Rosario, Argentina-Introductory Post

Posted on March 10, 2013 by pricemv

Hola Tod@s!

My name is Emmanuel Macías, a senior studying social science with a focus in sociology and Spanish minor. I am an east Oregonian native (Hermiston), first generation Latino, and the youngest out of my siblings. This spring term, I will be interning with VOX Asociación Civil in Rosario, Argentina!

There are many reasons why I chose this site. One of the most important reasons is because I want to have a professional work experience related to advocacy and social justice work within the LGBT community. As an openly gay Latino and advocate for LGBT, student, farmer workers, DREAMers, etc. rights, I knew this would be an opportunity of a life time. One of my sociology professors has worked with this non-governmental organization and was able connect me with folks in the organization. After doing my research of VOX and seeing how visible and active they are, I knew I had couldn’t let this slip away.

Another reason I chose Argentina is because I would like to strengthen my Spanish and learn more about the culture and history of the country. I am a native speaker (family is from México), however I am in need of sharpening up my spanish. Though I am able to communicate with folks, I truly want to build my confidence and be able to have critical and effective conversations with folks all in Spanish.

I have taken many courses throughout my time at Western and most have been focused on Latinoamérica. Whether it was about the Cuban revolution, Zapatistas in México, or the dictatorship regime in Argentina during the 1980s, expanding my knowledge on the history, culture, language, geography, etc. of Latinoamérica is important to me. While in Argentina, I hope to get a better sense of where people stand post the dictatorship and economic recessions they had faced. I want to get a glimpse of the natives in the Northern parts of the country. I want to see how the LGBT community differs from the U.S. and Arg. I want to learn how to dance Tango, try mate, asados, cafe con leche, etc.

I am going into this experience with open arms and hope to soak every thing in. This is a 10 week program and I hope to take full advantage of the opportunities and challenges that come my way. Upon return, I will be graduating and looking for a job, YAY! This internship will hopefully, more or less, give me a better understanding of what my life will look like within the near future.

I plan to blog as much as possible so look out for meh y’all!

Saludos,

Meño

Landing in America

Posted on September 21, 2012 by pricemv

Planes are interesting, because they often give you the opportunity to sit by a complete stranger that you will most likely never see again. Some people use this as a chance to become friends, like the two people behind me on the 10-hour flight from Buenos Aires to Huston, who talked loudly through the first 3 hours or so. I didn’t speak to the woman next to me very much at all, and we both fell asleep after the flight attendants had finished giving out dinner and drinks.

At this point, I had been travelling for the entire day, and I was ready to get home. But, hearing these strangers discuss things about Argentina, and their experiences, made me realize how similar we really are. I was listening to them talk about how they had eaten delicious pizza and stayed in hostels and had been amazed at the sprawling humanity of Buenos Aires, just as I had.

People. Everywhere.

After I got off the plane in Huston, relieved that I would once again have all of my usual comforts, I began to realize that since I was back in my comfort zone, back where everything made perfect sense to me, many of the people I recognized from the plane were now in a strange land. It made me realize how similar we really all are. The woman I sat by on the plane spoke mainly Spanish, and was a native Argentinian. In the crowded security line at the airport, she was completely out of her depth. Many people were in danger of missing their connecting flights, and the TSA agents were unflinchingly rigid, insisting that there was nothing they could do. I ended up speaking to several people who had been on my flight in Spanish, because they recognized someone who may potentially be able to help them navigate their way.

That part of the trip really struck me. For once, I naturally switched into Spanish, speaking with people I didn’t know, with no encouragement from anyone else. And the people were the same as people I would’ve spoken English too. Maybe it’s something I should have known all along, but I think without going and living with another culture, without actually travelling to where you are in the minority, you cannot recognize what we do to other cultures here. And you cannot recognize how similar we all are.

It’s always interesting to look at other people’s high school yearbooks, because sometimes you look through pictures and swear that someone you’ve never seen before looks exactly like this other person you know, and maybe it’s their facial expression or just some look in their eyes. So, that was the biggest thing that I took away from Argentina. This thought, this idea, that we are all truly similar. No matter where we grew up, or what language we speak. As humans, we are greater than any individual, we are alike in more ways than we could possibly ever be different.

