revelations

One reason I'm here is for the differences: similarities between cultures are on the level of individual characteristics. You are as likely to find kind souls, generous with their time in BA as you are in Chambersburg...or not. And equally as likely to find bigotry in some forms with only the name of the target of intolerance changed to protect the innocent (the assumption I'm making is that the bigotry is unwarranted or else we'd call it something different).

Two things first. People talk more openly to me here in BA than they did in MVD. Actually more openly than they do at the place where I reside when not here. For example, my new Spanish teacher—who will be my ex-Spanish teacher come Monday—shared all manner of intimacies with me. Our purported connection--there is always a connection to every relationship here—is that she had lived in Greece for 15 years. She speaks and writes Greek but not always correctly as my mother pointed out as I tried to understand some convoluted explanation of the similarities in sentence construction in Greek and Spanish when using a direct object with a reflexive verb. This teacher does not speak English so all her scribbled notes are in Greek in a cursive form that I do not read, but even after sussing something out and asking my mother about it, examples have often proven to be grammatically incorrect. But that's only one strike. The second is that because I understand her spoken Greek and her Spanish at a level above where I'm supposed to be, she speaks rapidly, conversationally and while in response to my request for her to slow down so that I could follow the whole thing she said that she needed to talk to me as a student and not a friend (hmmmm?) it seemed to be a difficult thing for her to do. A few more strikes that I won't discuss but I'll just say that after the first class I knew I wasn't going to learn from her. I promised to give her a second chance but the second class revealed even more problems; still I promised to finish off the week and then the academic coordinator would come up with an impersonal way of foisting me onto someone else. But that last class exemplifies the sort of intimacies that people here share with me, as if personal boundaries are much narrower than those we know. On that last day, where I had only 90 minutes of lesson instead of 120 because she fiddled with things in and out of the room so long, I learned that she had cramps, that she was on a diet and that is why she kept running to the bathroom, that she'd been married twice but was single again and mostly ate microwaved dinners alone in her room, that her first husband, a Greek, had been her first true love and actually her only true love, that she was filled with Latin passion and hopelessly romantic. She told me all this in Spanish-Greek instead of helping me with my homework regarding the pretérito perfecto compuesto. And then she gave me a quiz, kind of like the ones you find in Cosmo. It was titled 'Are you Romantic'. Things like—have you ever fallen in love at first sight?—have you declared your love on radio or television?—have you lied for love—? I told her before we started that I was hopelessly NOT romantic but she wanted me to take the quiz anyway. I turned out to be a cold person, only answering in the affirmative to: have you ever said I love you & have you ever travelled a long distance for love. And then I listened to all those intimate details about her passionate self that contrasted to my cold hearted one. Lucky for me I already understood the verb tense but it really wasn't necessary that I know that while it is important that a man be intelligent it is more important that he be a good lover. I've thought about it and I don't believe that I have ever spoken to students about such things.

Okay she is just one example of immediate intimacy...I'll tell more some other time.

The second thing is the number of national holidays, so many that people often do not know what they are for simply that it is a day that many people get off work. I guess in a country with many revolutions it is hard to keep track of new holidays as they crop up. The one forthcoming on March 24 is just an example. There is neither class nor volunteering that day. I asked several educated people what holiday we were celebrating and without question people thought perhaps it was holy Wednesday, which is a week later. I got closer with the explanation that it was an independence from dictatorship day but as to which dictator and when I could not get a straight answer from anyone I know so I had to search it out online. I'll write about it after I visit Plaza de Mayo (Ma-show) to see what it means to celebrate one of many days of independence. For now I'll tell you that the day was only commemorated in 2002 and made a national holiday in 2006, so nobody actually grew up with it being a holiday. And what it commemorates is all the people who went lost and missing during the period of time that began on March 24, 1976 and ended in 1983 during a period of time called 'the National Reorganization Process' then and 'the last military dictatorship' or 'the last junta' now. I can't pretend to know other than what I have read and what I shadowly remember from that time, but I may have more to say once I go see the 'massive official events and demonstrations' that mark the day. Or so I'm told.

