Sí, cariño
In the 8th grade I had my heart set on learning French. I imagined leisurely Sunday mornings at a café on the banks of the Seine, ordering croissants with perfectly accented abandon. It was with mild disappointment, then, that I flipped to the foreign language section of my school’s course catalog and saw one lonely [...]
10 signs you’re the child of first-generation immigrants
1. You were the kid decked out in head-to-toe protective gear at the skate rink 2. John Mayer is the only contemporary artist your parents consistently recognize on the radio 3. You view the oven, dishwasher, and dryer as extra storage space 4. New clothes were always purchased two sizes too big with the understanding [...]
Ugrh
Late night chat with Ugrh, a fruit stand vendor near Teresa’s apartment Native of? Turkey. How long have you been in the States? A month. Current job? Working the 8:00 pm to 8:00 am shift at the fruit stand on the corner of Greenwich and Chambers. Wait, you mean this fruit stand is open 24 [...]
Sur de america, espero que vuelva pronto
What a trip! Some high (and low) lights: By the numbers Cities visited: 5 (Lima — Arequipa — Cuzco — Bogotá — Medellín) Flights taken: 9 Hours spent on buses: 46 Absurdly early mornings: 4 Wild Rover wristbands: 4 Drinks ordered at Wild Rover bars: 0 Unexpected delays: 3 Culprit 1: weather Culprit 2: canceled [...]
Jiao zi
Sunday mornings find my mother’s measured knife strokes, dut dut dut chopping brilliant Scope green qing cai into a pulpy mass. At seven I’m an eager “helper,” smushing the delicate wonton wrappers between my fingers, streaking flour across the counter. She drops a few of my lumps in the pot for kicks. Later, at the [...]