And, Argentina is beautiful.

I am extremely grateful to everyone who made this trip possible, and I cannot wait to go abroad again, and continue to study Spanish and education! Anne

Return from Rosario!

Posted on September 21, 2012 by pricemv

After spending three weeks in Rosario, Argentina, I was finally feeling settled in my homestay, and classes, and in meeting new people, and using Spanish more often and with more confidence. So of course it was time to head home!

My lovely host mother, Noemi, and myself.

We finished up our final school projects, took our last few walks through the streets of Rosario, and had a fantastic last night as a group. I had planned to take Tienda Leon back to the Buenos Aires airport, and I was a little nervous because for the first time, I was travelling on my own. But it ended up working very smoothly, and I witnessed one of my favorite sights since being in Argentina: on Sundays, they close Blvd. Orono, which is one of the larger streets in Rosario, so that cars can’t drive down it and people can instead ride bikes, or skateboard, or rollerskate, or otherwise travel down the normally busy street. I saw many families taking advantage of this, and I thought it was such a good idea. It was encouraging people to spend time with their families, and people were actually taking advantage of it.

On the last Saturday I was in Argentina, we walked down to the waterfront, and it was one of the first really sunny days since we had arrived. We reached the waterfront, where we had been many times before, and for once it was filled with people! There were tons of families, and couples walking dogs, and we spent a fair amount of time just watching the people, and enjoying a day where we didn’t need to have several sweatshirts on to stay warm.

Here’s a classic candid photo of Cain and I by the river.

Also, the day before that picture was taken I had the greatest churro of my life. Of all the reasons to return to Argentina, that one is truly making me consider returning next summer. There are few things better than a warm churro full of dulce de leche, I promise you.

As I was beginning to truly reflect on my time abroad, I boarded Tienda Leon with a sense of relief, admittedly. I had never really left the country before (just a brief trip to Canada when I was 10) and I was relieved that the trip had gone so well, and that I had found it easy to become friends with the people on my trip, as well as the Argentinians we met while abroad. Anne

Miss you guys already!

A Return Home, But to Someplace Vastly Different

Posted on August 24, 2012 by pricemv

Some of it’s magic and some of it’s tragic, but I had a good life all the way.

-Jimmy Buffett

Adios Argentina! At the airport.

Home.

What a strange new connotation this word has taken on for me after being away for 24 days. The loss I felt while abroad was twofold, as I mourned the absence of both the familiar comforts of home as well as being away from my husband and children.

FAMILIARITY: In terms of familiar comforts, I quickly learned just how differently cultures can function in everyday, mundane things. These differences are often hidden, and can only be experienced to be understood. For instance, Argentineans have a very different perspective on personal space. This became apparent to me often when waiting in line or fighting my way through a crowded area. As someone who has been raised in a culture which has pretty clear standards about acceptable personal space, I was often confronted with misguided feelings of trespass on the parts of others. Returning to my comfort level in this was something I craved while away, and found immediate relief in upon my return.

View from an Argentine elevator =)

FAMILY: Missing my family was something I had done my best to prepare myself for, but could only truly understand and accept through experience. This loss often came at night, at the end of my insanely busy days. I missed the cuddles and the goodnight kisses. I became frustrated with the difficulties provided by a 4 hour time difference (when I was going to bed they were still out and about in their day, and I left for school when they were still sound asleep). I grasped the privilege that accompanies having your loved ones by your side each and every day, and relished the knowledge that this would be returned to me in short time.

New family…

…and New Friends

LANGUAGE: There was also the sense of helplessness that comes with being immersed in a language one is not fluent in. Exhausting at best, I often struggled with the fact that I did not have a command of the language that would allow me to argue my position, clarify events, or truly understand the many intricacies of different situations. If I felt I was overcharged in a store, I lacked the vocabulary and comprehension levels to defend my position with the clerk, and would usually just accept the price. When I didn’t understand happenings around me, I was thrilled to merely have the ability to translate the basics, never mind the details that might provide more meaning. And in most conversations between others (and sometimes even those that included me) I did my best to catch enough words to maintain a general understanding of the topic, with the full comprehension that I was missing a good portion of the dialogue.

