A (Tentative) Defense of Political Facebook Posts

My case is particular: I’m passionate about US politics, but I live in Peru about half the year. Mailing anything to the USA entails a 15-min drive in hellish Lima traffic and a fee of at least a few dollars (not cents). Making phone calls to US offices generally requires entering 7 extra digits and…

Ruffled as Hell

An acquaintance recently shared that at a party, during a talk on politics, a man disguising his foolishness as nonchalance told her not to let Trump “ruffle her feathers.” Alright, bud. I get that you’ve seen a lot of movies where it’s cool to calmly walk away from an explosion. But this time, the explosion?…

Mentally Dealing with Trump (as a Liberal Kentuckian Expat)

So Trump is awful. But I already knew that. My struggle now is… what the hell should I do? Not in terms of “call to action”, but with my actual day-to-day mindset. “Well,” says the Internet, rolling his hungover ass off my sofa in a shower of disgruntled cats, “You’ve basically got four options.” (1) “Fuck…

Germinando Vida

For about four or five years back in college, I was happily pescatarian (no meats except fish). For the most part, this was super easy for me: I love tofu and beans, and good “vegetarian food” (which should more fairly be called “cooking vegetables right”) is phenomenal. Roasted brussels sprouts, candied carrots, broiled asparagus, tomato-basil-mozzarella salad,…

Staycation in Truquillo

This summer, my husband and I took our fluffy dog-child on a vacation. We woke up early, piled the whole family into the car, and started driving north. We exited artsy little Barranco, inched our way through deadly city traffic, and finally burst out onto the open one-way highway threading through the desert. A few hours…

LA 73: Paradero Gourmet

Earlier this year, LA 73 hosted a massive Chinese New Year block party. In true Peruvian style, people flocked to the small restaurant, quickly overwhelmed the bar and little outdoor seating area, poured onto the sidewalk and street, and steadily got smashed (loudly but peacefully) until the sun came up. The last thing I remember was Ivo carrying our fluffy…

La Rosa Nautica

There he was. Sprawled majestically down the filthy reception stairs of my cheap student housing dorm in Bristol, England. His hangover was evident: Squinting bloodshot eyes. Hoarse voice. Slurred words. Yesterday’s clothes. I don’t remember exactly what I said when he groaned and lifted himself up off the stairs just enough to ask for my number. I…