That’s Fino on the left, Raj on the right. They’re all that remains of the small herd that’s resided at Tierreich Farm in Durham, NC–a.k.a., the place where I was born & raised–for the last 60+ years.
In fact, “they” aren’t even “they” any more. Since I took that photo last month, Fino passed away, at 28. That’s a good age for a horse. Amazingly, surviving Brown Boy Raj is still kickin’ at AGE 37.
Who would’ve guessed such a nondescript, scrawny little guy could endure into what are usually known as Donkey’s Years?
Especially since Stevie, World’s Cutest Ass, passed away last fall–at 37!
My point is, you DON’T expect superlatives from scrawny little horses. Nor from Durham, North Carolina. It’s a humble kind of place. This was especially noticeable after flying there directly from our sojourn amidst the bright blue waterfalls of La Huasteca, in Mexico.
The Mate and I go back to visit our old lives (the place where we met in 1977 and fell in love a couple of years later) every March. To see my Amazing Mom…
almost 90!
…my equally Amazing Dad…
…seen here doing his 3 laps with his walker & The Mate. Dad’s almost 95.
NC-style BBQ, hushpuppies, slaw, greens, okra…you get the picture!
Oh, and since the semi-finals (which Carolina made it to before falling to That Team That Shall Not Be Named Duke) were on Pi Day…
Happy 3/14, and Go Heels!
But I realize I haven’t explained about the Grey Girls. Here they are, resting up with Dad after his walk.
That’s Bela on the left, Senta on the right. Norwegian Elkhounds, with a German-American.
During our 9 days in NC, The Mate and I helped romp the Grey Girls, patted the Brown Boys, cheered for the Heels, and hung out with my folks, eating (humble) pie.
Including this: what you get when you use purple potatoes for a Shepherd’s Pie!
Note: those potholders, above, came from La Huasteca. Using them in my mom’s kitchen felt surreal, like…”Where we really just there?”
Aquí
Granted, the NC woods are not THAT, especially before spring takes hold. But they hold a special, humble grip on my heart.
and on my…nostrils?
I’m undyingly grateful for our viaje Mexicano. But even more so to be able to come “home,” year after year, to this.
Somebody say spring?
Extra note: you may have noticed many of these photos are weirdly small. WordPress suddenly started doing this, and none of the articles I’ve read to fix it have helped. If you understand WordPress and think you can help me keep my photos large, please email me at gretchen.wing@gmail.com.
As I described last entry, we survived 40 degrees Celcius–that’s 102 for us!–in Jalpan by hiding out in its clear blue oases. But there weren’t enough of these within a reasonable drive (on unreasonable roads).
So we decided to spend out last 2 days (1 night) where we started, in Tamasopo.
Aquí
We had a couple of adventures getting back there–one on purpose, one not. The purposeful one was a visit to a tree Hijo Dos had found mention of online: a 1,000 year-old cypress, in a small town right off the main highway.
1,000 year old tree? Sí, por favor.
We were not disappointed.
If this thing looks big, please know the picture doesn’t come close to showing how MASSIVE this ancient goddess is. And since cypresses are deciduous, we got to enjoy the sight of this building-sized tree sporting tiny, fresh baby leaves. Circle of life!
El Arbol Milennario’s secret, I think, is this spring, right at its base. This part was fenced off (luckily), but I was able to sit in the clear water just downstream.
Adventure #2 was Google’s fault. Well, maybe it was ours…for taking the route as Google directed, even though the road appeared not to have a name. It started nice and paved, but when it abruptly turned to rutted dirt, it was too late to turn around.
At a maximum of 15 mph, I had plenty of opportunity to take cactus photos out the window.
Luckily we got through 45 minutes of potholes without damage to the car, and after regaining pavement, we were back in Tamasopo in no time, and back in that incredible river.
Miss you already
Early next morning, Hijo Dos y yo paid one last visit to the Puente de Diós we’d first met the week before. But there was a guide nearby, so no illegal swimming this time…plus it was a little chilly anyway.
Miss you too
Next morning, on our way back to the city of San Luis Potosí (as opposed to the state of the same name…it’s not that confusing; just thing New York, New York), we stopped at one more aquatic wonderland still on our list: El Trampolín. I’m still baffled why it’s called this, but…
…honestly, who cares? This photo is now my computer’s wallpaper.
