Cultural

The Day “Grab a Pen” Became “Sleep With a Pen” I was fresh off a redeye from Santo Domingo and running late for my first

I used to think a “sandwich” was a sandwich—until the day I ordered one in Bogotá and the waiter asked if I wanted my emparedado

The Moment “Cool” Fractured into Three One Friday night at a rooftop bar in Medellín I found myself juggling three beers, three currencies, and three

A Tale of Two Taxi Drivers My first week in Medellín, a taxi driver serenaded me with polite “¿Cómo estás, parce? ¿Pa’ dónde vamos, pues?”—all

Waves slapped the Malecón wall in Havana, a salt mist haloing my notebook. I was jotting prices for pan con lechón when the vendor leaned

I thought I had Spanish wired after ten years toggling Dominican merengue chatter and Colombian paisa precision. Then a layover in Santiago turned into a

Few language shocks rival standing on a Cádiz pier at sunset, overhearing fishermen swap banter that sounds like Spanish chopped into guitar riffs: “¿Quilló, vamo

I first tasted the power of Mexican mini-suffixes on a scorching afternoon in Cartagena. A backpacker from Oaxaca spotted my Dominican flag patch and asked,

The first time a Canarian surfer handed me a banana at Playa de las Canteras, he winked and said, “Toma, un plátano canario pa’ que

A humid night in Santo Domingo, I sat nursing a presidente beer with a porteño traveler named Martín. We were swapping Dominican and Colombian dichos