This morning I woke to Mirta, our hostess, asking Ila how many sugars she would like in her coffee.
We've arrived in Bariloche and it's clear that we're going to be learning a lot about regular life in Argentina - like it or not! The house is beautiful. Mirta is wonderful. She's friendly, gracious and speaks slowly so we can keep up. She loves to garden and has a beautiful, landscaped yard overlooking the lake and snowcapped mountains. Unfortunately we're also far from the center of town where we have to go every day. Mirta doesn't have a car, she carpools or takes the bus into town and we'll probably take a taxi every morning (with three of us, it's basically more economical than the bus, and much more reliable). Also, we have very little privacy. We are staying in Mirta's two bedrooms while she sleeps on the couch! Our bedroom "door" - doesn't slide closed and we have to close our windows at night so stray cats don't come in. All that plus the whole toilet paper in the basket instead of the bowl thing makes for some serious getting used to. But all in all, we're planning on making the most of it. Mirta is kind and is doing everything to make us feel at home. We've been speaking Spanish since we arrived and I think we're all surprised how much we are able to communicate. Ila likes Mirta very much and thinks the house is just great. A playground and a few shops are close by so we're not terribly isolated or anything, just far from town.
Here's a list of a few key things we've learned thus far:
neighborhood dogs enjoy barking contents with roaming packs of strays. preferably at dawn.
dulce de leche (caramel cream on toast) isn't really that different from jelly.
a carseat isn't necessary since most taxis don't have seatbelts.
when liz said there's wireless everywhere, she must have meant nothing's wired.
big mountains are really pretty
slides and swings can be made of wood
the pope and buddha can live together in harmony, at least at Mirta's house
nescafe is a far cry from peet's.
one week can feel like a month.
the southern cross can help you find your way if you become lost in an island forest while hunting deer.
This afternoon we went into Bariloche proper for the first time. Mirta lives in Malipel, a small town about 5K outside of the city. The city proper is really intense. Lots of traffic, tons of shopping and plenty of tourists - mostly from Argentina and Chile it seems. We stopped by our school to check in and discovered that it's being run by a couple of Dutch folks. Figures. We start classes Monday and there are many "after-school activities" like bowling, hiking and dance classes to enjoy. They also do some volunteer work with children where Ila could participate.
We also went by Jardin Panda where Ila will spend the mornings while we're in class. It's a far cry from any schools we saw in the US. For one thing, the contract is a single piece of paper. It costs $240 Pesos per month, or about $90 US, for 25 hours a week, plus a whopping $50 pesos if you want to have them serve your child a hot meal. After visiting we understand the low overhead. The teacher/child ration is about 1/20. Ila of course jumped right in during our visit but the whole thing left us a bit uneasy. We're not concerned about Ila's safety, the Directora and her husband are both pediatricians and Mirta recommends them. But imagine your three year old surrounded by kids running wild, without a bit of the language. All we can do is try. If it doesn't work out, one of us will do private lessons in the afternoons and we'll split child care. We keep reminding ourselves that one intent of this trip was to learn a different way of doing things. And we are doing just that.
And Ila says - don't forget I love you.
Photos next time.
Wednesday, January 31, 2007
Tuesday, January 30, 2007
On to Bariloche...
January 29, 2007
We leave tomorrow for Bariloche. I’m anxious about the first part of our family-stay since we know so little Spanish. I imagine our host is used to it, but I’m tired of being unable to communicate. My Spanish hasn’t improved with the few basic transactions we have each day. I keep hoping the Korean family that runs the grocery around the corner will understand me since we’re all from the States – but this is not the case.
Saturday night we ended up at the plaza again. We intended to walk by, catch a little tango show and head elsewhere for dinner, but Ila befriended another little Argentine/Canadian girl and neither set of parents could bear to pull them apart. Jasmine was with three generations of adults and I think I was closest in age to the grandmother. Guess we’re old parents in these parts. Ila and Jasmine ran around the plaza for hours and both families skipped dinner opting instead for a late night snack on the way home. Unfortunately we stopped at what must be the Taco Bell of empanadas: a chain called Solo Empanadas. And strangely, Jasmine’s family ended up there too a few minutes behind us. I teased them for following the gringos. The empanadas were horrible, but poor Ila, filthy, exhausted and starving, inhaled a couple and passed out around midnight.
