Adding to this year's adventures, I'm now spending several weeks in Sao Paulo! My visit here is very different than my stay in Argentina: it's shorter, I don't speak the language (Portuguese), and my focus is necessarily more on work than it was in my foray further south. In some ways, then, I feel less immersed in the culture here than I was in Buenos Aires. On the other hand, I am fully incorporated into the local team here, and that has given me a richer and more connected experience.
Having these two experiences back to back has attuned me to the differences in Brazilian & Argentinian culture; here are a few:
In Argentina, the political engagement was palpable. Love her or hate her, President Kirchener was in the news constantly, and the press gave detailed coverage even to non-events like her trade delegation visit to Italy. Political protests are daily events in Buenos Aires, and they often close the major arteries, snarling traffic for hours. As the shadow of the dictatorship passes, young Argentinians increasingly feel empowered to work through the political system to shape their national future. When President Humala, a long-term ally of the Kirchener family, was elected in Peru, there was an excited buzz about the growth of a moderate-leftist block in the Southern Cone. The hard reality is that the Argentinian economy continues to go sideways, and many fear that a crisis may be looming. But coexisting with that sense of uncertainty is an earnest excitement among many Argentinians who feel newly empowered to shape their country's future.
The situation in Brazil is quite different. Brazilians have a reputation for being apolitical, and I've found this to be the case. People here don't raise the subject of politics with me, and when it does come up, the conversation doesn't go much deeper than head-shaking over political corruption and inadequate infrastructure. Party affiliation is weak here: ordinary people don't seem to identify with one political group or the other - a striking contrast with Argentina, where the political machines have formed youth groups and neighborhood associations that bring politics into people's daily lives.
If politics is not a dominant theme in Brazil, money is: Brazilians are known to be committed consumers. Public life in Sao Paulo revolves around its shopping malls, which are sprinkled throughout the city. Prime time television routinely airs shopping shows where the hosts walk through a store and talk about what is for sale and how much it costs; other Consumer Reports-type shows put manufacturers' claims to the test. Though superficial in one sense, the focus on spending is understandable and even exciting given the economic boom here and way it is raising scores of people from abject poverty into improved circumstances.
A final point of contrast: I find Brazilians to be forward-looking, less focused on history than on what the future may bring. For Argentinians, on the other hand, the past is still present in so many ways. In the 1930s, Argentina was one of the richest countries in the world, and the feeling of lost glory weighs heavy on the national psyche. The legacy of the dictatorship still has Argentinians talking of the need for justice and national reconciliation - even 20 years after its fall. The tango, Argentina's traditional dance, is based in feelings of loss and longing. "Saudade" meaning longing or nostalgia is a Brazilian word, but I feel it better describes the Argentinian world view. I feel a seriousness, an earnestness, and a traditionalism in Argentina that I don't feel in Brazil.
Brazil (or at least Sao Paulo) is all about the future: growth, development, and a new-found role on the world stage. Explosive growth has almost obliterated any trace of traditional architecture and any sense of the past. Brazilians are unconflicted about this: modern architecture is the rage - the newer and cleaner, the better. While Argentinians seem almost French in their traditionalism and their love of complexity, Brazilian Paulistas remind me of LA.
Saturday, September 17, 2011
Wednesday, June 15, 2011
ARGENTINA: How People Act in Public
Like most nationalities (except we odd Americans), the Argentinians are not very "smiley" when they are out in public. Instead, they move through the public world with pretty neutral expressions on their faces - neither noticeably happy nor unhappy.
However, this lack of visible joy doesn't equate to a lack of concern for their fellow man. Argentinians are remarkably solicitious of each other in public - a fact that I've heard foreigners of all nationalities remark on. People unfailing give up their seat on the subway to pregnant women and the disabled. Taxi drivers and small shop owners will routinely round down your bill so you don't have to deal with small change, and wave you off with "don't worry about it." Last week, I dropped some papers while I was waiting for the subway. They were right at my feet - I could easily have picked them up - but two strangers gathered them up and returned them to me before I even had a chance to bend down. I gave a big smile of thanks and got the hint of a grin in return...Again, not real smiley, but very kind.
