On my 22nd Birthday

To My Twenties
By Kenneth Koch

How lucky that I ran into you
When everything was possible
For my legs and arms, and with hope in my heart
And so happy to see any woman—
O woman! O my twentieth year!
Basking in you, you
Oasis from both growing and decay
Fantastic unheard of nine- or ten-year oasis
A palm tree, hey! And then another
And another—and water!
I’m still very impressed by you. Whither,
Midst falling decades, have you gone? Oh in what lucky fellow,
Unsure of himself, upset, and unemployable
For the moment in any case, do you live now?
From my window I drop a nickel
By mistake. With
You I race down to get it
But I find there on
The street instead, a good friend,
X— N—, who says to me
Kenneth do you have a minute?
And I say yes! I am in my twenties!
I have plenty of time! In you I marry,
In you I first go to France; I make my best friends
In you, and a few enemies. I
Write a lot and am living all the time
And thinking about living. I loved to frequent you
After my teens and before my thirties.
You three together in a bar
I always preferred you because you were midmost
Most lustrous apparently strongest
Although now that I look back on you
What part have you played?
You never, ever, were stingy.
What you gave me you gave whole
But as for telling
Me how best to use it
You weren’t a genius at that.
Twenties, my soul
Is yours for the asking
You know that, if you ever come back.

Because Poets Deserve Shameless Promotion from Friends

Read "My Lousiana Love" by Anne Barngrover in Poets for Living Waters-- "a poetry action in response to the BP oil disaster in the Gulf of Mexico."

My Summer

This should cover the frequently asked "what are you up to?" questions I have fielded since graduation.

Spanglish (3)

Continuing with our ongoing series about the Gringo-Ecuadorian dialect of Spanglish:

Tomar:
For our purposes, it almost exclusively means “to drink.” So you tomar [boiled] water, tomar una coca-cola, or tomar un Pilsener.

Pilsener:
THE Ecuadorian beer. If you walk into any drinking establishment and just say "cerveza"-- this bland, bud-light-esque ale is probably what you'll get. Ordering an imported (read: more expensive) beer is a classically snobbish mistake gringos make in Ecuador. Pilsener is a brand of national pride (see this catalog of national beers from around the world).

Chuchaqui:
Hungover. Technically a Quichua word, "chuchaqui" has been incorporated into Ecuadorian Spanish, and is probably my favorite word ever. Once gringos learn it, they rarely say in English again. Example: "You'll have to excuse me, I'm still super chuchaqui from last night."

Spanglish (2)

Ecua-: [this one is important to my dialect of Spanglish. it merits its own post.]
1.) Prefix. Goes in front of a noun that, while it may exist in the USA, is wholly different in an Ecuadorian context. Example: “I went to the market with my Ecuasister. Later, we made an Ecuapizza with campo cheese.” --> Note that it would be inappropriate to say “sister” because she’s not your sister by blood, but your host or Ecuasister. Likewise, it would be inappropriate to say “pizza” because, in your mind, pizza made with campo cheese makes it different enough to be Ecuapizza.

2.) "Ecua" can also be a stand-alone word. For instance, you might say: "Those pants are SO Ecua" when a gringa friend buys a pair of pants that she could/would only purchase in Ecuador. Or I might say "It's August and I still don't know anything about my Fulbright year. Typical Ecua."

Spanglish (Intro + 1)

There are many dialects of Spanglish. My specialty (Gringo-Ecuadorian) is born when two or more native English speakers meet in Ecuador. Spanish gets thrown around when it's convenient, logical, funny, or when they forget how to speak English. What results is a hybrid language that uniquely represents the experience of being a gringo in Ecuador. Here's a partial attempt to catalog this linguistic phenomenon, dedicated to the 20 or so individuals who practice with me on a regular basis.

The Campo:
1.) The country, or something rural. So if a gringo says, “I’ll be in the campo next week," it means they’re going to a rural area and won’t be able to update their facebook status.

2.) Campo can also mean "field." Anthropologists keep a “diario de campo” or a “field journal,” where they take lots of notes about mundane things and make all the locals feel awkward.

Campo cheese:
THE cheese in Ecuador. It’s a white, fresh cheese, packaged in water, so it’s usually wet when served raw. (note: it probably doesn’t come from the campo… but accuracy is not what Gringo Spanglish is about). After some digging, I’ve decided there is no equivalent cheese here in the United States-- the queso blanco/queso fresco at the Mexican grocery store is a bit different. I suspect it's the stinky cousin of fresh mozzarella. WARNING: Many arguments have ensued between gringos about the relative value of campo cheese. Personally, I find it nauseating, and my body can't digest it.

Piled High and Deeper

This fall, because the whole Ecuador business wasn't enough, I'm applying to Ph.D. programs in Sociocultural Anthropology. And Ph.D. Comics (Piled High and Deeper) is my new favorite distraction from writing admissions and fellowship applications. The entire comic strip is devoted to the absurdities of academia. Sometimes, a cynical reminder of just what I'm getting myself into is exactly what I need. (see 200 most popular PhD comics here).