Sunday morning the narrow streets in our neighborhood were filled with people, music, crafts, street performers and antiques. We had a little café breakfast and wandered into the madness where we quickly made up for our bad empanada experience with the best one we’d had yet - from the depths of a laundry basket covered with a kitchen towel. Much more like it. It was Peter’s birthday so Ila and I were on our best behavior. Ila got a new dress and put it on just in time to tango with a mime on stilts. She’s a brave little girl. We had an “early” dinner at 8:30 at a somewhat formal and “very expensive” steak house where for about $60 we had a big yummy dinner and a bottle of wine.
I’m excited about our next destination, especially the language classes. We have our fingers crossed that the daycare we’ve identified for Ila turns out to be okay. Mostly I just want there to be kids her age to play with so she can break out from mom and dad a bit and have some fun. She’s really been a trooper, despite my complaints. I want her to have fun on this trip too.
We leave tomorrow for Bariloche. I’m anxious about the first part of our family-stay since we know so little Spanish. I imagine our host is used to it, but I’m tired of being unable to communicate. My Spanish hasn’t improved with the few basic transactions we have each day. I keep hoping the Korean family that runs the grocery around the corner will understand me since we’re all from the States – but this is not the case.
Saturday night we ended up at the plaza again. We intended to walk by, catch a little tango show and head elsewhere for dinner, but Ila befriended another little Argentine/Canadian girl and neither set of parents could bear to pull them apart. Jasmine was with three generations of adults and I think I was closest in age to the grandmother. Guess we’re old parents in these parts. Ila and Jasmine ran around the plaza for hours and both families skipped dinner opting instead for a late night snack on the way home. Unfortunately we stopped at what must be the Taco Bell of empanadas: a chain called Solo Empanadas. And strangely, Jasmine’s family ended up there too a few minutes behind us. I teased them for following the gringos. The empanadas were horrible, but poor Ila, filthy, exhausted and starving, inhaled a couple and passed out around midnight.
Sunday morning the narrow streets in our neighborhood were filled with people, music, crafts, street performers and antiques. We had a little café breakfast and wandered into the madness where we quickly made up for our bad empanada experience with the best one we’d had yet - from the depths of a laundry basket covered with a kitchen towel. Much more like it. It was Peter’s birthday so Ila and I were on our best behavior. Ila got a new dress and put it on just in time to tango with a mime on stilts. She’s a brave little girl. We had an “early” dinner at 8:30 at a somewhat formal and “very expensive” steak house where for about $60 we had a big yummy dinner and a bottle of wine.
I’m excited about our next destination, especially the language classes. We have our fingers crossed that the daycare we’ve identified for Ila turns out to be okay. Mostly I just want there to be kids her age to play with so she can break out from mom and dad a bit and have some fun. She’s really been a trooper, despite my complaints. I want her to have fun on this trip too.
Sunday, January 28, 2007
Can we come home yet?
First, thanks to all of you for the peanut butter feedback. I especially appreciate the anon suggestion that we try something different. Hmmm. I guess we could do that. And now that several people have weighed in, I'm pretty sure it's not a trick that it's actually called crema de cacahuate... but I still think that sounds a bit fishy...
Yesterday I decided I want to go home (wherever that might be!). It was a long day. Ila has been a handful. She’s started talking back and pitching a new kind of big-girl fit when she can’t get us to give in. She’s much harder to manage than she has been and with all of the upheaval, plus the fact that she’s three, it’s not a surprise. She misses her life in Oakland and I think that being here is reinforcing the fact that we’re really not going back. With this in mind, it’s hard to discipline her for bad behavior. And it’s not made easier by the fact that the sound of a sad child makes grown men pull candies out of their pockets, ancient old women come hobbling over with smiles and pats, and grouchy taxi drivers produce talking stuffed animals. How’s a mom supposed to lay down the law? When we do finally get back to the states we’ll have a very spoiled little nina indeed! I guess I did say I wanted to see how they raise kids here…
I’m sure our hours don’t help. We’ve had busy touristy mornings, late naps and long nights. Restaurants don’t open until after 8pm, so we’re not home for bed until 10. I’m dead tired myself and aching for old routines. But of course, this is all just parenting, and traveling, and moving - a lot to be doing at once. Today’s been better – thanks to a giant ice cream and an Ositos Carinosos (Care Bears) coloring book. See, I’m adapting!
