There are some dates on the calendar that carry more than one meaning. March 20 has always been one of those days for me—marking a change in seasons and a moment to pause and remember someone who meant so much in my life.

Sunday brunch is a fairly universal concept. Add a rooftop, Tex-Mex food, drag entertainment, and about 80 LGBTQ expats living in Uruguay, and it becomes something a little more memorable. Mikey and I decided it would be the perfect way to spend a Sunday afternoon.

In this week’s episode of As the Expats Turn: one spouse becomes a permanent resident, one joins a chorus without sheet music, and both attempt to open a bank account without being mistaken for money launderers.

Moving to a new country teaches you many things—some profound, some practical, and some completely unexpected. For us, one of the great mysteries turned out to be something surprisingly basic: how mail works. What followed has been a lesson in patience, humor, and redefining what “delivery system” really means.

Three months into life in Uruguay, I’ve learned a few things: patience is not optional, bureaucracy is an endurance sport, and Carnaval does not wait for you to read the fine print. Some things have gone smoothly, others have tested my sanity, but one thing is clear—we’re exactly where we’re supposed to be.

Some places are more than just houses—they quietly hold the seasons of your life. This story is about one of those places, and what it means to say goodbye to a home that carried us through love, loss, growth, and change.

Some Sundays are for rest; others are taking on the the urban obstacle course known as Feria de Tristán Narvaja. The challenge took us three hours and finding treasures such as cinnamon, physics textbooks, and door locks. Ready, set, go!

My days are not complete until I have an adventure and I learn something new about this country. This morning was no different. I learned about pharmaceuticals drugs, took a wrong turn at Albuquerque, and find peace on the beach. Once again, new memories were made.

The United States recognizes Martin Luther King, Jr. today, a man who dedicated his life to dismantling injustice. His legacy stands in direct opposition to the political reality we now face. Honoring King while undoing his work is not remembrance—it’s hypocrisy.

Montevideo is revealing itself to me one bike ride at a time. This piece is less about mileage and more about noticing—parks, coastline, and the quiet observations that happen when you slow down just enough to pay attention. Also, it includes cold ocean water and at least one questionable political thought, so consider yourself warned.

They walked through the gates seeking a better of way of life. Some were required to change their names so they did not sound foreign. They did so they may carve a new chapter in their family history. While we will never be one of the 12 million who passed through Ellis Island, we passed through our own version today!

According to the christian bible, twelve days after the birth of Jesus, the three kings/wisemen appeared and gave gifts to the baby. Their appearance is known as the Epiphany. For the 2026 Epiphany, I gave Mikey a boot for his two broken bones.

Bah humbug—but make it international. This is not a heartwarming holiday post; it’s a behind-the-scenes look at what happens when relocation, Christmas, and depression all RSVP to the same party. Consider this your warning: humor is present, but it’s wearing black and muttering under its breath.

Assimilation sneaks up on you. One minute you’re wrapped in a blue hospital blanket with a lifetime of cultural expectations attached, and the next you’re wondering why Christmas feels wrong when it’s 80 degrees outside. This is a story about what happens when those assumptions get shaken—like a snow globe that never quite settles.

There’s a moment when routine collapses and chaos steps in without knocking. Last night found that moment parked across the street.

This entry contains rare content: optimism. Don’t worry — it’s still paired with mild disbelief and a shopping list longer than my patience.

Sometimes life hands you a moment so absurd you just have to share it. And sometimes that moment involves police, flashlights, and greyhounds doing their morning business. Buckle up — this is one of those stories.

I thought dinner was going to be the highlight of the evening. Then the drums started, the dancers appeared, and suddenly we were in a cultural festival disguised as a rehearsal. Uruguay does not believe in half-measures.

Brace yourself: this entry is informational, and I know that’s about as fun as eating steamed vegetables. But unlike every presenter who says “we’ll get to that later” and then never does — I actually intend to get to it. Welcome to How The Sausage Is Made - Renters Addition.

We thought Airbnb #3 would be our cozy temporary home. Instead, we walked into something that can best be described as “slasher film Airbnb edition.” Buckle up, this one’s a ride.