But if it was....
On Friday at 9pm, when I finished my first full week of teaching a split schedule of English classes, a chorus would have broken out in the teachers' lounge, a rousing verse of:
Congratulations Maddy, this week felt like a year,
Your students know some English, so sip a foamy beer!
Clapping and cheering would have ensued, and maybe even a circle of foot stomping while different teachers took turns freestyling in the middle. We would have sang about modals, past perfect tense, and the rules of Flip Cup, which we played at a bar together later in the night. It was pouring rain out, and instead of dashing through it with our bags and sweaters over our heads, we would have kicked the puddles and spun yellow umbrellas, and we wouldn't have been cold, because rain in musicals is adequately warmed to maximize dancing and general merriment.
If my Peruvian life were a musical…
When we were getting kicked out of our apartment and moving on Saturday, my roommates Laura and Stephanie and I would’ve packed and hauled out backpacks and garbage bags full of clothes to a low, repeated chant of “moving suuuuuuucks." We would have looked longingly around our apartment and airy kitchen that we loved and only lived in for a short six weeks thanks to an old, grouchy Peruvian landlord named Graciela who was forcing us out.
Then, as we left our casa linda with our last load of belongings, we would’ve knitted our brows, thrown up a few middle fingers, and started an obnoxiously loud chorus to the tune of Cee-Lo Green’s “Fuck You”:
I see you walking San Blas with a frown and a scowl
And I’m like, fuck you!
You clearly gotta lotta baggage and think gringas are foul
But I’m like, FUCK YOU!
Yknow, we get the picture
You’re ageist and bitter
(now aint that some shit, aint that some shit!)
We think eviction is messed
so we won’t wish you the best,
we’ll just say.. FUCK YOU! (ooh ooh ooh!)
…if only my life in Peru was a musical.
Congratulations Maddy, this week felt like a year,
Your students know some English, so sip a foamy beer!
Clapping and cheering would have ensued, and maybe even a circle of foot stomping while different teachers took turns freestyling in the middle. We would have sang about modals, past perfect tense, and the rules of Flip Cup, which we played at a bar together later in the night. It was pouring rain out, and instead of dashing through it with our bags and sweaters over our heads, we would have kicked the puddles and spun yellow umbrellas, and we wouldn't have been cold, because rain in musicals is adequately warmed to maximize dancing and general merriment.
If my Peruvian life were a musical…
When we were getting kicked out of our apartment and moving on Saturday, my roommates Laura and Stephanie and I would’ve packed and hauled out backpacks and garbage bags full of clothes to a low, repeated chant of “moving suuuuuuucks." We would have looked longingly around our apartment and airy kitchen that we loved and only lived in for a short six weeks thanks to an old, grouchy Peruvian landlord named Graciela who was forcing us out.
Then, as we left our casa linda with our last load of belongings, we would’ve knitted our brows, thrown up a few middle fingers, and started an obnoxiously loud chorus to the tune of Cee-Lo Green’s “Fuck You”:
I see you walking San Blas with a frown and a scowl
And I’m like, fuck you!
You clearly gotta lotta baggage and think gringas are foul
But I’m like, FUCK YOU!
Yknow, we get the picture
You’re ageist and bitter
(now aint that some shit, aint that some shit!)
We think eviction is messed
so we won’t wish you the best,
we’ll just say.. FUCK YOU! (ooh ooh ooh!)
…if only my life in Peru was a musical.