“April! Tienes que escuchar este. Don’t freak out just listen carefully.”
“You know where they have that construction site up the street? They laid out the cement for the supporting beams last night and then left it to dry. And now look at this picture of what they found in the cement this morning.”
I realize recently that I may have given the impression from some of my past posts that I have a critical eye when viewing my homeland, namely, my criticism of the American isolationist culture, and my personal illumination concerning the upper middle class suburban New Yorker in the context of rural South America. Yes, we may fall behind pretty much every other western developed country in terms of health, schools, environmentalism, and basic human rights, but I would like to remind all my non-estandounidense friends, who like poke fun at me and my country, of all the ways that we totally rock. Being that it is the fourth of July, I’m feeling patriotic, and I’d like to assuage any fears, and reassure all my readers that I truly am proud to be an American, as cheesy as that phrase may sound due to its overuse by country singers and politicians.
1. Bronx, New York (~4 years) – Cement, and a solitary swing outside our apartment complex. A boy named Aaron is mad at me because I can’t cut in straight lines. Curled up on a mat on the floor at daycare pretending to be asleep. I am certain that the lady who runs the daycare will murder me if she finds me awake. Another woman (Lorraine?) with two older children take care of me while my parents are at school. I play in the gravel next to the Expressway while she works. The cars are swooshing by in blurs and the smell of roasting meat from her hotdog stand is intoxicating. Rainbow Bright is the rage. Continue reading →
I didn’t feel right when I woke up on a plane descending over Manhattan today. It was all wrong. The buildings, the trees, the colors. I suddenly had the strange sensation that I was waking up from some kind of dream. I know I didn’t literally dream up the last months in Ecuador, but I got this inexplicable panicked feeling that this was all wrong, and I had to get back before it was too late. Too late for what? I have no idea, but for just a moment I had a completely illogical urge to turn around run back to Ecuador before I was fully awake, and could never get it back. A panic like feeling trapped, only instead of shut in, I felt like I was locked out. Continue reading →