of the 36 countries I have visited in my life, Colombia is hands-down the friendliest. A close second was Egypt, a country where (at least in 1998) strangers would lean out of upper story windows to welcome us to their neighborhood, take us by the hand to lead us where we needed to go, and... Continue Reading →
When we first arrived in Medellin, someone referred to my children as monos. Mono in Spanish means “monkey” so, for obvious reasons, I was a bit taken aback. “Sure, Jack has a lot of energy, “ thought I. “But are you, as a complete stranger, allowed to call my children monkeys?!” It turns out that... Continue Reading →
As we tried to channel our longing for home in a productive manner, poems happened. TWO-VOICE POEM by Retta San Diego Both Santa Marta You grew up with me You’re experiencing with me I am newfangled I am native I am here, I am waiting I can teach you I can comfort you I can... Continue Reading →
There is plenty of time to reflect during a 26-mile hike in the jungle. About life and love and why I believed that a five-day trek to Ciudad Perdida (the Lost City) would be fun. Because it wasn’t. It was a lot of other things, of course. Magical. And torturous. Stunning. Profoundly uncomfortable. Challenging. Tedious.... Continue Reading →
We are at the halfway point, the apex of this journey. For three months we’ve been climbing up from our monolingual, baffled-by-everything starting point, and now we’re teetering at the top, starting the long slide toward our return to “normal” life. In the grand tradition of Buzzfeed, where every article is “26 Male Celebs With... Continue Reading →
Cartagena is a strange stew -- one part Rodeo Drive, one part the seedier section of New Orleans, and one part quasi-third-world nation. The juxtaposition is startling. Painfully picturesque, but smelling vaguely of urine and sweat. Toothless men push sloshing handcarts of dodgy limeade past gorgeous arrays of high-end handicrafts gleaming behind spotless plate glass... Continue Reading →
You will gain deep insight into local culture. In fact, you can watch the entire life cycle of couple’s relationship -- meeting, courtship, marriage, first baby, the inevitable descent into nagging and stony silence -- as the bus crawls sllloooowwwly past. You can complete all of the primary research required for a PhD dissertation on... Continue Reading →
There are, to American eyes, five seats in Cero’s Land Cruiser: a driver’s seat, a passenger seat and a bench seat for three in the back comprised of ripped leather, wayward springs and rusty exposed bolts. This being Colombia, however, nine of us squeezed into his vehicle to tour the mountains above Santa Marta, one... Continue Reading →
For all of us who have lived outside our own culture whether by choice, by necessity or even by accident of birth, this: Everyone stares. Your skin is too pink, or too brown. Your hair is too bright, or too curly. You are too tall, or too curvy, or too something. Little kids squirm in... Continue Reading →
The World's Okayest Mom 