A lazy part of the same blue river that starts at the Puente de Dios, El Trampolín has the added feature of being PUBLIC. No entrance fee, no guides, no nothing…just hop on in and float!
And look up at the Spanish moss while doing so.
The only disadvantage to the public part of this gorgeous oasis was…garbage. Not a ton, but enough to be noticeable. And disappointing. Sometimes people suck.
Back in the city of San Luis (or the outskirts; after all our beautiful blue-green experiences, we weren’t in the mood for touring a hot city), we took ourselves out to dinner at a place close by our airport hotel. Hijo Dos picked it out. “It’s famous for grilled meat,” he said.
If you’re thinking, “Wait–is The Mate eating a cheeseburger??” you are not wrong. What a gringo! (But he said it was one of the best cheeseburgers he ever had. The he helped me and Hijo Dos eat the big meatpile)
Next day we were up EARLY, flying back to Dallas. (My seatmates were two lovely women going on their own, Northern adventure; I had the pleasure of apologizing to them for my current wretched government.) In Dallas we said Adios to Hijo Dos, who flew back to Seattle, while we flew on to…
…guess where?
Here’s a hint.
But before this travel blog switches gears, can I just say this about the part of Mexico we saw? The people were LOVELY. The food was DELICIOUS. We felt SAFE. And we still feel humbled to have spent such happy time in a region that no one in the U.S. seems to have heard of.So…thank you, Aussie bloggers, for steering us there!
Next week: back down on the farm with the fam. Thanks for traveling with me!
Leaving the blue waters of La Huasteca Potosina would have been hard, except that we were looking forward to new wonders. Starting with the town of Xilitla, which is famous for the Surrealist Gardens built by an eccentric Englishman almost a century ago.
Eccentric enough for ya?
Since we don’t enjoy standing in line, we decided to view the Gardens from the outside, which was still pretty cool.
Very M.C. Escher. But you aren’t allowed to walk in it, so…I’m not sure we missed much.
Instead, we spent a happy hour meandering through the main town of Xilitla (pronounced Hee-leet-la), which was as colorful as Aquismon, with an even prettier hilltop aspect.
It was a market day–even more colorful!
I found myself wishing I’d brought a bigger suitcase.
That sandy-looking pile on the left is brown sugar, ground from that dark cone in the middle. Mmmm!
Since there were no hikes in Xilitla, we hadn’t made reservations there. So we pushed on, crossing over into the state of Queretaro. To my dismay, while the mountains grew taller, they also grew drier.
And browner. Oh dear.
The main town, Jalpan, looked pretty enough, but…where’s all the green I expected?
Anybody see any waterfalls?
This new landscape worried me, given the weather forecast. It was supposed to be in the 90s our first day, followed by 102. That’s too hot for hiking! And too hot for anything else. I began to wonder if I’d made a mistake, bringing us here.
Our only neighbors: hummingbirds, doves, and a group of camping high schoolers.
And walking into town that night, we were equally cheered by Jalpan itself: another well-named Pueblo Mágico.
town plaza
Jalpan went all-out for their “Magic Town” designation, seemed like. Not only was the plaza decorated…
Ay, que precioso
…but each side alley had its own colorful theme.
Why can’t we do this at home?
Oh, and the church wasn’t bad either:
The front is intricately carved. I really should’ve taken close-ups. But you get the idea.
So Jalpan itself stole our hearts. Still, I worried: are we really going hiking in 98 degrees? Turns out, I wasted a good worry. La Sierra Gorda is all about hidden mountain oases.
Ahhhhhh…
Our first hike, along this creek, featured all the blue water we’d been missing. And big ol’ sycamore trees…
And yes! a waterfall.
Let me zoom in a sec on that fan of rock…which, understand, is CREATED by the water itself–a fan-shaped stalactite.
I’m a fan of stalactites, myself!
One wasn’t allowed to swim in this pool, as it’s a habitat for highly endangered axolotls. (Which we didn’t find.) But at the end of the hike…
¡¡¡SÍ!!!
Oh–and another reward: highly cute piggies at the trail entrance.
Even cuter in the video.
Buoyed by our first oasis experience, we ventured out on Day 2…the 102-degree day…with high hopes for lower temps in another cool oasis: El Puente de Diós (Sierra Gorda version, not to be confused with the one in Tamasopo). This hike is famous and sensitive enough that we were required to hire a local guide. And this time, we were also rewarded beyond our wildest expectations.