“Do not let a day pass without doing something good for the world”

Coming home has taken those weights off my shoulders. Once again in my native language, I can understand dialogues without having to relentlessly concentrate, and I can argue any position I might be inclined to. I can understand the subtle intricacies of situations and discuss their often abstract meaning with others. I have been handed back the power, after placing myself in a position of powerlessness.

And what has all this taught me? Have I accomplished those goals I set for myself so many weeks ago? How will this experience continue to resound in my future?

Do not follow where the path may lead. Go instead where there is no path and leave a trail.

-Ralph Waldo Emerson

I do think one of the greatest lessons I have learned is how to place my trust in strangers. As U.S. citizens (not “Americans”, as we so often like to refer to ourselves, as though the term reflects only our own country and not the 34+ other American countries) we have a tendency to form tight social circles and seek assistance only from those closest to us. In Argentina, I was constantly forced to look to others around me for clarification and understanding. As scary as this was initially, I didn’t encounter a single rude reaction. Even when people were pulled away from their own routines and circumstances, each and every one was happy to help me in whatever way possible. And it wasn’t at all what I was expecting. I always braced myself for annoyance or frustration. I don’t know if my surprising outcomes stem more from the fact that I put myself out there more than I usually do, that Argentines are overall fabulously friendly people, or a little of both. But in the end, it doesn’t really matter. From my perspective, and at the risk of sounding hokey, my faith in humanity was restored just a bit through this trip.

Traveling is a brutality. It forces you to trust strangers and to lose sight of all that familiar comfort of home and friends. You are constantly off balance. Nothing is yours except the essential things- air, sleep, dreams, the sea, the sky- all things leading toward the eternal or what we imagine of it.

-Cesare Pavese

One of the major goals I set for myself was to speak only Spanish while abroad. I didn’t accomplish that, but it is not with regret. I spoke more Spanish in these three weeks than I have in my lifetime. My fluency jumped leaps and bounds, as did my confidence. And sometimes yes, when my brain hurt so badly from the constant translating and lack of ability, I did revert to English temporarily with those around me who also spoke English. But I don’t feel this took away from my immersion experience as I originally feared it might. Rather, it gave me a chance to recharge and recoup just a little bit, and that left me refreshed and ready to return to Spanish wholeheartedly once again. I think that had I not had these opportunities, I probably would have grown so tired and overwhelmed that many days I would have retired early just so that I could shut down. Instead, I found myself eagerly seeking out new and exciting cultural experiences and conversations late into many nights. And it was through these experiences that I learned so very much and saw the most personal growth within myself, both linguistically and culturally.

Like all great travelers, I have seen more than I remember, and remember more than I have seen.

-Benjamin Disraeli

As for how this experience will continue to resonate in my future, I can’t see a single minute of it not playing a role, as I myself have changed so very much. I have now experienced firsthand the trials and predicaments of being linguistically immersed in a foreign language. Although there were times I was jealous of my peers with greater Spanish skills, it was though this struggle that I experienced my own growth. I now have personalized experience from which to draw empathy and understanding for my future ELL students as they labor daily in learning a new language while being surrounded by it. And ultimately, that was my greatest objective in this experience.

But even more so (and unexpected) is how much I have changed at my very core. I was prepared to deal with cultural differences, but I was unprepared for how they would change my own perspective on my home culture. It is with new eyes that I examine everything around me now. Having experienced such differences in schools, customs, habits, language, and general personalities, I can’t help but constantly notice how the American culture compares. It makes me grateful for so many things I took for granted previously, and gives me vision for changes I’d like to be a part of. All of this will reverberate in my relationships with my family, friends, and future students. And I can’t help but think, how lucky for all of us.

An author and traveler named Mark Jenkins once said:

Adventure is a path. Real adventure- self-determined, self-motivated, often risky- forces you to have firsthand encounters with the world. The world the way it is, not the way you imagine it. Your body will collide with the earth and you will bear witness. In this way you will be compelled to grapple with the limitless kindness and bottomless cruelty of humankind- and perhaps realize that you yourself are capable of both. This will challenge you. Nothing will ever again be black-and-white.