Yesterday we went to the Jardin Zoologico in the northern neighborhood of Palermo. I’m not a fan of zoos, but Peter told me, once you buy the ticket, you might as well enjoy it, so I did. They let you feed the animals, which has the effect of making them somewhat tame. I smiled at an elephant and she walked over to me, put her foot over the moat that separated us and waved her trunk at me. We were just a few feet from touching. I told her I’d kidnap her and take her back to her home if I could, but that I didn’t know how. Ila’s favorites were the buffalo who accepted food at the end of a little wooden ramp that stretched from our fence to theirs, again just feet away. The camels and deer actually ate directly from people’s hands. We fed the deer, but skipped the camels. They were just too big. Also there for the feeding were feral cats, big ugly ducks and these beaver/rat things all of which wandered freely and gave me the total willies.
Today we went to the beautiful Cementario in Recoleta, another northern and more ritzy neighborhood. I forgot my camera and it was definitely the best photo op thus far. Typico. The cemetery was a maze of mausoleums, tourists and more feral cats. We paid our respects to Evita and played follow the leader until it was time for lunch, which we had in a café priced for touristas. Lunch was followed by the all-powerful ice cream at a super trendy heladeria called Freddo. Recoleta is very pretty. It is where you’ll find the most expensive shops and restaurants, pretty buildings with balconies dripping with green vines and flowers. It is also where we ran into the most Americans. Tomorrow, for Peter’s birthday, we’ll go to the famous San Telmo antique fair right in our neighborhood and probably a big steak house for dinner.
Speaking of Peter, I have to say that before we arrived I was sure I’d be the one to run the show here. Ordering food, asking for directions, sorting things out. After all, I planned the trip, found the apartment, arranged our pick ups and drop offs. I’m the one who’s been to South America. I’m the one who’s studied Spanish (sort of, anyway). But, it turns out – a surprise to no one but me I’m sure – that Peter’s taken the lead. He’s fearless. He speaks barely any Spanish, but he just tries and laughs and by the end of every transaction, he’s clearly made a friend. He’s not afraid of making an ass out of himself and so, he is often an ass but by being one ends up leaps and bounds ahead of the shrinking violet I become when faced with the possibility of being an imperfect American tourist. Plus, with his great sense of direction, he’s mastered the city – well, the part of the city printed on the back of a business card he was handed by a hawker for a hostel in the neighborhood anyway. His great memory is really serving him well here. Now if only I could get him to use it to remember how to use the computer…
PS – Ila says “And I love Annabel. And I saw a lot of cats yesterday and they smelled stinky. But guess what I got. I got a Happy Feet coloring book! Also I went pee in a square potty. And I flushed a potty with a chain! And for Christmas I got a little dolly with a blanket and I got a little Snow White outfit with a heart picture of her on the dress and on the crown. “
Yesterday I decided I want to go home (wherever that might be!). It was a long day. Ila has been a handful. She’s started talking back and pitching a new kind of big-girl fit when she can’t get us to give in. She’s much harder to manage than she has been and with all of the upheaval, plus the fact that she’s three, it’s not a surprise. She misses her life in Oakland and I think that being here is reinforcing the fact that we’re really not going back. With this in mind, it’s hard to discipline her for bad behavior. And it’s not made easier by the fact that the sound of a sad child makes grown men pull candies out of their pockets, ancient old women come hobbling over with smiles and pats, and grouchy taxi drivers produce talking stuffed animals. How’s a mom supposed to lay down the law? When we do finally get back to the states we’ll have a very spoiled little nina indeed! I guess I did say I wanted to see how they raise kids here…
I’m sure our hours don’t help. We’ve had busy touristy mornings, late naps and long nights. Restaurants don’t open until after 8pm, so we’re not home for bed until 10. I’m dead tired myself and aching for old routines. But of course, this is all just parenting, and traveling, and moving - a lot to be doing at once. Today’s been better – thanks to a giant ice cream and an Ositos Carinosos (Care Bears) coloring book. See, I’m adapting!
Yesterday we went to the Jardin Zoologico in the northern neighborhood of Palermo. I’m not a fan of zoos, but Peter told me, once you buy the ticket, you might as well enjoy it, so I did. They let you feed the animals, which has the effect of making them somewhat tame. I smiled at an elephant and she walked over to me, put her foot over the moat that separated us and waved her trunk at me. We were just a few feet from touching. I told her I’d kidnap her and take her back to her home if I could, but that I didn’t know how. Ila’s favorites were the buffalo who accepted food at the end of a little wooden ramp that stretched from our fence to theirs, again just feet away. The camels and deer actually ate directly from people’s hands. We fed the deer, but skipped the camels. They were just too big. Also there for the feeding were feral cats, big ugly ducks and these beaver/rat things all of which wandered freely and gave me the total willies.