The hike started similarly to the day before: clear stream, big trees.
Hola, Madre
But soon enough the canyon narrowed.
Keep an eye on that fluted-looking rock, above.
And narrowed further.
Notice that some of those stalactite fans have broken off.
We didn’t realize it at the time, but those rocky fans on either side of the canyon are growing closer to each other with each drop of water than pours down.
Closer…and closer…
Soon we would see just how close those rocky sides could grow. But first…fun with rock faces!
I see a baboon. What do you see?
Soon after this stretch, the canyon opened back up…
…and we started hearing a waterfall roar.
But not just any waterfall. This Bridge of God was…
…awe-striking.
Can you see what happened here? The two sides of the canyon “grew” together, millennium by millennium, drop by mineral-laden drop, to connect into this bridge.
But the most incredible view was from underneath. Here’s looking THROUGH the bridge…
Oh, did those drips feel good!
…but here is looking UP…into the bridge’s belly.
Or whatever body parts you want to call these.
Imagine a roar too loud for conversation.
Hijo Dos noticing that some of God’s pipes seem to be blocked. (You okay, Madre?)
Our guide assured us the water was safe to drink; we took him at his word.
How could you NOT?
No need to swim at God’s Bridge; we were fully cooled by our own awe, all the way back down the trail. Oh, and our guide pointed out this tree, which he said was 800 years old.
Again: we saw no reason not to believe him. Gracias, Ricardo.
On the drive back to Jalpan, as coda to a perfect day, we stopped at the tiniest little lunch spot off the road, run by the tiniest little woman, Doña Mary.
Her kitchen was about the size of this table.
No menus; our host simply narrated what she’d cooked that day. Something she mentioned sounded to me like “little mushrooms” (honguitos), so I asked Hijo Dos to inquire. Turns out she served something called Huitlacoche, which Google told us later is “a fungus that grows on corn kernels, forming a blue-gray, tumor-like growth,” which is considered a delicacy.
It looked as disgusting as it tasted delicious.
You had me at blue-gray. Gracias, Doña Mary.
Approaching Jalpan, we watched the temp guage in our rental car climb and climb. I’d never seen 40 degrees Centigrade before! Let’s hear it for oases.
Next day, we decided to say goodbye to La Sierra Gorda. Most of it, we found, is inaccessible–a wonderful, thriving natural habitat, but not offering many more hikes than those we’d enjoyed. Not wishing to drive long distances on some INCREDIBLY twisty roads, we opted to spend our next night back in Tamasopo.
We ate brunch before leaving Jalpan next morning, where I tried one more ingredient new to me: prickly-pear fruit (in a burrito), which they call tuna or tunita.
Fresh, pretty…tastes a bit like okra, without the sliminess!
I just gotta say, Jalpan–you grew on us, big time.
“Oh, alright…I’ll get back in the car…”
Next up: last days in the blue waters, and giant Meatpile! Thanks for keeping me company.
I’ll be honest: I’d never heard of a Pueblo Mágico. Apparently it’s a special designation conferred in Mexico by the government–though state or federal, we never learned.
All I can say is: Aquismón fits the bill of Magical Town.
You could quibble with the colorlessness of their sign…but the rest of the place made up for that.
Word of warning. You know those really talky blog posts I sometimes do? This one isn’t that. I have pics to share!
Like this one, showing how picturesquely steep the village streets are.
Our first day there, all I really did was walk around and revel in the beauties of the place.
If my neighbor HERE painted their house like this, I’d hate it. But here? Fits right in.Ditto. And you gotta love that hillside behind.
Not only the houses, but the yards themselves spoke of people who loved color and design.
Yes, that is a “bush” made of deep blue glass bottles! (Ukrainians would love this backyard.)
Oh, and the gardens???
Nothin’ much…just your average 4-colored bouganvillea vines…
Carved out of the base of the jungly cliffs of the region, the village still hosted what looked like some magnificent old growth.
Hola, Guapo Viejo.
We stayed one night in one teensy little hotel, directly above an alley bustling with vendors…
…and two more in another small place, even more modest, with a very sweet courtyard. Pretty sure we were the only guests in both.
Again with the color!
The tree shading El Esposo in this picture was bursting with blossoms. Hijo Dos assured me that, yes–that’s a mango tree, meaning that these…
…are actually the TEENSIEST baby mangoes ever!
