Because competitive parenting is not a real sport.
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 →
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 →
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 turns out, interestingly enough, that I’m not so good with ambiguity. It will surprise none of you who have spent more than five minutes with me to hear that I like to get the facts, decide and move on. Every professional -- and most of the amateurs -- of whom I’ve asked life advice... 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 →
Last night, we had what is becoming a quintessentially Colombian lesson in letting go: of plans, of control, of the idea that we are masters of our own destiny. It went like this: At 6pm, we went to Conversation Club at our language school, where we practice speaking painfully slowly, clearly and correctly... Continue Reading →
Yesterday, someone asked if I was homesick and I was surprised to realize that I’m not. Not yet, anyway, or not in the way I have been on past trips, yearning for my normal, or at the very least, the familiar. Like when I spent a summer in Russia and day 5 found me in... Continue Reading →
Q: What do you call someone who speaks two languages? A: Bilingual. Q: What do you call someone who speaks one language? A: American. Yesterday, the kids and I went to the gym in our building to use up some energy. After some time on the ellipticals and with the weights, the gym attendant approached... Continue Reading →
Every morning, after some form of eggs (because eggs are plentiful, healthy and I can cook them with the meager selection of tools available in my rental kitchen) and tropical fruit (to remind us all why we’re here), we walk a kilometer and a half from our apartment to Ana’s apartment, where we leave our... Continue Reading →
One of my friends, when I was in the throes of last-minute what-am-I-doing panic, sent me this pep-post: So here's how I see it: It's like bungee jumping... it sounds cool when you decide to do it, but then you have to put on that harness thing and that's totally outside your fashion and overall... Continue Reading →
Poor Jack. The voice recognition software built into our Rosetta Stone Spanish program is designed for adult voices. He sits at the computer, his head engulfed by gigantic headphones, and tries to communicate with the program. “El nino esta infermo,” he says. “Dee-doo”: the sound of failure from Rosetta Stone. “El nino esta infermo,” he... Continue Reading →
Yesterday, I bought Rosetta Stone for Latin American Spanish. After the requisite 2.5 hours of downloading and tech assistance calls and starting over and setting up profiles, we had our first session when the kids got home from school. In the intervening 24 hours, they’ve each done about 8 hours of Spanish lessons. We had... Continue Reading →
I’ve decided that I should learn to speak Spanish before we leave on this trip, which I recognize is silly since that’s the entire *point* of us going. For twelve years, living in San Diego, I’ve tried to learn to speak Spanish. I bought 3 different teach-yourself-Spanish books but never made it past the “j... Continue Reading →
Today, I discovered Central American rental websites. It’s house porn, with adorable ESL moments. I found a great place in Leon, Nicaragua with “walking closets.” I can’t stop giggling at the image of waking up and wondering where my closet has wandered off to. But I can tell this is going to be a problem.... Continue Reading →
Most parents when faced with an idea of this magnitude might wait until it was a done deal, until the research was completed and the budgets were prepared, to tell their children. Eric and I lasted three days. We are not good at secrets. I’m not sure our Lonely Planet Central America had even arrived... Continue Reading →
The World's Okayest Mom 