Halloween costumes at the La Pedrera primary school! From left: My student, Freddy as Anxiety; my mentor, Noelia, as a witch; Agustina as Disgust; me as Linus from It's The Great Pumpkin Charlie Brown; and Flor as Sadness.
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Disclaimer
This blog, this post, and all related accounts are not an official Department of State publication, and the views and information presented are the Grantee’s and do not represent the Fulbright Program, ECA, the Post, Fulbright Commission, or the host country’s government or institutions. Minnesotan families added extra layers of snow pants and hats to their children’s Halloween costumes this year. It snowed once again – a haunting reminder of the 1999 Halloween blizzard. College kids and twenty-somethings dressed in fishnet stockings, sparkling eyeshadow, and comfortable walking shoes went bar-hopping on the bordering weekends. They nursed the next-day hangovers with Jack Skelington, Coraline, and the Hocus Pocus witches on living-room couches. Halloween was a silly, sugar-crazed, and sometimes scary day of togetherness.
Meanwhile, Mom and Dad prepared jack-o-lanterns and set goofy decorations on our front porch. The corny fortune-teller mirror surprised the jumpy neighborhood children with goofy predictions of chocolate in their near future. The disco-light ghost beckoned trick-or-treaters up our dark driveway. Dad rationed the Twix, M&Ms, Milky Way, Hershey’s, or Snickers candy Mom bought in a Target bag bundle. Two pieces for each of the 30 trick-or-treaters – a record high! Mom and Dad dressed up as referees for their friend’s Halloween party; they always coordinated costumes. Halloween is an excuse to gather, play dress-up, and indulge in handfuls of your favorite childhood sweets. If I were home, I would sneak a package of M&Ms and a Hershey’s bar from our trick-or-treat bowl when Dad wasn’t watching. Spooky season foreshadows the end of fall and the beginning of the holiday season. (Don’t worry, I haven’t started listening to Christmas music yet.) By the end of October, the trees are bare of their fluorescent-colored leaves. Traditions pull people out of the glum gutter. Decorations and costumes transform an otherwise dull seasonal transition into a liberating evening of self-expression and screams. Yes, Halloween is consumerist, but it is also comforting. That’s why I chose to celebrate it even in Uruguay.
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This blog, this post, and all related accounts are not an official Department of State publication, and the views and information presented are the Grantee’s and do not represent the Fulbright Program, ECA, the Post, Fulbright Commission, or the host country’s government or institutions. Paul McCartney and I stood feet away under the cover of stars and stage lights. A chain of implausible coincidences led me to the second row of his sold-out show in Montevideo on October 1st. There was no time, however, to question this fantastical reality. So, I lived the serendipitous story as it was written. Now, a month later, I can finally tell it.
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This blog, this post, and all related accounts are not an official Department of State publication, and the views and information presented are the Grantee’s and do not represent the Fulbright Program, ECA, the Post, Fulbright Commission, or the host country’s government or institutions. I observe the rolling green countryside on a cross-country road trip to Fray Bentos: a small city on the western border near the Uruguay River. I notice the pumpkin-orange curtains hanging from the COT bus windows. The shadows that play in their folds become a Jack-o-lantern face. I see two large squares above a curved mouth when the steady October sun penetrates the cinched fabric. The face disappears all too soon with the shifting wind and road. Spring is in full swing.
I queue Taylor Swift’s Red, a quintessential autumnal album, as the bus passes manicured fields of dandelion yellow. The landscape reminds me of the sweet-corn yellow pastures back home. Memories of corn mazes, corn on the cob dripping with spray butter and pepper, and Dad spraying our dandelion-littered front lawn with weed killer every time he mowed the grass. I write metaphorical bridges between the unfamiliar and nostalgia. However, I cannot build bridges for every unfamiliar thing I encounter. Novelty is beautifully incomparable by nature. And my visit to Fray Bentos was one-of-a-kind. |
AuthorMeghan Hesterman (she/her) is an aspiring educator, storyteller, and traveler. Through regular posts and commentary, she candidly reflects on her evolution as an educator and young adult. Categories
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