But the bigotry--for the second time a person I did not know cane to visit me. I wrote about the first one who has 3 degrees of separation from me; this person is five removed from someone I know. I was grateful that the visit took place at my place because I have a little cold. But something uncomfortable happened and I'm not sure how I feel about a repeat. One of the cleaning women came to do her thing and she is someone I really like. She and her weekday sidekick crack me up, in Spanish, and I give them both the worksheets from La Boca because they want to learn English. All the service employees do but they don't have time for classes. So we do a little learning here and there. I tend to be in more than other guests because I'm doing homework or prepping for class so I try out my Spanish on them since I have more than that than they do English. They want to find me an Argentinean boyfriend so that I'm not lonely at night...they want me to eat meat so I get more meat on my bones (pasta is doing a good job of that). I don't always understand the jokes and ribbing but we all laugh. Laughter is always good and even better in a group.

Now I should mention that like in Montevideo, Argentina is in the 97%s white (of Spanish & Italian origin) and 3% mestizo (mixed or non-white. A., the woman who makes me laugh, is one of the miniscule number of mestizo in the city. And she is from Paraguay. These are just some facts.

After a left, I told my guests how much I liked the people in this place I'm staying. What came out of her mouth next was 90% Spanish so I must be grasping more of the spoken language. Her near-tirade had to do with people from the US not understanding the class system in Argentina. That a was probably in the country illegally because that's what people do—come into Argentina and stay, brought in to clean the house of a rich person then taking a job. And that I shouldn't fool myself—if anyone was being nice to me it was because he or she thought I was rich. Except for Alejandro, the manager, because he was from the same small outlying town as she (they'd spoken before she'd come up to my room) but even then it was his job. That I could only trust people of my class (like her?????). It went on—how was it I was going to stay longer than my 90 day visa when the same privilege was not afforded to her by the US? And why was I REALLY here—the volunteering/learning Spanish had to be a ruse. Nobody goes to La Boca Maybe I was looking for a job? Native English speakers were popular as teachers of the language but non-native Argentineans could still do the job at half the cost. And then she wanted me to teach her some stuff in English. It was very off putting.

Of course there are class systems all around even if they are not formally recognized. That doesn't mean there are absolute barriers. And everyone raised in another country is not illegally working in the one of note. I know this plays out everywhere on different levels and I don't need to say more. But with a weak monetary system more people are apt to become even more anti- this or that group. Still, an odd 'welcome to my country' gift. In my own Pollyannaish way I am going to continue to think people are nice to me because I am nice to them.

A parting best image of the week: a few classes ago the homework for the La Boca crowd was to bring in a sentence or phrase in English. Angel, who travels an hour from one of the 'Villas' (ve-shaws) to get to class brought in 'we are the world'. He knew what it meant, and associated it with Michael Jackson. Angel had to miss a few classes but he was there on Thursday. So we all gathered around my iPhone with its crummy sound and listened to the song that I'd downloaded from iTunes. And I had printed off a few copies of the lyrics—another reason we were scrunched together. The perfect moment was the chorus. The first time they looked at the paper...We Are, lesson 1...the second time some whispers, the third time voices. I was asked to play it again and this time we got voices and arms swaying.

Next time I'm bringing in We are the Champions with a video if I can find another one than the one I have in which Freddie Mercury runs on stage at the end of the song wearing only a pair of long tighty-whiteys. I'm not sure I can explain it.

Oh, and one last thing because I didn't write about it last week. My hair needed a serious trim but I'd been told to beware because unless you can speak excellent Spanish you are apt to end up with a mullet, which is the style of choice apparently. So I had Alejandro help me craft several sentences describing that I only wanted the tips cut off and then I went and took my chances. During the FIRST haircut, the dude got distracted because a neighborhood woman came in and told a hilarious story that had something to do with a fish and her husband. He stopped twice in mid-cut to laugh and ask questions so I ended up with a very uneven cut and much more than a trim. I walked away (after the obligatory kiss) wondering how I was going to even it out then found another place and tried again. I will report that I am no longer growing my hair out on top, but at the back, on the bottom, it is about as long as it was before I started last Saturday. So, I ended up with a short version of a mullet. I doubt that I could have stopped either of these guys from doing what they did even if I was better versed in the lexicon of haircuts in Spanish. I'll post a picture soon so that you can see the results. And I'm going to find someone with a steady hand to even off the back bottom. Or not. Maybe when in BA….