So this city and I have been seeing each other for a while now. In fact, we're coming up on our two-year anniversary of living together. Like any couple, we've been through rough patches, mostly involving dog poop and damp, unrelenting cold. Still, we've managed to work through our difficulties -- and learn quite a bit about each other in the process. Indeed, there a number of things about me that only this city knows. Here are a few:
-I talk to stray dogs. In Spanish, of course.
-I lean back whenever the subway train pulls into the station because I'm afraid a psychopath is going to come and push me onto the tracks.
-Whenever I see a "for rent" sign in a window, I peer inside and imagine how I would decorate the place.
-I secretly wish I had gone to high school in Chile so I could have worn leg warmers over my uniform tights.
-I will go out of my way to walk down any street that is narrow, has cobblestones and is lined with slightly decrepit buildings.
-I would love to be a pokemona for a week. Or longer.
-I feel a burst of self-satisfaction every time I make a purchase in a neighborhood corner store instead of at the supermarket.
-I eat a lot of candy and chips. A lot.
-I'm jealous of the people who work in the Metro because I suspect there's a secret subterranean world that they know about and I don't.
-I'm a sucker for anything sold on a blanket on the sidewalk.
-Sometimes I entertain myself by seeing how many Metro stations I can recite in order.
-I resent brand-new apartment high rises but envy the view from their balconies.
-When walking on the street, I love when a car pulls up blasting reggaeton so I can stomp along to the beat.
Now it's your turn, reader. Fess up.
The woman who saved my artichoke
1 week ago