I carried this quote with me for inspiration so many weeks ago. I thought the words were beautiful and the ideas were captivating. Now I get it. I get every word of that quote with my very being. And I realize that I truly did see so very much in shades of black and white those many weeks ago. Even when I thought I was seeing gray, I really wasn’t. But Argentina has opened up a whole new spectrum of grays to me. And those grays paint my current and future world in more vivid colors that I ever could have imagined. Jessie

A great place indeed

I couldn’t agree more

Celebrating el dia de los ninos with a new toy

A final day, marked in flowers

Hasta la vista, Buenos Aires

Back to Summer!

Posted on August 24, 2012 by pricemv

I will never forget all of the great memories that I have made in Argentina. To say a really enjoyed my ability to push myself and grow as a well rounded person would be an understatement. Since I’ve been back, many people are curious about my trip, but explaining every element in exact detail is impossible. I cannot possible create the same atmosphere for them that I experiences without them being there. Pictures help as I enthusiastically tell stories. I taught my friends and family how to make empanadas and brought back alfajores for them to be able to taste what I tasted. Videos allowed them to hear what I heard, but there is still no comparison.

“As a child, I dreamed of changing the world.”

My biggest caution as I try to recreate my experience for them is not generalizing or stereotyping. During my trip to Argentina, I did my best to be a positive ambassador for the United States. I helped people work through perceptions of the U.S. and its people. I tried to break down generalizations and build a more detailed picture of what my experiences have been growing up in this country. Now, I have the same duty to achieve the other way around. I cannot stress enough that my experience is limited. I only know what I saw, heard, felt, touched, smelled, tasted, and experienced in seven quick weeks. My experiences are based through my filter of the world in who I am and this point in my life. I was truly blessed to have the ability to explain my perception of the world.

Jenni loving her new high fashion scarf!

I am excited to be home and make the most of the two weeks of summer I will have this year. I enjoy swapping stories with my friends and giving them little gifts or memories that reminded me of them. Being with the people that you love is an amazing experience. For those who know me well, they have probably heard my firm belief the humans were not created to live alone. Networking is an integral part of who we are. I focus a lot on respect. Based on my experiences in the world people are very responsive to kind intentions. Very rarely will something bad happen to you when you are doing something good. Choosing your attitude and acknowledging you perspective is crucial. I acknowledge that my view of the world is unique compared to anyone else. As I continue to grow, I learn how to better interact with people by having an open mind and giving heart. Now, I have a new group of friends and some amazing memories that will stay with me and shape my view of the world for the rest of my life. I hope to never cease to learn and continue to widen my view of the world.

Chau for now!

Cain

Back to my Old Life… :(

Posted on August 23, 2012 by pricemv

My first thought as I landed back into the United States was content. I was thankful that I did not get stuck in the Buenos Aires airport, or that my suitcases didn’t get confiscated. In that moment, joy rushed over my body knowing that I didn’t get stranded in a foreign country.

At first I was glad to be home. I missed my family, my boyfriend, and my little dog, Nikita. But I felt as though something was missing. I had gotten so used to hearing and speaking Spanish 24/7 that I felt like I wasn’t doing something right here. It was so awkward at first speaking and hearing only English. Coming back to a town that is dead all the time, and has no noise whatsoever has been difficult to readjust to. But I have to admit, every night so far that I have been back sleeping in my own bed, I have slept like a baby. Something about the comfort of my own home.

In the amount of 7 weeks, I learned a lot from Argentina. Their way of living and the foods they eat and the items they possess are completely different from ours. But I would not say that they are any less important. Argentines are very passionate about their way of living. I only hope that someday we can be as passionate and realize that possessions don’t make a person.

Argentina will forever be in my heart. I can only imagine what is going on while I am away. I am excited for the day that I can return and possible work in the school system. Studying abroad has changed my life, and I hope that others had the same wonderful experiences as I did. Melissa

Bingo, Tango, Bongo

Posted on August 14, 2012 by pricemv

These last couple of days in Argentina have been amazing! There is no other way I would have liked to spend them. Every since I got my breath taken away by a stunning performance of the Argentina born tango, I have wanted to try this intimate ballroom dance. This last Thursday, I finally had my chance.