You could tell that the citizens of Aquismon had a lot of pride in their village. I saw zero trash, and this sign on a public wall explained why:
“If you have culture and pride, don’t litter”
We made two excursions from Aquismon. The first involved getting up before daybreak, and driving up, up, up a twisty road into the mountains behind town…in order to walk down, down, down 600 steps to a giant hole in the ground.
This.
Not just any hole, though. This is El Sotano de Los Golondrinas, literally, Cellar of the Swallows.
Photo courtesy of Hijo Dos, who got himself roped up to peer into the depths from the edge. Eek.
Gazillion birds spend the night there, and at daybreak, come swirling out again. If you’re lucky. Sometimes, if it’s cloudy, they decide to sleep in, and you’re left just staring at their giant hole. Which is, admittedly, pretty cool: 1600 feet deep (512 m); the deepest cave shaft in the world, and the second-largest cave in Mexico.
Fellow tourists waiting to photograph the birds. Not a very comfy seat, that limestone.
We were semi-lucky: enough birds swirled out for us to be able to ooh and ahh and call it a swirl (though not exactly sky-blackening).
And now…back up those 600 steps!
Next day’s excursion was a little further afield: Cascada Tamul, the highest waterfall in the region. We learned we could either hike to it–with instructions that sounded a bit iffy for folks like us with rental cars and bad knees–or rent a spot in a lancha and paddle up toward it.
We chose the lancha, with a half-dozen fellow tourists, from Mexico City.
The trip wasn’t far, maybe 30 minutes of paddling, but it started spectacular and stayed that way.
We all got out and walked around as our boat captain hauled the boat over the only rapids on this stretch.
When we got to the actual falls themselves, so many other boats were there, full of people taking photos, it was actually an anticlimax.
A very pretty one–don’t get me wrong. And imagine what it looks like at high water season!
Truly, though, I was more captivated by the journey than the destination. Especially the fluted limestone…
…which I couldn’t stop taking photos of. Even though I was supposed to be paddling.
Such shapes! Such colors! OK, you get the idea.
But probably THE COOLEST part of the excursion was the Cueva de Agua (Water Cave) we stopped at on the way back downstream. Our captain pulled the boat over to let us all troop up some rough steps, then even more steps, up the bank…
This isn’t the river. Where’s all this water coming from??
…to this. Exactly as advertised: it’s a cave full of water sprung straight up from the earth. And warm.
Just don’t think about any of those giant stalactites dropping on your head.
I wish, oh how I wish, we could’ve seen it without anyone else there, as we did the Puente de Dios at Tamasopo. But being part of a group, we didn’t have a choice. Luckily folks were nice, and gave each other plenty of space in there.
Afterwards, waiting for everyone to have their swim, we enjoyed sitting in the cascading creek from that magical cave.
I am LITERALLY sitting in this waterfall pool to take this photo of Hijo 2.
This photo of that creek pouring into the river captures the whole experience better than I can describe.
But, lest you can’t quite believe what that photo is showing, here’s the same waterfall, looking up from the river.
(with El Esposo’s hat in the lower corner)
And one more:
(I did warn you about the pics)
Back in Aquismon, I walked around some more, soaking up that cute little town. I even found a few ugly things, like these drying intestines at a carniceria (butcher’s):
…but for intestines, they’re still pretty cool-looking.
But the sunset from our hotel balcony was right on brand.
Buenas noches…
Next up: Jalpan (another Magic Town) and La Sierra Gorda. Thanks for traveling with me!
Let’s take a break from waterfalls for just a sec.
That’s what El Esposo, Hijo Dos, y yo did on our fourth day in La Huasteca Potosina. Because sometimes you just need to stare a jaguar in the face.
Or a tamandua: an anteater–with the coat of a skunk, the charm of a sloth, and the agility of a monkey
After reading about Selva Teenek Ecopark in the blog I consulted for our itinerary, Sallysees.com, I immediately booked us a night there. Turns out Sally knows her way around wildlife rehab facilities endowed with gracious hospitality, as well as she knows waterfalls.
The whole place was built in traditional-looking Huastec (or Teenek) style
As soon as we arrived, our host (and co-owner) Eduardo met us in a structure like this to go over expectations–stuff like no wandering off trail; nighttime feeding of the carnivores happens at 8:30 pm; oh, and coffee or tea for breakfast? We learned we were the only tourists staying there at the moment (ooh, a private tour!), but that there was a large contingent of conservation biologists on site for classes. Turns out Selva Teenek (pronounced Teneck, meaning Jungle of the Huastec people) is no cheesy “come pet a creature” place, but a beacon of true wildlife rehab and conservation.
