Because competitive parenting is not a real sport.
One of the few things that brings me more pain than clutter is realizing I am a cliché. So you can imagine the emotional turmoil caused by Marie Kondo’s Tidying Up phenomenon. My love of organization has deep roots. I grew up in a tools-on-a-pegboard, boxes-as-drawer-organizers house. In elementary school, I set aside entire Saturdays... Continue Reading →
Growing up in Southern California in the ‘80s, I learned that there were three categories of people: boys who played sports and liked girls, girls who wore Bonnie Bell lip gloss and liked boys, and everyone else, who we lumped into a catch-all category labeled “gay.” This “gay” bucket included everyone from Martina Navratilova to... Continue Reading →
Communism had fallen, but no one told the bakeries. It was the early, hopeful years of Yeltsin (before he devolved into a bloated drunk) and the news agencies were reporting that Russia was flowering, backed by B-roll footage of the first McDonalds near Red Square. I was 21, my first passport stiff in my money... 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 →
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 →
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 →
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 →
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 →
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 following thoughts are culled from various one-off discussions with the children (aka “interviews”) when they felt like sharing information about this new world – Colegio de la Presentacion – that they have entered. For Retta, these discussions come in a daily hour-long monologue where the English that has been building up all day comes... Continue Reading →
Everything in Colombia is difficult. That sounds melodramatic, and I recognize that the degree of difficulty would be much greater in, say, a remote African village, or an Asian country where I can’t sound out street signs, or anywhere in the Middle East, but there, I'd have lower expectations. Here, everything seems straightforward and simple.... Continue Reading →
It started to snow during the first kilometer, which is not what you’d expect, hiking in Colombia. It wasn’t a soft, New Hampshire, get-out-the-cross-country-skis snow, but a Rhode Island coastal snow, halfway between snow and sleet, that uniquely snot-like texture that sticks to and soaks through everything. Which is unfortunate since we were wearing 90%... Continue Reading →
Dear Universe, Thank you. We asked for somewhere lovely to spend our time here, and then we hustled around talking to everyone and following leads and sweating in the noontime heat and habla-ing and exercising patience and here we are. Paradise. Spanish-speaking Shangra-La. Ex-Pat Xanadu. An idyll for idling. Sixth floor. The whole floor of the building.... Continue Reading →
When I was in Russia, my favorite folk saying was, “Don’t hang noodles from my ears.” It took the place of, “Don’t pull my leg” but provided more picturesque imagery of an obsequious bureaucrat carefully hanging strands of pasta from his boss’ ears, or what 50 years of Communism probably felt like. In Italy, they say... Continue Reading →
In Spanish, there are four different ways to say “I was”: estuve, estaba, era and fui, meaning variously, “This one time, I was…”, “For a while, I was…”, “I pretty much permanently was yet something changed since then,” and something else that I haven’t quite grasped because that word can also mean, “I went,” and... Continue Reading →
The World's Okayest Mom 