My last day in Argentina. Wow. Did I really just say that? My last day in Argentina. It feels like just yesterday I was faced with the challenge of being away from my family for over 3 weeks. 24 days loomed ahead of me like an unknown abyss, and a large part of me was unsure of whether or not I would be able to successfully cross it.

This trip has taught me so many things. Things about Spanish and teaching, yes. But also so much more about myself, my priorities and values, people, culture, and all the little things that make each day sparkle and shine with meaning.

I have learned that I never, ever could have completed this journey without the presence and assistance of several others. Those who I have come to see as my Argentine Family were a large part of the ‘make or break’ of my trip. These people include instructors, programs coordinators, peers, and home stay members. I tend to remain very close to my own family under normal circumstances. When I am not with them, I can be a bit of a loner, enjoying quiet time alone over constant socialization. As a result, I often will separate myself from others when in situations such as this.

But it was through the kindness, warm reception, open hearts, empathy, concern, and solidarity with all of the above people that I navigated this journey so successfully. People who took the time to get to know a little bit about me, and then used that information to constantly check in and converse each day. People who shared their own stories and foraged bonds through shared experiences and commonalities. With my program being such a short (relatively speaking) 3 week curriculum, a part of me envisioned getting plowed through a program, just another of so many students who come to Argentina to experience something new and different. Instead, my life intertwined with those of others on this opposite hemisphere. As opposed to just visiting, I truly lived in Argentina.

I do believe the greatest lesson I will be walking away with is the importance and value of opening your mind to new and different cultural experiences. It is so very easy, after a lifetime of living and determining through personal experiences, to have set definitions of what is ‘normal’ and ‘acceptable’. One can truly believe they understand the world and not realize that they have merely been looking through only one of thousands of different lenses. When those lenses are taken away, that which you thought you knew can all of a sudden become meaningless.

For instance, there has been a part of me that has continued to feel shocked at how ‘rude’ Argentines appear to often speak to one another. When giving directions, asking someone to get or do something, or giving instructions, there is never a ‘please’, ‘thank you’, or questioning intonation to their voices. They speak in what first appeared to me as orders and demands of one another.

But instead of just jumping to the conclusion that Argentines are simply rude, I continued to listen and learn. I made note of the fact that, despite the apparent abrasive discourse I witnessed, those being spoken to never appeared to take offense. There was never any sense of insult in reactions and replies.

It was though a conversation with my Spanish instructor, Karina, that this discourse was clarified for me. As she was teaching imperatives one day not long ago she said to me “it probably sounds to you like people here are always being rude to one another”. Yes! Yes, yes, yes! I listened intently as she described the standard use of the imperative form here in Argentina. She then gave me the perspective of another culture as she explained how silly it seems to them when they hear Americans voicing desires, directions, and instructions in the form of questions (would you shut the window?). We went on to discuss our value of polite words (would you please hand me that pencil?), and how they are simply not necessary to convey the same intentions here.

It was though this conversation that I realized how very easy it would be to simply write other cultures off with generalized and negative connotations. And just how very often people do just that. How many times do you hear people state things voiced in frames such as “oh those_______________ Argentines/Mexicans/Americans/French/British”? I have learned the importance of taking new cultures in perspective, and realized the impossibility of judging their characteristics through the lenses of my own culture. Because my cultural experience, regardless of how much it may appear to be, is not the ‘right’ one. It is simply the only one I have ever been brought up in. And there is a lot of meaningless, wasted, and avoidable hatred that tends to build walls between people who could otherwise have great experiences with one another, simply based on cultural misunderstandings and a rush to judge and categorize.

For me, this has been experienced most directly in my contact with Argentine pedestrians and drivers. The pedestrian has absolutely no rights here. Traffic signs are merely a suggestion, and crosswalks hold no meaning. When I first arrived, I admit I would chant as I walked along the street “these drivers are crazy. These drivers are crazy”. And my chantings were very passionate and full of intonation. Despite the fact that they existed only in my head, I would draw out the “crazy”, elongating the vowel sound into 3 or more syllables and placing considerable accent on the final “y”. It became, as I saw it, a mantra of survival and comprehension.

But as my days passed, I began to observe how others reacted around me. When a group of us stepped off the curb at a walk signal and nearly got plowed down by a taxi driver making an illegal turn with no signal, I was the only person who appeared to want to scream obscenities at his receding bumper. The others, all the others, would merely step back and then proceed to cross in his wake. There was no insult or anger. The people here moved in a seemingly organic flow with one another, and I was the odd one out.

And so I went with it. Although I became fond of using human body shields when entering any street. That’s right, I said it. Human body shields. Because so many people walk here in Rosario, you are seldom ever crossing a street alone. So rather than risk having my toes clipped by a one ton vehicle, I got into the habit of placing myself smack dab in the middle of crossing groups. Follow the person in front of me, and ensure that I had padding on either side. Because whatever it was they were understanding about the natural flow at these intersections, I wasn’t getting it. And I was scared.

But then came The Day. I don’t know if it was a result of my weeks of experience, nurturing relationships, impatience, or simply a reckless and fantastic mood. But about one week ago, at a busy intersection, I saw an opening and stepped off the curb. And I was the first one! The group of pedestrians followed behind me, their leader in this navigation of unstructured and fast paced intermingling. I valiantly led my people to safety, taking pride in the 3 speeding cars who halted for our crossing.

Now, my smugness didn’t last too long. My life was nearly cut short two intersections later, which brought me back down to earth and leveled my sense of capability. But the seal had been broken on my capacity for navigating Argentine traffic intersections. I am not always the first one off the curb, and I admit to using human shields now and then at the scariest of intersections, but I am most definitely a part of that organic flow. I no longer feel like the rock in a naturally flowing river, causing ripples and white water. I am a part of the flow, and with that comes great release. I no longer have to grasp tightly to my judgements, which only serve to tire me out as my hold is battered by the flow of Argentine culture. I am floating along a peaceful current, and it is a beautiful ride.

And so I reflect upon the loss so many may have when their experience stops at “those crazy Argentine drivers”. Those who never see beyond their own cultural experiences and sense of normalcy. Because they never get to stop being the rock. And the rock is a very hard, tiring, and stressful place to be when a river flows as beautifully as it tends to. And as we all know, the true beauty and power of any river is found within its natural current.