¡Dejale regalonearte! Let her love you! says Juan, my host dad, as my host mom hovers about trying to bring me ice or kleenex or an apple, all of which I turn down, even as I sit in a crumpled heap after yet another Knee Incident. I’m more than a bit desolate, but accepting help feels, in…
Tag: Brazil
{15.3.15} crying to the swing of the pacific
In Latin America, I learned to cry. Correction: In Latin America, I unlearned how to not cry. When I was younger, long ago in the distant past of 18 on down, I fought a lot with my dad. A natural reaction to what I often felt –anger, frustration, annoyance, self-righteousness, not being heard– is generally…
{25.1.15} On Travel and Time in Bolivia (part 1/2)
Before going, I thought of Bolivia in very vague terms. I had some images in my head of Lake Titicaca and shepherds spinning wool thread in the ‘80s from my mother’s travels. I knew they had just reelected their first president that, instead of being a member of the white oligarchy, is an indigenous man…
