Living Abroad
Festival de Dulces

Festival de Dulces

Today was the Festival de Dulces. The high school students celebrated by wearing jeans, blasting champeta, and selling goey mango, coconut, papaya and arequipe sweets. When I walked towards the school this afternoon, a bunch of kids yelled my name. “Sarah, a la orden,” one girl said, motioning towards the mango concoction on the table....
So, do you think I... ?

So, do you think I… ?

Sweating like usual. “I recently read an article about a guy–I don’t know if he’s from the United States or England–but he invented a lotion that you can use instead of showering,” My co-teacher mentioned. We were chatting in English while the students copied a huge chunk of text off the white board. “Interesting…” “I...
For expats and travelers: the e-book vs. real book debate

For expats and travelers: the e-book vs. real book debate

Since I’ve been roaming beyond US borders without a permanent residency for the past few years, I have several paperbacks, journals, and big, beautiful art books gathering dust on a bookshelf in my parents’ house. I love these books, but I’m a minimalist. Fascinated by the thought of storing unfathomable amounts of text on a single...
I Live on the Beach: an update and some goals for the next two years

I Live on the Beach: an update and some goals for the next two years

So long to schedules! The nine-hour days of Peace Corps training have ended, and I’ve entered a period of transition and adjustment. A month ago, I moved to my site, La Boquilla, located on the beach, 25 minutes north of the center of Cartagena. La Boquilla is an Afro-Colombian, peri-urban community mainly comprised of fishermen....
Living among the (domesticated) animals of La Boquilla

Living among the (domesticated) animals of La Boquilla

Along with the roosters, the birds wake me up every morning around 6:30 AM. When they begin to sing, I open my eyes to the soft morning glow sweeping through my bedroom window. They repeat the same short song for 20 or 30 minutes, their piercing chirps overpowering the steady hum of my fan. Then...
My Miró Breakfast

My Miró Breakfast

Today my breakfast looked like a Miró painting. There was a brown hot dog on the left side of the plate, two triangular pieces of Costeño cheese in the top center, and a fried ball of dough on the right. Food unintentionally inspired by 20th century art. I picked up the ball of fried dough...
No light in the neighborhood

No light in the neighborhood

I walked to my house in complete darkness, like I was blindfolded, taking part in a Spanish class activity to practice giving directions. A la derecha, past the church. A la izquierda, at the next corner. Every few seconds a car passed by, and I momentarily noted the cracks in the sidewalk. Tipped-toeing with my arms out for...
"Mul" on the floor

“Mul” on the floor

Some days, the words escape my mouth effortlessly. My accent lessens and the rr’s slide off my tongue in rhythm, like gliding across the dance floor in someone’s arms. Reir. Crear. Venir. Cerrar. Yesterday, my head spun and the sounds got caught in my throat. Uncomfortable, embarrassed and frustrated—I wanted to kiss the sounds and...

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