They just happen to be very good at taking care of people there too.
Before the special nighttime tour, we were given one in daylight, featuring some VERY cute rescued margays.
Basically a teeeeeensy little leopard! (Fun fact: my aunt once kept a pet one. Don’t tell.)
The focus on the Teenek/Huastec people was as striking as the animals. This mural in the open-air dining area, for example, which cracked me up because…
…can you see it? My Mate’s legs almost look like they go with the girl on the wall! (who looks like she’s spray-painting my head)
But no lie–we were there for the animals, especially the two big cats on the nighttime feeding tour. The puma (who’d been raised as a pet till that idea went sideways) greeted her keeper by walking back and forth, tail high, purring like…well, like a big cat. I didn’t bother with a picture because, honestly, it was the purring part that was really striking.
But the jaguar? That girl was NOT tame. She appeared out of the darkness, into the keeper’s red light…and CROUCHED. I’d never felt like prey before, but those huge eyes glaring from a few feet away…they made me very grateful for that fence.
What’s really missing from this photo: the CRUNCHING sound as she chomps bones
We did, in fact, visit a nearby waterfall on our way in, Cascada Micos. I couldn’t take a very close-up photo because we had to SWIM to this one.
Believe me, those falls are farther away than they look! Hijo 2 & yo swam to that little island which, yes, somebody had actually decorated with a heart for Valentines Day (sigh)
I don’t know if anyone reading this will ever actually get to La Huasteca Potosina, a region toured mostly by folks from Mexico City. But if you do…definitely spend the night here! And tell Eduardo (and his jaguar) we said Hola.
Next post: More blue water…and caves! And caves full of blue water!
Sometime this winter The Mate allowed that he wouldn’t mind a little break from splitting firewood and running our wood stove. So, with our family obligations cleared, our thoughts turned to Mexico, where lately it seems a good half of our (retired) acquaintance has been sojourning in the cold months.
Can’t imagine why.
When it came to Mexico, we quickly found out our knowledge fell into two categories . 1. Things we don’t know about Mexico: almost everything 2. Things we do know about Mexico: any place where we are likely to meet lots of fellow Americans is a place we don’t want to visit right now.
With that in mind, I bought a Lonely Planet book and started checking out regions. That’s when La Huasteca Potosina and the Sierra Gorda caught my eye and held it. I started doing some reading, and stumbled onto the most helpful travel blog I’ve encountered, written by an intrepid pair of Australians. Sallysees.com helped me create my own itinerary, and I strongly recommend their blog for many areas of Mexico and some other places they’ve traveled.
Wherever THIS is? I want to go there.
Following Sally’s advice, I planned to rent a car in the city of San Luis Potosi and drive a big circle. My Spanish has been improving, and I was looking forward to testing it.
Or I thought I was. But when Hijo Dos (Son Two), who’s fully fluent, offered to accompany us, I think I was relieved as my Mate in saying ¡Sí, por favor! So we all flew together from Seattle.
Luckily we all like each other.
Our plane got in late so we spent the night in a hotel near the airport, but next day we drove about three hours through increasingly impressive desert…
How do you say Joshua Tree in Spanish?
…to La Huasteca, a region named for the Huastec people, a place of lush, jungly green oases with magical blue rivers and waterfalls. Our first stay was the small town of Tamasopo.
Apparently these cute town name signs are a big thing now, and not just in Mexico. Instagram Effect?
The Rio Tamasopo ran right past our first accomodations–such a relief after hours of desert driving!
Lemme in there!Ay, sí….
The cypress trees there are as impressive as the water; in fact, they shape the water’s flow with their roots.
Another huge plus of our cabaña was its proximity to what could well be the top attraction of the whole area (except that it has so many competitors): el Puente de Diós (Bridge of God).
This
It’s less a bridge than it is a roaring waterfall which comes to rest in a magical, dark blue cenote—ringed by drapery of ferns and more tiny waterfalls—from which the river somehow disappears through the cliff and comes out the other side.
Those fan-shaped “rocks” are actually stalactites formed by the mineral-laden water over millennia.Bridge, no. Of God–yes.
