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In Ecuador you do not say “Adios”

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“In every language, there seem to be certain ‘unmentionables’—words of such strong affective connotations that they cannot be used in polite discourse.”  Language in Thought and Action,  S.I Hayakawa and Alan R. Hayakawa What are these so-called unmentionables?  Perhaps your mind goes first to bad words, like the f- word or racial slurs like the n-word, or other derogatory words like the r- word for people who are developmentally  disabled. Or perhaps suppressed words, like those pertaining to menstruation or sex. Or perhaps you are thinking of words that are thought to wield magical powers like saying the word “quiet” on a labor and delivery floor when not much is happening (Don’t do it, the nurses will kill you). In all cultures there are simply words you do not say.  One, surprisingly important unmentionable in Ecuador is the word Adios . Whereas Adios  is commonly used to mean “goodbye” or “see you later” in Mexico, Spain, and much of the rest of the Spanish-speaking world, in Ecua

Sweet memories

It has struck me countless times this past week that many of the sensory experiences of life that have become mundane will be sweet memories in just a few day's time: the early morning crow of the roosters, the catchy jingle of the gas truck, the wind in the back of a  camioneta , the aroma of roasting plantains, the stickiness of life in the tropics.  It has also struck me that my children's Spanish may never be as voluble as it is in this moment -- they wake, live and dream in Spanish. They play card games and basketball in Spanish; they harvest oranges and yuca in Spanish; they observe the world around them almost entirely in Spanish. In fact, it is not uncommon for us to be alone on a walk and have Brynna speak to me only in Spanish. I am a bit tender about lots of things this week, but at this very moment, I am sad to imagine that, as we transition back to an English-centric world, they will lose some of their skill and fluency. It is perhaps even sadder to think that they

A behind the scenes look at transitions (otherwise known as packing)

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This morning, we woke up and began the painful packing process. Yes, packing up even a 450 square foot house without a single closet is unpleasant.  Which drawings do we keep? Which do we toss? What do we do with half-done lanyards? Old tennis shoes? What about broken erasers? And the English-language books? Puzzles that are missing pieces? And so begins what feels like an annual mindfulness project. . . *** It is not all bad. The most enjoyable part of packing is making individual gift bags for many of the kids here: one for Leyver and Emerson, one for Luis and Neymar, one for Jeryko and Ariel, one for Aitana. . .and so on.  Who would want the flag memory game?  The true answer is "Everyone"-- it is hands down the hit game of the year. There is something notably compelling about those flags!  "But who could we give the memory game to that would share it with others?" asks Jonah.  What about the good markers?  Sandy . The shape shifting cube?  Leyver . The puzzles? 

This Kid (2)

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This kid is six and a half. He is Brynna's best friend and the happiest child I have ever met. His silliness is infectious. His smile lights up a room, despite his terrible cavities. His buoyancy rivals Brynna's -- perhaps one of the reasons they make such good playmates. Or perhaps it is his robust imagination. He loves playing house. And dress-up. And hide and seek. And walkie talkies (He calls them " doki d okis" ).  Or perhaps it is because he lives a stone's throw away and lies in wait each morning for our front door to open. And stays until the darkness scares him home (or otherwise drags Brynna to his house). They have a blast together: giggling, bathing, running in circles, being silly silly silly. He is a very picky eater. He hates anything I feed him, except for treats: freshly baked cookies, bagels, and chocolate are a-okay. He doesn't even like peanut butter or guacamole! I believe he doesn't really like real food because he munches on an unend

The Rio Quindigua runs through here

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The great  Rio Quindigua  toned down her winter roar the last couple of weeks, allowing us back on her banks and into her waters for the first time in months. We are taking advantage of the calm and beauty while we have a chance! There were weeks during February, March,  April, even May that the river seemed so angry that she would never welcome us again. Amidst a season of torrential tropical rains, she would repeatedly get herself all worked up, raise her voice, and churn unabashedly and violently, not unlike an upset toddler. She refused to leave her neighbors out of it, pulling chunks of mountains along, creating new tributaries, and tearing down any number of natural and man made structures. Huge boulders were no match for her ire. Nor were old growth trees, roads or bridges. Such is life in the tropics. The rainy season: when the rivers throw temper tantrums, quite literally, and locals are inured to electricity outages, roads being washed out, bridges being ripped off their pili

Aracaris and motmots and squirrel cuckoos, oh my!

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Plus parakeets, tanagers, falcons, hawks, ornate flycatchers (so-called for their fancy plumage). And more. Dillon and Paul have been taking full advantage of our last few days in Ecuador to rise before the sun and birdwatch around the outskirts of La Josefina. They have been duly rewarded for their early waking.  They are also getting better and better at using the binoculars carefully positioned with Paul's phone to snap pretty awesome pictures (this is how all the photos below were taken). This little slice of heaven --  a town that cannot boast a place marker on Google maps -- does not cease to amaze and astound us. How beautiful and diverse the bird world is when one stops to look up! How strange it is that I have lived 45 years on this planet barely doing so, despite having lived in the tropics within arm's reach of an ornithologist and in Berkeley for a few years with another one. How wonderful it is to be on a perpetual treasure hunt with my sweet tween, who is healthil

From rationing to releasing

For the last 12 months, we have been rationing our resources. You name it, we have conserved it, apportioned it, and allotted it: from Skippy peanut butter, to Earl Gray tea, to cheddar cheese, to dark chocolate. From Crayola markers to Ticonderoga pencils to embroidery thread to temporary tattoos. From shrinky-dinks to jigsaw puzzles to body wash.  From maple syrup to soy sauce to Scotch tape. I am the chief control freak on this project, and I am afraid I have passed some of my neuroticism onto my kiddos. The thing is every little thing feels more precious when it is not readily replaceable, when Amazon Prime is a pipe dream, when the nearest Target is 5000 miles away. The truth is, everything IS more precious. And yet, now we find ourselves, at the tail end of this journey, and it is time to let go.  It is an admittedly sharp turnabout to go from rationing to releasing.  It is time to bake another big batch of chocolate chip cookies and use up that chocolate. Time to smear as much p