I Moved to Quito, Ecuador

I Moved to Quito, Ecuador

Landing in Quito, Ecuador

Maybe there was a part of me that was on autopilot. Not only was I numb to the fear of such a foreign place, but it hadn’t yet hit me that I wasn’t going to university next year like all my friends. No, I was doing something better, I was going on an adventure; the world was Peter Pan and I was Wendy. I was still just a teenager floating around, apathetic. I still surprise myself at how quickly I adjusted to life in Ecuador, how normal it became. Yet, I had just entered a country that would later feel like a prison to me.

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I Moved to Louisiana

I Moved to Louisiana

What’s Gumbo?

Louisiana. Land of bayous, Mardi Gras, and gumbo, or so I was told (Can someone please explain to me what the fuck gumbo is?)

We had rented a green SUV to drive all the way from Maine. I spent most of the time listening to Eminem songs on my laptop, so happy to leave everyone and everything behind. We arrived right after a hurricane. Every hotel was booked and all we could find was one room left at the Motel 6. It was like walking into a strip club in Thailand and realizing all the women have dicks; horrifying. The toilet hadn’t been flushed, the sheets were dirty, and there were fleas in the carpet and bed bugs in the blankets. We were in the bad part of the city where you could hear gun shots, and loud mouth people on the balcony. There were drug dealers on the street down below in the parking lot.

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My House Was the Money Pit

My House Was the Money Pit

Two Pillars Make a House

The house I grew up in was a giant, awe-inspiring white house with 2 pillars in the front that cast a long shadow onto the street below. It had a long row of blue steps tilting in various directions and not safe enough to walk on. In the U.S. these are the kind of stairs people like to fall and “break their necks” on so they can sue you. A tree with purple leaves sat in the side yard with perfect climbing branches. I used to go up there and read when I wanted some privacy to be with my teenage thoughts, or to drop dirt on the heads of passersby.

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I Grew Up in a Small Town

i grew up in a small town

Growing Up in a Small Town

I like to see if anything has changed, if I have changed. I have this daydream about going back there and seeing everyone I went to high school with. These were people who made me feel uncomfortable on a daily basis, always calling me “the quiet girl.” I walk into our 10 year reunion and everyone gasps; they are shocked at how good looking, smart, and worldly I’ve become. As we stand around the punch bowl and stale cookies I talk like I’m Indiana Jane, and amaze the crowd that has now formed, with stories of my foreign adventures. While growing up in a small town, it’s the big fantasy.

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