Tourists can float through this underwater cavern with lifejackets on…
…watched over by a lifeguard in the world’s coolest natural lifeguard tower! (Note rope to help floaters exit)
My family never opted for the boisterous-seeming life-jacket-cave-float option, preferring to hang out in the sunny water just downstream…
…and (Hijo Dos y yo) to sneak back in next morning before the guides and tourists arrived.
Being there alone with only the roar of the falls, steaming in the chill air, was magical.
He swam; I took pictures. (In my defense, it was a pretty chilly morning!
Another nearby attraction, just a couple of miles by car, were the Cascadas de Tamasopo. Having been warned by Sally’s blog that these falls had been curated into a kind of waterpark, we saved them for the day we left Tamasopo.
Note the jumping platform on the left. Salvavidas (life jackets) required for that.
Because we got there early we were still able to fully enjoy the natural beauty of the water without being too distracted by The surrounding eateries and lounge chairs.
This will definitely do!
Not exactly wilderness, but very well protected
Three days into our trip, we had yet to meet a single non-Mexican tourist. ¡¡¡Sí!!!
Vamos a volver (we’ll be back)
Next stop: the Selva Teenek Wildlife Rehabilitation Ecopark. Let’s see some critters!
A funny thing happened to me on my way to the classroom the other day: I got bowled over by watching high school students LEARN Spanish.
So what, you say? Ah, but pay attention to that verb. Ask nearly any high school student in the U.S.–I don’t care if it’s P.S. 392 in New York City or Snobster Prep in Massachusetts–what their classes are, and they’ll say this: “I’m taking Spanish [or French, or Japanese, or whatever].” TAKING. Not LEARNING.
Translation: “I have to do this because it’s a college requirement.”
“I’ve only been taking it since 9th grade because that’s all our district funds.” (OK, maybe not at Snobster Prep.) (…this when ALL the research shows that the best years to learn languages are the early ones!)
“I don’t bother to speak with a proper accent, because when I do, the other kids call me a brownnoser.”
“As soon as I’ve fulfilled the requirements of my school/college/parents, I’ll stop ‘taking.’
So, you’re fluent in Spanish now? “Um, not exactly. We didn’t really speak Spanish, y’know. But we did take it.”
Can you tell this has been a bit of a sore spot with me? And I’m not even a World Languages teacher!
Her next period was free, so she took me to the room of the teacher next door. There I witnessed a minor miracle. I’m going to get all teachery here for a sec and focus on OBSERVABLE BEHAVIOR, as though I were an evaluator.
Every single student had his/her assignment in his/her hands without being prompted: a hand-drawn map of a typical Mexican town, showing names of buildings, i.e. Correo (P.O.) and Panaderia (bakery).
All students sat in a giant circle of chairs without desks. As soon as “el Profe” directed, each student turned to the one sitting adjacent and took turns conversing on the assigned topic: “Tell your partner the name of your town, and the size of its population.” “Tell your partner which building in your town is the most important, and why.”
From the moment the bell rang, I heard not a word of English.
Did I mention that this was a first-year Spanish class in a mid-sized public school with a free-and-reduced lunch student population of over 50%? And that this was not an Honors class? If you are not, like me, amazed not to have seen a single student try to worm his/her way out of this assignment, or drag his/her feet, or otherwise try to hijack the teacher’s attention onto anything but learning Spanish, well…let’s just say you haven’t been hanging around schools or teenagers as much as I have.
These kids were not only learning, they were having fun. They were proud of themselves. (I heard one kid, dressed in classic slacker mode, describe how in his town, “Robertlandia,” the most important building was the statue of himself in the center of the Plaza. But he said it all in Spanish!)
Turns out this miracle has a very real source: The Organic World Languages program, or OWL. Their website says, We believe in movement, 100% immersion and an emphasis on the importance of creating community in the classroom. This was very evident, as we all moved and switched partners twice during the 20 minutes I was there. (Of course El Profe didn’t let his visitors sit quietly on the sidelines–we got to participate! Turns out I can speak enough Spanish to converse with first-years, but only just.) So, we spoke. We laughed. And we learned.
If only I could go back to high school and start over!
Want to see what I mean? Here’s a short video from OWL that explains its history, emphasizes its effect on test scores, and shows its work in action:
So, I’d like to hear about your own experience with learning another language. Did you? Was it because of, or more despite, your school experience? (If you were raised bilingually, I’m totally jealous, but go ahead and brag.)
Wing's World 