Today we went to the beautiful Cementario in Recoleta, another northern and more ritzy neighborhood. I forgot my camera and it was definitely the best photo op thus far. Typico. The cemetery was a maze of mausoleums, tourists and more feral cats. We paid our respects to Evita and played follow the leader until it was time for lunch, which we had in a café priced for touristas. Lunch was followed by the all-powerful ice cream at a super trendy heladeria called Freddo. Recoleta is very pretty. It is where you’ll find the most expensive shops and restaurants, pretty buildings with balconies dripping with green vines and flowers. It is also where we ran into the most Americans. Tomorrow, for Peter’s birthday, we’ll go to the famous San Telmo antique fair right in our neighborhood and probably a big steak house for dinner.
Speaking of Peter, I have to say that before we arrived I was sure I’d be the one to run the show here. Ordering food, asking for directions, sorting things out. After all, I planned the trip, found the apartment, arranged our pick ups and drop offs. I’m the one who’s been to South America. I’m the one who’s studied Spanish (sort of, anyway). But, it turns out – a surprise to no one but me I’m sure – that Peter’s taken the lead. He’s fearless. He speaks barely any Spanish, but he just tries and laughs and by the end of every transaction, he’s clearly made a friend. He’s not afraid of making an ass out of himself and so, he is often an ass but by being one ends up leaps and bounds ahead of the shrinking violet I become when faced with the possibility of being an imperfect American tourist. Plus, with his great sense of direction, he’s mastered the city – well, the part of the city printed on the back of a business card he was handed by a hawker for a hostel in the neighborhood anyway. His great memory is really serving him well here. Now if only I could get him to use it to remember how to use the computer…
PS – Ila says “And I love Annabel. And I saw a lot of cats yesterday and they smelled stinky. But guess what I got. I got a Happy Feet coloring book! Also I went pee in a square potty. And I flushed a potty with a chain! And for Christmas I got a little dolly with a blanket and I got a little Snow White outfit with a heart picture of her on the dress and on the crown. “
Friday, January 26, 2007
Buenos Aires
(January 25th)
Whew! We made it!
We’re in Buenos Aires. Hard to believe. After all the talk, the procrastination, the second thoughts, we’ve arrived. I’m sitting in a tiny apartment in San Telmo, watching our socks dry in bus fumes on the balcony while Peter and Ila nap off a big morning of wandering about. Neither Peter nor I have been out of the U.S. much in ages and it’s already been an adventure trying to navigate the basic differences – milk in a bag, keys that look as though they might open a treasure chest, no apparent traffic laws, and the tiniest, thinnest, least absorbent paper napkins you’ve ever seen. They’re essentially a square of that eco-toilet paper you can buy at Berkeley Bowl.
Adventures started early when we missed our connection to B.A. in Miami. We had fifteen minutes to traverse the entire airport and gave it our best shot despite signs indicating we had at least a 16-minute walk ahead. Too much carry-on, a three-year old, foot-injuries not withstanding, we made it before the departure time, but found that the LAN flight had left five minutes early. So much for the mañana mentality we keep hearing applies to all things South American. In the end, a little pleading with the airlines and we (and our bags!!) made a later flight. Thanks to our amazing contacts here, we even had a driver waiting when we arrived the next morning.
Our apartment is on the sixth floor of an ugly, corner building on a busy street. Ten stories make it a high-rise in this particular neighborhood. The hallways are dark, it has no character, and it certainly doesn’t appear luxurious by American standards, but there’s a doorman and an elevator and I’m thinking it’s probably on the well-to-do side for the area. We feel very safe, it’s very clean and it was cheap. So it works.
In the nearly 36 hours we’ve been here we’ve mostly kept to the San Telmo neighborhood. It’s an area known for antiques, narrow cobblestone streets and beautiful older buildings. There are loads of cafes, bars and restaurants. We ate a very late dinner in a plaza packed with tables of people of all ages and backgrounds drinking wine and enjoying the warm night. Ila and a little girl name Juana played with Juana’s My Little Pony collection for an hour, laughing and singing together despite the fact that they didn’t share a language. Peter and I drank cold beers and slowly took in the fact that we’re so far from home. This morning we had a late breakfast, bought a stroller and walked until we could walk no more and poor Ila had a meltdown at the supermercado when we couldn’t find peanut butter. Does anyone know how to say peanut butter in Spanish? Do they make peanut butter in Spanish?
