On the large hibachi-style grill, the cook flipped meat and the fresh tortilla shells that would hold the meat as he mouthed lyrics to the song playing in the market. It was a popular rap song and I bobbed my head to the familiar rhythm while I watched him work. In about five minutes, a large burrito and four tacos al pastor* were steaming in our faces. I forgot I wasn’t hungry.
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Outside of the Parque Delta Mall, our Uber driver pulled up to my boyfriend & I with his windows rolled down. I considered how hot and humid the weather was and wondered why our Uber driver and half the cars I had seen in Mexico City neglected air conditioning. When we got in, he put […]
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I buried my nose deep into Trevor Noah’s Born A Crime as the bus sputtered and stopped for the third time in less than 10 minutes, intent on ignoring the fact that we would not be arriving D.C at 10pm like we were supposed to. In my usual way, I started to think of the […]
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A light wind blew air heavy with the scent of salt into my nose as I ran into the roadside gas station with my mom holding my hand. She had pulled me out of the way of a reversing truck, tugging on my arm so hard it hurt. “We came to Key West to have […]
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Sunscreen-clad, I leaned forward to let the last rays of sunlight touch my face. For a few minutes, it felt good, warm. With something by Bon Iver crooning in my ears, lyrics at the tip of my tongue, I closed my eyes against the sun. From the small square kitchen window in our apartment, I […]
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I like to read about where people have been, but a significant interest for me lies in the food from those places. Although I often run out of ways to describe what something tasted like, I hardly shy away from sharing. Am I your expert guide to food in NYC? that’s a hard no, but […]
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Rewind to about a month ago when it was freezing and windy in NYC and I thought it’d be a good idea to walk across the Brooklyn Bridge. You’d think something was pullng me towards it or that I hadn’t done it before.
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“There’s something about the Fanta in Nigeria, it’s sweeter as if sugar cane was used to sweeten it; the Fanta here [in the U.S] doesn’t taste as sweet”. These words are from a conversation I had with my cousin years ago. It was the first time I had ever considered that the Fanta I drank in Florida tasted different in Nigeria.
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8 years ago we were teenagers trying to escape the confines of our boarding school as quickly as possible; now there we were at brunch, thousands of miles from said school, independent, talking about our lives as young adults. It felt surreal.
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