New Year’s Eve is the only holiday that feels truly worth going all out for. I love the specificity of midnight, I relish the idea of reflecting on the good memories and preparing for better ones to come, and I thrive on the suggestion of reinvention. Each new year, though it truly means nothing, is an opportunity to try something new, learn, broaden, and seek. We don’t have to make resolutions, and I’m particularly opposed to resolutions, but we always have an opportunity to cheekily say, “New year, new me.”
Jessica once again decided that guacamole was the love of her life. She did so many peculiar things on this trip. Walking. Eating avocados. Walking willingly. Walking without arguing. Walking more than once in a day. It was absolutely wild.
If you’ve read more than one of these blog posts you’ll know my deep and true desire to be a hay farmer in rural Romania. (Don’t worry, there’s more on that coming up!) Oh there would be nothing more joyful than baling hay all day and thinking of nothing but hay. Hay, hay, hay! It’s not to be, but one of these summers I swear to you I’ll vanish into the night, turn up in Brașov, and then make my way to the countryside to train as a hay farmer. I’m quite serious.
Monday: Why don’t you make a big batch of cookie dough and freeze it to gorge on later? When I get home from work, I’m going to make some peanut […]
Monday: Why don’t you immediately drop whatever you’re doing and go buy an air fryer? I thought it was unnecessary for the longest time. I thought it was silly. I […]
LOVE: La Reina del Sur 2: SHE’S BACK! I am going to try really hard not to write a million words, but let me assure you, beloved reader, that is […]
LOVE: “La Reina del Sur” Return: She’s coming back. Teresa is coming back. LA REINA RETURNS! I honestly don’t think that I’ll be able to handle this. I can barely […]
I’ve never been able to eat pea soup without thinking of demonic possession. Do you know anybody who has ever been possessed by an unholy spirit? It happens so often in the movies and television that you’d think we’d all know of at least somebody. I’m in a coffeeshop right now back home, watching the rain fall — like in Mexico City, it won’t stop — and this idea has quite suddenly enraged me. Every week there’s some new show on the Travel Channel about some possessed child.
Since I left the airport last year, my soul has been aching to return. And finally I’m back and I can’t even begin to tell you how wonderful it is. Nothing has changed, if anything, Mexico is better. But I’m jumping ahead. I need to start at the very beginning. Hopefully — and I just learned in one of my university courses that that’s not an acceptable word but I don’t give a hoot — you’ve missed my lengthy reminisces of travel. As one of my long-dead heroines, Lady Lucie Duff-Gordon, an Englishwomen who gave herself completely to Egypt and died in Luxor, once said, “I long to bore you with traveler’s tales.” Let’s get started.
In high school, I would not miss an episode of Así es la Vida. It was on Univision without subtitles and I couldn’t understand a thing. It was brilliant. Eventually it became the foundation of my Spanish education, which is surely why it’s easier to talk about my cheating husband than it is the weather. Still, no knowledge is bad knowledge.