Thursday, February 23, 2012

Anna Was a Fully-Grown Independent Woman With a Car and a House on the Hill

My Spanish is improving, so it’s not as exhausting to speak it all the time.  It’s actually the toughest when I’m with gringos and Peruvians and have to go back and forth.  I’m even forgetting some English words.  I was talking to my mom the other day about how she went hiking in Pennypack during a warm February day.  I wanted to say that she was taking advantage of the nice day, but all I could think of was “aprovechar.” 
The barrier can be frustrating because my self-expression suffers a lack of eloquence, but there’s a freedom to being the best English speaker within miles.  I can get away with a good deal.
Unfortunately, my family knows the word, “shit” and all attention turns to me whenever I say it on the phone or yell at the chickens. 
I was in my office the other day and was feeling pooped.  The clear remedy was filthy hip-hop.  It was so fun to play and sing along to “Coochie” and “Make Her Say” in my office within earshot of any official that walked by and be totally safe.  It’s nice to find small pleasures in things that are otherwise daunting challenges. 

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