Testing the waters of TANGO!

Our group and the other program of exchange students went to a beautiful ballroom to meet for our first tango lesson. We were first told to circle up and watch as the instructors walked slowly though an eight count. Next, it was our turn to try. As happens many times, the girls outnumbered the guys significantly. I went through the steps with one partner a couple of times and then would pair up with someone else to give them a chance. After we were fairly comfortable with this first phrase, they stopped us to add another phrase with a little twist at the end (and by twist I mean kick). Our choreography ended with the lady delivering the trade mark kick of the tango between the gentlemen’s legs. As I was practicing correct form, I got corrected being told I looked like I was playing air guitar. Everyone found this comment amusing. When I did achieve correct form the lady instructor told me to wait right there as she rushed across the dance floor and gave a quick kick between my legs. We continued to practice among ourselves until we were almost out of time. They called couple of people up to show off their newly acquired skills in front of the whole group, but unfortunately I was not chosen. After the students, the instructors took their position to show off their skills. Their performance was fantastic and a great way to top off the lesson.

Gaining confidence and command of the dance floor!

The next day, I had made plans to go to a fund raiser with one of the other students. There are a lot of stray dogs that wonder the streets of Rosario. This fund raiser was to give food and shelter to some of these dogs. The fund raiser was a tea bingo. I thought that sounded delightful and asked if I could join. I met her at her house and we started to walk over. The place the bingo was at sat right on the river. She had the name of the place as we looked for this center. She said that it would be a bigger building, but when we finally found the name of the place, the sign was above a staircase with no building. We joked as we went down the stairs that this would the stair way down to our death because it was so sketchy. When we reached the bottom of the staircase there were a couple of mean setting and asked use what we wanted. It looked liked people would pay them to fish off the dock there. Once we asked if they knew where the event was, they automatically pointed us in the right direction. We continued through a long dark room until we finally saw some people in bright orange shirts happy to see use. We went up to a lady setting next to a large poster with a lot of dogs and a money box. We got our tickets and went in to find a table. There was an enthusiastic worker that spoke a little bit of English. She made sure we were comfortable.

Tea Time!

We started to drink our tea and went and got our slice of pie. Eventually, they started to hand out bingo card, but these bingo cards did not look like the ones I was used to in the States. The cards did not have to word “BINGO” anywhere on them. Instead, they had eight columns and six rectangles. Each rectangle was made up by 4X8 boxes. Various boxes were blacked out. These were all free spaces. Every card had every number from 1-90 on it. One through ten was on the far left and then the rows of ten went up from left to right. The first person that got a line won a prize. Then the first person to get a black out in one of the rectangles wins the game. The real fun actually happened before the game actually started.

What’s behind the paper?

There were candies in a bag that people were baying for 5 pesos each. Mary decided that she would go ahead and buy four because it was for a good cause. Each of the candies had a number on it. She asked what the numbers where for and one of the workers grabbed them from us saying they are a gift, so we supposed they were gone to the dogs. Then she came back shortly with four little presents for us. This was a pleasant surprise, so we enjoyed every little bit our each present. People around us went crazy for all of these little gifts. We quickly found out that there was no limit to what could be behind the wrapping paper. A woman sitting at our table held up a tong, so that made things more interesting really quickly as I slowly opened our last couple of present. On that same note, I was the only male at this event besides a little boy and one of the workers. I really enjoyed this tea that felt very much to me what I would imagine a shower to be like. The next day, I was able to take the girls to a stereotypical event for guys.

Game day baby!