And so it begins. We’re tired, overwhelmed, homesick and very happy to be here. So far so good! Adios for now!
Ila's first empanada:
Whew! We made it!
We’re in Buenos Aires. Hard to believe. After all the talk, the procrastination, the second thoughts, we’ve arrived. I’m sitting in a tiny apartment in San Telmo, watching our socks dry in bus fumes on the balcony while Peter and Ila nap off a big morning of wandering about. Neither Peter nor I have been out of the U.S. much in ages and it’s already been an adventure trying to navigate the basic differences – milk in a bag, keys that look as though they might open a treasure chest, no apparent traffic laws, and the tiniest, thinnest, least absorbent paper napkins you’ve ever seen. They’re essentially a square of that eco-toilet paper you can buy at Berkeley Bowl.
Adventures started early when we missed our connection to B.A. in Miami. We had fifteen minutes to traverse the entire airport and gave it our best shot despite signs indicating we had at least a 16-minute walk ahead. Too much carry-on, a three-year old, foot-injuries not withstanding, we made it before the departure time, but found that the LAN flight had left five minutes early. So much for the mañana mentality we keep hearing applies to all things South American. In the end, a little pleading with the airlines and we (and our bags!!) made a later flight. Thanks to our amazing contacts here, we even had a driver waiting when we arrived the next morning.
Our apartment is on the sixth floor of an ugly, corner building on a busy street. Ten stories make it a high-rise in this particular neighborhood. The hallways are dark, it has no character, and it certainly doesn’t appear luxurious by American standards, but there’s a doorman and an elevator and I’m thinking it’s probably on the well-to-do side for the area. We feel very safe, it’s very clean and it was cheap. So it works.
In the nearly 36 hours we’ve been here we’ve mostly kept to the San Telmo neighborhood. It’s an area known for antiques, narrow cobblestone streets and beautiful older buildings. There are loads of cafes, bars and restaurants. We ate a very late dinner in a plaza packed with tables of people of all ages and backgrounds drinking wine and enjoying the warm night. Ila and a little girl name Juana played with Juana’s My Little Pony collection for an hour, laughing and singing together despite the fact that they didn’t share a language. Peter and I drank cold beers and slowly took in the fact that we’re so far from home. This morning we had a late breakfast, bought a stroller and walked until we could walk no more and poor Ila had a meltdown at the supermercado when we couldn’t find peanut butter. Does anyone know how to say peanut butter in Spanish? Do they make peanut butter in Spanish?
And so it begins. We’re tired, overwhelmed, homesick and very happy to be here. So far so good! Adios for now!
Ila's first empanada:
Monday, January 8, 2007
Feelin' Lucky
I would like to put in a plug for the Motorola v325. It’s that slightly bulky looking flip cell phone with black rubber around the edges. Sometimes the sound is a little funny, but yesterday mine survived a 15-minute, 40 mile per hour ride on the roof of our car. Impressive, no? But then, this is the kind of good fortune we’ve been having these days.
We live in a big house where we’re treated to delicious meals. Ila gets to feed a dog, watch TV with her uncle, eat cookies almost daily and call half the basement her playroom. We have access to a sweet little New York apartment smack dab in the middle of our old haunts. We have babysitters who not only want to take care of Ila, they do it for free. We get to hang around with my family (most everyone anyway) for hours at a time without the pressure of imminent departure. And, everyone’s been getting along really well. On top of that, our travel plans have finally come together.
We’re leaving on January 23rd for Buenos Aires where we’ll spend about a week before we head down to Bariloche in the Patagonian lake district. In Bariloche we’re signed on with a language school that’s also, amazingly, helping us find childcare and a place to live. My friend Liz called yesterday to give me the good news that she’ll be passing through Bariloche at least twice during our stay. So we’ll even have visitors! We expect to spend a couple of months there with a side trip or two. Our plan after that is not firm, but I’m hoping we’ll head over to Chile for a while, then back to Argentina to spend some time in some of the northern towns.
Other than that, with so much time on our hands, we’ve actually been, what you might call “relaxing.” I’m not much familiar with this concept, so I’m not certain, but whatever it is, it feels nice. My sister called yesterday and asked what we’d been up to and I was hard pressed to come up with any activities that had actually produced a tangible result of some kind. It took me a day to realize that I’m actually proud of this fact.
