Welcome to my blog. I write about fitting in, sticking out, and missing the motherland as a serial foreigner.

Dusty playground

Since most of our neighborhood travels during the summer (and due to the fact that it's 120F during the day), the playground down the street gets woefully neglected during these months. Every year when we come back, it's covered in a thick layer of dust. There's no immediate hope of rain to wash it off, either, since it never rains earlier than November-ish.

It's almost like a standoff - between the playground and the neighborhood kids; between the kids themselves. Who will go down that slide first? Who will sacrifice their clothes and bare feet to the coating of dust? Who is willing to risk the wrath of whoever does their laundry?

Every year, I think that I'll have the girls put on their swimsuits, grab a few buckets and sponges, and give the playground a good scrubbing (or at least rinsing). This year, I think we may actually have done so except for Magdalena's broken arm.

In any case, we were at the playground tonight (see 120F during the day, above) (and yes, it seems so unwholesome to be playing at the playground when it's dark outside, but it is fairly normal here) and someone had already plowed a path through the dust. No need for the bucket-and-sponge treatment this year!

August 29th, outsourced

A highly scientific analysis of Milka chocolate varieties