Saturday night was easily one of the craziest events yet. We decided to go to one of Rosario’s soccer team’s match. When I told one of the university staff I was going to buy tickets, they said, “In Argentina, soccer is not a sport. It is a religion.” We all met Saturday afternoon to catch taxis over to the soccer stadium. To groups of us quickly managed to get taxis, but there were a couple guys that got cut off from us. We waited at the stadium for half an hour and then called them. They said they were just one there way. We waited another half an hour and called again. This time they had just been dropped off, but in a different place than we were. We met up with them and headed for the stadium. Signs of game day were everywhere. They whole area was a sea of the team’s yellow and blue colored gear and flags. People where car pooling by filling the back of a truck as full as possible or cramming in buses until no more people could fit. In that case, people started to sit on the rough. Everyone was egger to get to the game. When we finally reached that stadium, there were a lot of police. A line of men in riot gear watched us seriously as we walked to get patted down. Once we got pass the security check, we scanned our tickets and head to our seats. It took a little while to find where we were sitting, but we still had plenty of time to enjoy the buzzing atmosphere and people already cheering. We went to buy a pop and hot dog for very cheap compared to the steep prices of refreshments at U.S. stadiums. There were no ushers like in the stadiums I am used to either, and when we returned to our seats we discovered assigned seats turned out to be like many rules in Argentina, just a guideline. We stayed in the general area of our seats as the excitement started to grow. People were collectively yelling cheers before the team even touched the field. When the team did come out, the place exploded almost literally. People throw confetti and lit smoke bombs. The place erupted with chants in unison just organically. No one needed to call out or lead. Everyone just knew and felt. There were signs that said, “If you don’t feel, you don’t understand.” I may not have felt the connection to the team, but I felt the energy that the fans gave off.

Learning the “religion” from the locals.

The game started and the other team score in the first three minutes. This did not even put in the energy of the fans. If anything, this upset them into cheering louder. The score remained the same as the game went into half time. Usually many people in the states would take this time to grab a cold beer. Not in this stadium. All you could buy was water. My friend said if they need people with riot gear to control fans without alcohol, they do not need to put fuel on the flames. This was an excellent point and incredible to actually see played out. Despite the lack of alcohol, the fans never let down. They continued to be crazy. Some sat on rafters or others banged drums, and all joined in a constant cheer. At the end of half time I wanted a picture, so I stood at the railing with my Messi Argentina jersey one. Someone grabbed me and asked me why I had on a Messi jersey. When he realized I didn’t really understand, he wanted nothing to do with me, which was better for me. Another guy next to me was very nice and explained the Messi played for the rival team of Rosario Central. I knew that Messi was from Rosario, but did not know he actually played for Newell’s Old Boys, which is the other team in Rosario and the rivals of the team we were there to watch. I casually put on my jacket to enjoy the rest of the game. In the last five minute, the crowd when crazy. People lit flares and yelled, but Rosario Central did not score. This lead the crowd to whistle loudly. Not a happy whistle, but a mean spiteful one the echoed through the stadium. The immediately started to cuss out their own players accompanied by some flying objects. Eventually things died down after the team was in the locker room and we went to leave the stadium. Actually getting out proved to be a harder task than anticipated and the wall of people stood stagnant. I joked to one of my friends that this meant if there was a fire, we would be in really big trouble. There was finally a steady slow flow and people pushed up against one another. We made sure we were in contact with someone from our group, so we did not get split up. The streets were literally full of people. There was no chance of getting a taxi, so we started walking. We continued walking all the way home. We stopped at an ice cream shop about two hours later. Then on my way back to my house I saw lighting.

Going out with a bang!

I’ll miss you Argentina!

Cain

The First One off the Curb

Posted on August 12, 2012 by pricemv

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.

Fluency

Posted on August 8, 2012 by pricemv

I came to Argentina with one goal in mind: Become fluent in Spanish. However, I quickly realized that this goal, is not attainable. I have taken 6 years of Spanish classes, and had multiple conversations, multiple tests, worksheets, and accidental misunderstandings, and after being here in Argentina for 6 weeks, I realize that the word “fluent” for me implied a mastery of the language; as if somehow there was a magic point where I could understand everything, and express myself effortlessly.