The warm weather has us visiting some of the many amazing parks nearby. Saturday we walked around Pepsi Headquarters, a ten-acre complex of gardens and huge sculptures open to the public. On Sunday, Tod’s Point, a Greenwich park on the Long Island Sound, was packed with families, dogs and folks merrily chatting about global warming while tossing dry Christmas trees and wreaths on a pile for the wood chipper. The wildlife also has spring fever. Much to the delight of a resident hawk, small birds are out in huge numbers in the backyard, along with Disneyesque squirrels slowed by their overstuffed bellies and winter fluff.
We spent New Year’s weekend in New York City with my sister and her family. Among other awesome New Yorky things, Peter, Ila and I visited the Natural History Museum and checked out the cool dinosaur fossils and the living butterfly exhibit. A day or two in the City and I want to move there. I know we'd have to live in a dark basement studio and sell our souls back to the Man, but, we'd be New Yorkers! It's hard not to get caught back up in the feeling that any place else is just crap. Of course, you also drop ten bucks on tea and a cookie. And mostly the happy looking people are tourists, heiresses or people with rent-controlled apartments. But it’s fun to think about.
Christmas was the usual. Overdone despite all of our promises to the contrary. I think my favorite illustration of my personal struggle with Christmas was the fact that I gave my brother-in-law an economics book about “Life after Capitalism” but missed watching him open it because I was greedily digging into my own shamefully large pile of gifts. Gotta love it.
Much love all!
Stand up Ila
New Friends
We live in a big house where we’re treated to delicious meals. Ila gets to feed a dog, watch TV with her uncle, eat cookies almost daily and call half the basement her playroom. We have access to a sweet little New York apartment smack dab in the middle of our old haunts. We have babysitters who not only want to take care of Ila, they do it for free. We get to hang around with my family (most everyone anyway) for hours at a time without the pressure of imminent departure. And, everyone’s been getting along really well. On top of that, our travel plans have finally come together.
We’re leaving on January 23rd for Buenos Aires where we’ll spend about a week before we head down to Bariloche in the Patagonian lake district. In Bariloche we’re signed on with a language school that’s also, amazingly, helping us find childcare and a place to live. My friend Liz called yesterday to give me the good news that she’ll be passing through Bariloche at least twice during our stay. So we’ll even have visitors! We expect to spend a couple of months there with a side trip or two. Our plan after that is not firm, but I’m hoping we’ll head over to Chile for a while, then back to Argentina to spend some time in some of the northern towns.
Other than that, with so much time on our hands, we’ve actually been, what you might call “relaxing.” I’m not much familiar with this concept, so I’m not certain, but whatever it is, it feels nice. My sister called yesterday and asked what we’d been up to and I was hard pressed to come up with any activities that had actually produced a tangible result of some kind. It took me a day to realize that I’m actually proud of this fact.
The warm weather has us visiting some of the many amazing parks nearby. Saturday we walked around Pepsi Headquarters, a ten-acre complex of gardens and huge sculptures open to the public. On Sunday, Tod’s Point, a Greenwich park on the Long Island Sound, was packed with families, dogs and folks merrily chatting about global warming while tossing dry Christmas trees and wreaths on a pile for the wood chipper. The wildlife also has spring fever. Much to the delight of a resident hawk, small birds are out in huge numbers in the backyard, along with Disneyesque squirrels slowed by their overstuffed bellies and winter fluff.
We spent New Year’s weekend in New York City with my sister and her family. Among other awesome New Yorky things, Peter, Ila and I visited the Natural History Museum and checked out the cool dinosaur fossils and the living butterfly exhibit. A day or two in the City and I want to move there. I know we'd have to live in a dark basement studio and sell our souls back to the Man, but, we'd be New Yorkers! It's hard not to get caught back up in the feeling that any place else is just crap. Of course, you also drop ten bucks on tea and a cookie. And mostly the happy looking people are tourists, heiresses or people with rent-controlled apartments. But it’s fun to think about.
Christmas was the usual. Overdone despite all of our promises to the contrary. I think my favorite illustration of my personal struggle with Christmas was the fact that I gave my brother-in-law an economics book about “Life after Capitalism” but missed watching him open it because I was greedily digging into my own shamefully large pile of gifts. Gotta love it.
Much love all!
Stand up Ila
New Friends
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