Housesitting, pet sitting. The dogs are like funny children, they don’t like other dogs but they love people, they run around always hungry and usually gassy. The cat is a mixed bag with a loud yell who is always trying to snuggle the dogs and does not get very much love in return. The house is big and comfortable, there are a few weeks left to enjoy the ocean views and green grassy yard and extensive couches.
The possible move, which had been hanging over everything, is not going ahead. Things are staying here now. This is probably a good outcome, the right outcome.
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This time last year, eating cake in a cheap but clean hotel room by a long haul bus station in Northern Peru, very close to ending nearly six months total in Latin America spread over seven countries. There were other places to be and plans had eventually been made that would lead to Asia.
Learning about Latin American history, the small amount crammed in through these months, was like going back to the first year of university: the mind bending experience of suddenly knowing absolutely nothing about the world and, as a result, rapidly seeing things differently. Prior to this trip I didn’t know if I would ever experience that feeling again – the special kind of wonder being a pragmatic adult had seemed to mean less and less of.
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Talk to five different young Colombians about national politics, get five different – and usually very detailed – answers. Ask the Quechua-speaking guide about conditions for people living in the mountains of Peru today and get an answer that isn’t polished up for happy tourism purposes. Learn about the impacts of Ecuadorean trade policy by hearing from the people in small towns dealing with some of the challenges there now. Speak to middle class twenty-something Mexicans about whether the narco violence has impacted them and, if so, how. Hear from a Panamanian soldier about what it’s like to patrol the no-mans-land Darien gap that leads to Colombia (admit to yourself that before actually arriving in Panama you were not aware of the Darien gap at all). Let young Nicaraguans tell you what it’s like to try and get ahead, about how their mom thinks it’s about time they get married and what you should really mix your rum with. Meet an awful lot of Venezuelans that are just like you, who can’t go home, who are kinder than they need to be. Have a kid in the mountains of Colombia who is explaining the basics of coffee bean picking tell you in an aside that one of his favorite bands is from Winnipeg.
Make people regularly chuckle with your bad creative Spanish. Pick up, and then mix up, colloquialisms that somehow shift at every border. Become so adapted to basic Spanish that by the time you actually get to Spain it’s automatic to lead with Spanish in any given transaction without concerns of not being understood or shyness or hope that the person you are speaking to may speak better English than your Spanish… and realize that, ah, that guy is rather speaking Basque.
Laugh when you then get to the Middle East and your travel companion is still muttering “si” and “gracias” to some very confused Arabic speakers.
Filed under: Uncategorized
Daniel Dae Kim was having brunch at a very average place downtown with one of the leads from The Good Doctor (not a surprise, he’s an executive producer). Walking by the window where they were sitting I saw her first and recognized her, because I’d seen her around quite a bit before, and looked back as I passed to see who she was eating with because I’m nosy like that.
Daniel Dae Kim is a beautiful human being.
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I was in L.A. for a self-styled art galleries and tacos tour; no Hollywood. One gallery and one session of tacos per day was generally enough so the rest of the time was spent wearing all black at the beach or burning Classpass credits. The class was kind of hardcore, a version of something I liked to take at home, and everyone coming or going was California Beach Fit.
Missy Peregrym walked in and without even fully seeing her I knew it was her because for a brief period in my life I binged an awful lot of the delightful Canadian police series Rookie Blue and she looks… exactly the same in person as on the show. I pretended not to have watched a lot of Rookie Blue, and that I didn’t recognize her, because that seemed like the polite thing to do. This was weirdly one of my favorite celebrity sightings ever, I mean, it’s ANDY McNALLY.
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I was crossing the street and saw a guy that I felt like I knew, maybe from work or maybe from a party? Rushing to yoga class with my mat in a bag over my shoulder, we made eye contact and because I was sure I knew him and didn’t want to be rude I gave him a big “hey, good to see you again” smile, and he looked and me and gave me a big smile, and then out of the blue some girl behind me screamed “IT’S YOU!” and his smile immediately disappeared, he ducked his head and I think started to walk quickly or lightly jog. Poor Cole Sprouse.
Filed under: foreigner
Since returning this time each place I’ve stayed, other than two weeks with friends, has had a domestic worker at least twice per week.
It’s generally awkward.
It’s awkward because I vastly prefer doing my own laundry. I’m particular about what is washed and how it’s washed and how it’s dried and whether it’s sorted and if it’s turned inside out and pretty much every step of the process. So I pretend I don’t have laundry. And I don’t want to be offensive, somehow suggesting that they aren’t good enough at doing laundry. It’s not you, it’s me, and my delicates too. But I also can’t have any other clothes with elastic-blend content fried beyond use because for reasons unknown everything sometimes gets ironed. At the last house, this included enthusiastically trying to press some swimming shorts, resulting in burning.
It’s awkward because each house has different rules and expectations and relationships and we’re just temporary, trying to navigate a complicated relationship. In the current situation, while she’s here, she makes meals during her working hours and eats whatever she wants from the fridge. Which is a bit of a thing to get used to – like a roommate that helps themselves to your groceries but that you can’t really be mad at because they’re also cleaning the bathroom. She’s also not my employee so it feels a bit weird to suggest that I was planning on using that block of cheese for dinner later so perhaps she could have a different kind of sandwich.
It’s awkward because most of my work is currently done from here, which means that twice a week I need to be somewhat presentable somewhat early and refrain from using the shower or kitchen for most of the day, at least until she’s done, because how can you go in and mess up something that someone has just cleaned? So for one third of the week during the day, it’s being in the house, but trying not to be in the house.
The alternative is to suggest they not come, but that means not getting paid. Paying her to not come, if it ever came out, would be a violation of the Rules, and there’s no way to know that it won’t come out. And it’s unfair to ask someone to not be paid.
So twice a week it is.
Underthecurrent 