It’s day 29 of being home for winter break, and I am starting to get a taste of what it’s going to take to become a real woman living in the real world. I have high hopes of eventually being employed someday. If it happens, it will be magical.
The place does not have the glamorous, intricate interior one might expect from a European café. Rather, it features a scuffed linoleum floor, photographs of meal combos hung along the walls, and metal-topped bars that stretch the length of the narrow eatery.
Even families have hierarchies—I mean look at the Kardashians. My family hierarchy has always been clearly defined. My mom was the boss with the wallet, my brother just bossed me around, and I was the bottom of the bucket: the chump of the family. Then we got a dog.
When you die, one of the first things the hospital gives your loved ones is a plastic bag with your belongings.
From Vietnam to New York City, the Navajo Nation to the mall, FM scattered across the globe this J-Term.
In the mountains behind the football stadium in Berkeley, Calif. lies a narrow dirt path that the students call Fire Trails.
During my first semester of college I constantly talked about New York. I told everyone who would listen about my favorite Indian restaurant, about the Astroturf field behind my high school where we ate lunch (even on 20-degree days), about the East Village community garden where I wiled away hot summer afternoons.
La Juanita Finca Verde is nestled in the outskirts of Guatavita, a rural town just two hours from Bogotá.