After being here, and witnessing my Spanish improve greatly, I’m left to analyze if I have become “fluent”. As I reflect upon if I have achieved my goal, I realize that this view of language is completely incorrect. There is no time where Spanish will be effortless, because I have realized that language is effort. Even in English I struggle to express myself, I struggle to understand what other people are saying and thinking. Communication itself, the action of thinking and defining what we feel and what we see is an incredible challenge for everyone in any language. In the same way, it is a great challenge for all of humanity to listen and understand what someone else is thinking, feeling, and saying. To expect that my brain will reach a point where it’s not a challenge to express myself is a naive view of language.

So I have abandoned the idea that there’s a black and white linear process that occurs when learning another language. Everyday I learn more, everyday as I experience and feel life, I better my skills of expression in Spanish, and in English, as well as writing, singing, or dancing. They are all different ways to take what is inside of me and make it into a physical action of saying a word, writing a sentence, singing a note, or moving my body to the rhythm.

Learning Spanish has been one of the most rewarding experiences of my life. To find hundreds of new words, new ways, to say what I mean, is as much of a learning experience about myself, as it is about another culture, and other people. I now have this ability to say things in a new ways that more people will understand, to express myself differently. It’s all a mess of expression, y me encanta!

Emily

What’s in a Name? And Some Perspective…

Posted on August 6, 2012 by pricemv

I’m about to start my third full week here, and it’s simply amazing how fast time has flown by. This study abroad experience has been quite a whirlwind tour, jam packed with as many amazing experiences as possible. In two weeks I have completed 50 hours of classes, countless hours of homework, attended a gaucho party at an estancia in another province, toured a former clandestine detention center from the Argentine military dictatorship while listening to the account of former victim/prisoner, done a walking tour of the city, traveled 18 hours by bus to experience Iguazu Falls, visited a public school, viewed Rosario from 230 feet above in the flag monument, and quite literally had my brain brought to the brink of exhaustion many times as a result of being immersed in a foreign language conversation. Each and every one of those experiences has been simply unforgettable and awe-inspiring. But it has been during my quiet moments here in Argentina that I think I have learned the most.

In Argentina I have taken on a temporarily altered identity. It all began with my name. Never have I understood the importantance of a name for one’s sense of identity than since arriving here. Although my entire life (well, my entire married life, anyway) I have been Jessie Pad”eee”a, here in Argentina, where they pronounce the double LL differently, I am referred to as Padi”gja”. A very important detail that almost led to missing my bus the very first day. In addition to my last name, Argentineans have no basis for pronouncing my first name, in the form of the nickname I have used my entire life. When I offer “Jessie” at a request for my name, more often than not I am met with a puzzled look. When it gets communicated that it is a shortened version of Jessica, the light comes on (ah, Jey si ca!) and I am thereafter referred to as Jessica, as though I was the confused one.

I have realized through this process that a name is so much more than I always gave it credit for. It is something that is inherently yours, despite the fact that it holds no material body or wealth. It is a sense of identification beyond necessity. After 34 years, my name (and it’s pronunciation) has become as much a part of me as the freckles on my nose and the shape of my fingernails. To have it altered by others carries a sense of intrusion and theft. These emotions have caused me to reflect upon the Americanization of names so often dealt out to diverse ethnic groups at the hands of well meaning U.S. citizens. As a future teacher, I now understand the sense of loss and powerlessness associated with such practice, and will always make it of utmost priority to first and foremost learn the correct pronunciation of each and every student name in my classroom.

Along with my new alias has come an altered daily routine and persona. In Argentina I have not been wearing makeup. This is a small detail that contains several personal implications. Although I don’t wear much makeup ordinarily, there is a feeling of professionalism and finishing touch that accompanies the process. We tend to hide our flaws and present perfected faces to the world. What was born from laziness and surrender (23 hours of travel can do that to a person) has developed into a new identity. Here I am a temporary resident whose sole purpose is to learn and experience. I have no need to impress or present a polished appearance. I am a child of foreign experiences, traveling each day with wide-eyed appreciation and wonder.

In these daily travels I have additionally lost my typical stride. At home, I swiftly walk from destination to destination, sure of my place in the world. Here I walk with care and interest, my stride too often interrupted by new sights, smells, and noises. I have become the mumbling wanderer, always trying out new words to test the shape of their formation in my mouth (“el sandwicheto”, “cataratas”, “los desaparecidos”). Aside from my mumblings I am a silent stranger here, spending hours each day simply walking; walking the 10 blocks to school, the same blocks home, to the great Parana river, the grocery store, and various local landmarks. And sometimes, just walking to experience Argentina.

