Category: thoughts

I pause and wonder the question very carefully.  How do they event want me to answer?  How do I even begin to answer? And what is the intent behind this question?  What seems to be a fairly straight forward answer has become one that I sometimes find myself unable to speak of .  

“Where are you from?” – has been the postmark question since first arriving in the states back in 1995.

Now at the age of 35, this question haunts me wherever I go in the world.  Should I answer regarding my origins? Where I was born and raised? Should I make note of my immigration to America.  But what if I don’t feel “American”.  What does that even mean? 

A friend once said that all people who hold a US passport are considered “gringos”. Whoa!!!! Gringos, the word I have come to associate to white drunk party girls and cargo wearing white guys in Cancun.  Me… a gringo?! 

Maybe the most challenging part of this questions is not that I can’t answer it, its that I am not able to come to terms with the fact that I do not below anywhere.  Unable to bring myself to a label that I may not otherwise agree with. Cuba is where I was born and raised, the US is where I immigrated, but it is not where I feel at home.  Home has become a feeling and not a geographical location.  So how do you answer such question? 

Sitting across a friend at a bar; he allows me go on and on about my endless questions, continual pondering, and self serving ability to question everything.  He allows me to finish…puts down his drink and says…

”Girl…just say your from New York.” 

Checkmate

“Te ves un poco mas flaco” said my friend as he poured me another cup of mate. “Mejor no flaco si no mas….ligero”.  

The accent hits me like a train going a thousand miles per hour.  The smell of warm humid air touches my skin. The loud conversations surround me as I step outside to grab a cab.  I haggle over a cab fare and jump on.  I discuss politics with the cab driver and the current financial hardship plaguing the country.  I have arrived in Buenos Aires. 

It has been over a year since I last came here and somehow this time I feel as though I am stepping into this city for the first time again.  Having lost a relationship in this city, I wondered what this experience would be like.  Would I miss my ex? Would seeing things that we once shared bring back memories of our time here?  

I take a sip of my mate….”Si, me ciento diferente y listo para crear una nueva experiencia en esta ciudad…”

The mate tastes the same. 

After just 4 short days in Colombia, I decided to call it quits  Its not that I didn’t like the country, its just that it was time to go.

While walking home up a hill it began to rain and I shortly found myself asking…”what am I doing here?”  Having traveled for 6 months now, my body began to have a state of shock of being somewhere were I could go back and feel at home in.  Because that does not currently exist, I thought…”where am I to go back to? It soon hit me…anywhere where there is good wifi!!

In my travels in South America, I have come to appreciate good wifi.  Its something that is not often thought about back in the states, but overseas…well thats a whole other story.

Later to a dinner?…no pasa nada

Forgot to call someone back? …no pasa nada

Care about anything in life? …no pasa nada

An expression I have come to loath while being here in Argentina. It means, “dont worry about it”, “it doesn’t matter”, or “nothing happens”. An expression often used by Argentinians to indicate that nothing is going on or as a transition point to another topic. To dismiss a situation or make it seem as if it does not have relevance.

Its often stated that we latin folks are always late to things. That we take life a bit easier and don’t have as many worries. While there are some things about this that I find appealing, there are times when gravity must be given to a situation.

I will not lie that being in Argentina has been difficult. Having gone through a breakup in another country can be a bit lonely. Exacerbated by the fact that the people here are very cold and isolated; and trust me…it takes a lot for me to say that.I am from New York.

Argentinians are the type of folks that require years before they let you into the “circle”. They are weary of other people. I found often times talking to them but somehow not connecting. Not getting to that deeper part of someone and what they are thinking or feeling. The core of our humanity.

The reputation is that Argentinias are very direct, but I have found quite the opposite. When often faced with an issues, they will not tackled it head on. They will tip toe around the issue. Something that was quite surprising given their “direct” reputation. How can one be so direct yet so obscure? Better ask an Argentinian.

One of the ways this manifested the worst was during my hookups in Argentina. Hooking up here is strange. You can see someone one time and never see them again. No matter how close to them you got and/or how great your chemistry was. You will never see them again. I asked a friend why this was and he mentioned that Argentinias are people that dont’ allow themselves pleasures in life. If they like someone they pull away. Sort like when you were young and you punched the girl in the playground. Most of them are in relationships for the sake of not being alone. Even in hook up apps, most of the people are “in a relationship” and the ones that are single…well thats another story.

I will say that not all my experience has been negative…I have met people here.  Good people.  I have Lucho & Alejandro. A colombian and argentinian couple who I met while playing rugby here.  They took me into their home and shared a part of their culture that was very different than I was used to.  The explained all the fassets of Argentina and the elusive ..”no pasa nada”.  I have met Sebastian & German, an argentinian couple who also explained to me the tricks of how to manage such culture.  In them, I sought knowledge of the things I didnt understand and in time hoped that I would adapt to this culture.

My time here has come to an end and as I pack my things to go to Brazil, I can’t help but wonder wether my time here was negative because of them, the culture, or my breakup.

In Brazil, I hope to find that answer.