After grocery shopping, buying two pairs of earrings, ice cream, and lunch yesterday, I spent 143 pesos. That sounded like a ton, and I was worried about how much I was spending. But then I realized that this is only $37 in the States. I get scared off by the high peso amount and forget the exchange rate. Sometimes I can get a pretty good dinner with only 5 US dollars.
After a day of feeling a bit depressed, I found a good remedy. Family. I skyped with my brother Kevin at home and we caught each other up on our lives. I love him so much! I spent the night at home with my familia here in Argentina, also. This was just as effective at cheering me up :) I met Juanita, the 4 year old granddaughter of mi mamá. She is absolutely precious. She has white blonde hair and is very cute. It is a whole new experience trying to speak another language to a child, in the way that they shout exclamations every few seconds, invent words or phrases, and ask really to-the-point questions. It is also more nerve-wracking for me to try and communicate with a 4 year-old than with a teenager or adult. Maybe because I feel more pressure to understand what they are saying, since they don’t yet have the inhibitions to be polite when I totally screw up the grammar or use a word that they don’t use in Argentina. It’s awesome how astute children are. As soon as I introduced myself and left the room for a moment, Juanita asked her grandma why I talked differently from her. We watched almost 15 episodes of Tom and Jerry, and I realized how poor my Spanish vocabulary is. I don’t know the words for “snoring", “kangaroo”, and a number of other useful words that prevented me from expressing what I was thinking during our television time. This is a problem! My Madison friends helped me write a to-do list for Argentina, and now I can cross something off: Talk to someone in each age category in Spanish: a toddler, a child, a teenager, an adult, and an elderly person. Check! I even did extra credit and talked to a dog.
Bringing one suitcase of luggage was a pretty tough thing for me to comprehend. How am I supposed to live off one suitcase for 5 months? Especially when running shoes, a rain coat and a fall coat take up so much room. I definitely minimized my wardrobe here, and I enjoy the feeling. Of course there are times when I really feel like wearing that one shirt that I left at home.. But I’ve come to the realization that nothing is wrong with wearing the same dress twice in a week. I haven’t gone to the laundromat yet because I am avoiding it, but I am doing okay without it for now. Sometimes I look in my small closet, see the limited amount of stuff that I brought, and wish that I really did only have that much stuff. Of course, if I really did wish that, I would Skype my mother and tell her to give all of my stuff to charity. I guess I am just too used to having things. Maybe one day I can be more of a minimalist.
I have come to another realization that maybe it isn’t such a bad thing when people immediately know that I’m North-American. Why is it imperative that I abandon my culture and try desperately to blend into theirs? I will not be rude and try to stand out, of course, but if someone from Argentina came to the US and started talking, I would know where they were from. Is that such a bad thing? We are a part of our own cultures, and we take a part of that culture with us no matter where we go. While it’s great to learn new languages and try out new traditions and customs, I know that I do not have to be embarrassed when I am identified as a norteamericana. Maybe at first it struck me as unfortunate because of all of the negative stereotypes that go along with being from the United States. However, I often times forget about the positive ones. A new doorman (Luis) guessed my origin and was thrilled; he spoke of what a beautiful country it was and how beautiful its people were. He spoke to me in Spanish but also a bit in English, and I have learned not to take offense by this either. Some people just really want to practice their English, and are delighted that they know a few words so they can try to relate to you. It is the same as when I speak with one of the cooks at my restaurant from Mexico in Spanish. If someone from Peru came to the US, I would by no means want them to pretend to be from anywhere other than Peru. Our cultural differences are one of the things that make us all different, and we should have pride for our country. Being proud of my mother country and having an interest in integrating into this new country is a tricky balancing act, but I am going to strive for success.
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