It was within one of these walks with no destination yesterday that I began to think about levels of experience in regards to life. When I began this journey, in its earliest planning stages, Argentina was nothing more than a colored shape on so many maps in my life. A neatly drawn, simple closed curve with artificial color. It was symbolic and clean, familiar with its contours but lacking in personality.

As I flew into the country I plunged one level deeper. I saw Argentina itself, although from a considerable distance. Seeing the mountaintops, river systems, grids of cities, and grasslands all under the same types of clouds that blanket my own home made it that much more real. The beauty was breathtaking, but it could have been any county. The was no way to differentiate. I always think back to the cartoons I watched when I was little, and how when they would go really high up in the sky they could look down and see all the political boundaries and country names drawn below them. For a long time in my youth I thought that was how it really was. Looking down at Argentina though, I had no guideposts. There was just the natural beauty of a magnificent country.

Last weekend some of the other students and I paid the 5 pesos to take the elevator 70 meters up to the top of the flag monument. The view was spectacular, with the river to one side and buildings as far as one could see on the other. I noted, as I was gazing our across the city, that you couldn’t really see any of the fantastic architecture of Rosario. This city is remarkably rich in historic and diverse architecture. The streets are lined up and down with rich colors, lines, and adornments. None of that could be seen from the monument, though. We could only see the tallest buildings, standing out above very thing else. And the tallest buildings are the most plain, constructed purely out of necessity for a rapidly expanding community. There was a sense of irony standing there 230 feet above the city, as I could see so much but at the same time so little. I could see the city in its entirety, but I couldn’t see any of the beautiful intricacies that make Rosario what it is.

At the deepest level of my journey have been my meanderings through the streets. At this level I cannot see the rooftops or the complete river system. I can’t see much beyond one street at at a time. In terms of quantity, my sight is limited. But it is here that I taste the essence of Rosario. And when you venture to experience anything at its deepest levels all your experiences are going to be that much more vivid and striking; the good and the bad.

While walking the streets I have to watch out for broken sidewalks, insane traffic routines, and lots and lots of dog poop. I see the bird with a broken wing, shaking in fear at my approach but unable to get away. I see the dogs who are sickly and hurt, hobbling around on 3 legs or creeping along in exhaustion. I see the children who quietly come into the restaurants, placing small wares on each table in the hopes that someone will pay a few pesos for them. I experience the pain that comes with life at it’s most elemental levels. And this leaves me raw and wishing for that disinfected and refined distance the maps, planes, and monuments provide me.

But it is in this level that I break into a grin at the 3 young children high on a balcony overlooking Orono Blvd, screaming “hola!” at the top of their lungs to each and every car that passes by. I see the couples embracing on the park benches, lost in one another for that moment in time. I inhale the warm scents of pastries and meats wafting from restaurants and walk though the laughter of friends and family gathered around patio tables on the sidewalk. I enjoy the music and art of street performers, the jazz of a trumpet matching my stride and giving my step a little extra pep. I experience the best of Rosario- its heart and soul.

So life is what we make of it. Some prefer to remain at a safe and comfortable distance, never experiencing the sight of a broken wing but never inhaling the scents of a neighborhood bakery either. Some may hold themselves above it all, believing themselves superior as a result of their more extensive viewpoint. This view, although wide, is very shallow in depth. And then there are those who dive in and submerse themselves. Although their field of vision might not be as large, comprehension is rich and saturated. There are belly laughs that cause you to ache with joy and tears that sting a raw and exposed soul. There is beauty at its very best and pain at its very worst.

And that is what this journey has been for me. It’s been about getting dirty and scared, rewarded and inspired. It’s forcing myself to remain at those deepest levels when it hurts or feels hard, and then experiencing the bubbles of pure joy and excitement that accompany so many of my experiences. I may not be able to see it all, but my limited view offers a much greater perspective.

Jessie