#1.Things are bigger here

How I knew I was in the states:

2. The "how to" video at customs in Houston was dripping with political correctness. Smile. Okay, I liked it.

3. I drank clean, cold, free water from a water fountain in the airport hallway.

4. I bought my first bagel in the airport food court. For three dollars.

5. The woman calling out standby passengers' names mispronounced mine "Geeman"instead of "Hehman."


How I knew I was in Texas:

1. Half of the airplane television channels on my free preview were religious. (Faithful workout!)
Is this really a Texas thing? I feel like it must be.


How I knew I was home:

1. My lovely, real, mother bought me roses to welcome me home.

2. No one doled out, watched, or even cared about my portion size at dinner last night.

3. We have skim, not evaporated, milk.

4. I'm wearing shorts and a t-shirt. Definitely summer.

No me digas adios!

I'm leaving Lima, Peru tonight. Laaate. At the very last moment that can technically be called "tonight." And not arriving home until like 9 PM tomorrow. Why did you bring that up? I was trying so hard not to think about my 7 hour layover in Houston.

So. I could go off on a long sappy post about what I've learned in about ten months, how much I'm gonna miss everything in Lima...yada yada yada.

But I won't. Not now.

Instead, I dedicate this post to my dear Kara, who has made this semester so much better than I'm sure it would have been otherwise, and shall henceforth be either an ocean or several states away.

I'll miss our face-to-face conversations, like these:

Kara: I wouldn’t want to be you. (When I had a bunch of essays. )

Me: I don’t want to be me either. I want to be you.

K: You don’t want to be me.

M: Why don’t I want to be you?

K: I dunno. (Pause) You’re right. My life’s pretty f***ing fantastic.

And I'll miss our long philosophical discussions (we weren't arguing, we were discussing!)

Like one we had one time about if there were intrinsically male and female qualities, which was brought up again later:

K: Ugh. Men are stupid.

M: I agree. Can that be an intrinsically male quality?

K: Yes.

M: Oh good. The only one.

But I still mean to have these conversations, which occurred via Skype:

Kara: He's a boy, not a man, that's the problem.

Me: I think "man" is a myth anyway...

Kara: Does that mean all women are pedophiles?

Me: Hahaha

Kara: Or motherly

Me: Disturbing, both of them

Kara: Except for lesbians

Me: The only truly mature relationships


Thanks, Kara dear, for putting up with me so much this semester my dear! I'll see you again when you come to visit next year. . . .

And as for you all, I'll catch you again on the other side!

I really think we're speaking the same language...

Hermi, coming out of the kitchen: Daaniii, can you do me a faaavor?

Me: Sure, what is it?

Hermi: Fetch me the lustradora by the stairs.

Me, walking over to the stairs: Uhh...I don't know what that is.

Hermi: The lustradora! It's by the stairs!

Me: Yes, but I don't know what it is. Is it down here or at the top?

Hermi: By the stairs. The stairs are the thing you climb!

Me: I know what the stairs are! But I don't see anything. What is it?

Hermi, coming over to me frustrated: You have to go up.

Me: Ooookay.

Turns out it's some kind of big floor buffer thing. Who buffs their floors?

So normally, these kind of interactions frustrate me, (Why doesn't she just describe it to me or at least tell me where it is instead of repeating the same thing over and over?!?) and but this morning I had to chuckle to myself and think "Darn it. This will never happen in the states. I think I'll kinda miss it."

Leave? Who's leaving?

I feel like every time I leave my house I'm faced with another potential "last."

The last time I drive along my dear green Malecon in Miraflores.

The last time I glimpse the lit up cross in Callao across the bay.

The last time I watch drunk American students make merry at a house party.

The last time I walk through the park with the George Washington statue.

The last time I laugh with the program directors.

The last time I stand on the roof at church and look over to the Interbank lights.

The last time I explain why we don't use "fat" as a neutral description word to my English class.

The last time I have a class in Spanish in Peru with Peruvian students and a Peruvian professor.

The last time I see a good friend who rolls her eyes when I use "venir" instead of "ir."

The last time I'll see the newest seasonal add that Saga Falabella comes out with.

Basta ya con las "lasts!"

It doesn't quite feel quite real yet. It feels like I may wake up Sunday morning and Hermi will say, "Leave? You live here! What are you saying, leave? Drink your juice!"

A post that wasn't worth the wait

You did this to me.

Wow. Has it really been that long since I've written a post? Time flies when you're tearing your hair out studying.

I'm just brimming with interesting things to say. As always.

And completely lacking time to write them in.

3 finals down, 2 finals and 3 essays to go.

Oooooh, my life.

I always study in style.

I feel the need to list good things

Exams. You get it.

1) I held a baby yesterday who was absolutely precious and who smiled like an angel every time I kissed her and pretended to eat her hand.

2) There's a blooming tree near my house that just smells divine, like a sunny field budding in spring, in the middle of a stanky grey winter.

3) I persevered through a dark period in my study process in which I felt like anything, anything had to be better then being a student in the middle of exams. And I feel good about the take-home final I wrote.

4) One of "our boys" at Starbucks, Ernesto, saw us wavering over a sandwich purchase and gave it to us for free. "Estoy encargado." (I'm in charge.)

5) This video about anxiety and stress dreams and psychopaths has just made me feel a lot better, more objective, about my own stress.

6) I helped to celebrate Rebecca's birthday yesterday!! Feliz cumple amiguita! Espero que el dia te pasara muy feliz!

Recuerdas esto?
Espero que si. Te la robe de facebook ;).

The whiny voice: Adult version

I hate the whiny voice. Hate it.

In the states, the "whining" scenario usually goes something like this:

The kid in the back seat sticks out his bottom lip, puts on his doe eyes, and pitches his voice up a few octaves: "Daaaad. Are we there yeeeet? I'm huuuungry and I need to peeee." He oozes pathetic.

"Junior, if you don't stop whining, you're not going to watch any TV when we get to Grandma's house!"

Of course, what Junior doesn't realize, is that if he had asked in a normal, respectful tone, Dad might have answered him nicely. So he'll learn, eventually, that whining doesn't get you what you want. Big boys don't whine. (They cry, but don't whine.)

And so I've rarely heard a kid over the age of twelve use the whiny voice.


Except here. Where whining is a social art:

And I don't just mean the complaining, people. Everyone does that. We use them as synonyms sometimes. I mean the voice, the face, the works. They use it when they want something from you.

"Senoooor. Por favoooor, me puede atender? He estado esperaaando." (Siiiir, pleeese can you wait on me? I've been waaaaaiiting.)

"Senoriita, discuuupla. Me prestes tu baniiiito? " (Miiiiss, excuuuse me. Can I use your bathrooom?)

Daaaaani. Me puedes hacer un favoooor? (Will you do me a faaaavor?)

You think I exaggerate? Ha! I've heard Peruvian adults use the whiny voice a thousand times! Okay that may be an exaggeration. Is this a Latin American thing? A Peruvian thing? A Limeno thing?

If I'm being all Abe Lincoln here, most of the time it still irritates the heck out of me. To my United Statsian ears it feels ingratiating, begging, manipulating, childish.

And the thing is, in an objective way, I know Peruvians really mean for it to be polite. It's a social courtesy, a nicety. It demonstrates that they know they're putting you out. It's the equivalent of "I'm sorry to ask you this, but..."

AND YET, I still feel like saying "Stop whining, or I'll turn this car around!"

There's only so far the brain can take you in intercultural interaction.


Confession: I have, however, used the whiny voice myself a time or two. Followed by deep shame.