How I Have Learned to Translate “big” into “tall” and Other Thoughts While Walking Through My Town



I am so excited to be guest posting today over at Rachel Pieh Jones’ blog. I kind of think of Rachel as an expert in cross-cultural living, mothering & writing as an expat living in Djibouti. And if we’re ever in the same country I would jump on the chance to grab coffee with her just to listen and learn from her. I think you’ll find her perspective refreshing, honest and challenging.

A while ago she invited readers who to share what they observed while strolling through their town. It’s been a fascinating series with women writing about life in Cambodia, Tanzania, Russia, Ireland and about every other country in between!

So I wrote about life in Guatemala. Some of you know last year I did a little project of my own to appreciate and take note of my town. You can follow along on instragram with the hashtag #mytownGuatemala to get a glimpse.

Here’s my piece from Rachel’s blog:

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Most afternoons before the sun starts to fade I put my daughter in our oversized stroller and push her up the hill from our house. We walk through two metal gates to get to the street. She waves at the white dog that always sits by the corner looking for scraps of food. We pass a woman balancing a basket on her head. She greets us, “Buenas Tardes” and then pauses to smile at my daughter. Babies are universal conversation starters. She asks, how old she is and then comments, “Esta bien grande” I smile, knowing from personal experience, that to be called “big” is a compliment. In my head I have learned to translate “big” into “tall.”

To read the rest click here:

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Also, if you’re looking for some more of Rachel’s work, these are a few of my favorite essays and posts of hers | This piece from the NY Times Modern Love Column | The Proper Weight of Fear | Rethinking the Christmas Story | I Don’t Promise To Keep My Kids Safe



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