Another striking feature of public life is the extent to which public discourse occurs through unspoken language. The best way to illustrate this is to start with the tango. In a milonga or tango-hall, a man traditionally asks a woman to dance by locking eyes with her across the room. A moment passes, and then one of them stands up and approaches the other person to wordlessly accept the invitation. This sounds horribly corny until you experience it, and then it's actually nice. The custom does pose certain risks, though: I spent one afternoon stumbling around the dance floor with very experienced tango dancers after I continued to inadvertently accept their offers to dance.
This custom of non-verbal communication still persists in modern times & I've experienced it myself. One day, I was sitting on a crowded subway car in the seat intended for the disabled or the pregnant. I felt guilt-free - everyone around me was fully 'abled' and did not need my seat - until across the car, I suddenly noticed a pregnant woman standing near the door. I felt bad that I was taking the seat she rightfully deserved, so I was probably looking at her pretty intently when, across that crowded subway car, she made clear eye contact with me, smiled, and shook her head 'no thanks' in a friendly way. Wow, so that's how they do it! I felt like a real Argentinian.
However, this lack of visible joy doesn't equate to a lack of concern for their fellow man. Argentinians are remarkably solicitious of each other in public - a fact that I've heard foreigners of all nationalities remark on. People unfailing give up their seat on the subway to pregnant women and the disabled. Taxi drivers and small shop owners will routinely round down your bill so you don't have to deal with small change, and wave you off with "don't worry about it." Last week, I dropped some papers while I was waiting for the subway. They were right at my feet - I could easily have picked them up - but two strangers gathered them up and returned them to me before I even had a chance to bend down. I gave a big smile of thanks and got the hint of a grin in return...Again, not real smiley, but very kind.
Another striking feature of public life is the extent to which public discourse occurs through unspoken language. The best way to illustrate this is to start with the tango. In a milonga or tango-hall, a man traditionally asks a woman to dance by locking eyes with her across the room. A moment passes, and then one of them stands up and approaches the other person to wordlessly accept the invitation. This sounds horribly corny until you experience it, and then it's actually nice. The custom does pose certain risks, though: I spent one afternoon stumbling around the dance floor with very experienced tango dancers after I continued to inadvertently accept their offers to dance.
This custom of non-verbal communication still persists in modern times & I've experienced it myself. One day, I was sitting on a crowded subway car in the seat intended for the disabled or the pregnant. I felt guilt-free - everyone around me was fully 'abled' and did not need my seat - until across the car, I suddenly noticed a pregnant woman standing near the door. I felt bad that I was taking the seat she rightfully deserved, so I was probably looking at her pretty intently when, across that crowded subway car, she made clear eye contact with me, smiled, and shook her head 'no thanks' in a friendly way. Wow, so that's how they do it! I felt like a real Argentinian.
Que Rico!
When Argentinians want to say that food is delicious, they say "Que Rico!" (It's so rich!). I heard this phrase alot, because people would use it to recommend that I try specific restaurants or certain dishes.
I soon discovered that the phrase is an interesting cultural Rorschach test because, though my conversation partner intended it as the highest praise, I didn't hear it that way at all. My American brain, influenced by our health-conscious society, went through an immediate and highly consistent chain of associations...
"rico" = rich = fatty = greasy = unpleasant = unhealthy
...and, assuming that my conversation partner was actually warning me AWAY from a dish, I would spontaneously start making an "oh that's too bad!" face.
Long after I learned that "rico" is actually a term of praise, I remained stuck in this associative chain. It probably made me an odd and slow conversation partner, because I would have to go through the whole rico-rich-fatty-ick-unhealthy-disappointed face routine before I could arrive at the speaker's real intention, and put on a happy face!
While I'm talking about food, I should probably tell you what they eat here - and, in brief, it's Italian food along with some unique Argentinian contributions. As I mentioned in another posting, Argentina (and in fact the whole Rio de la Plata confluence) was enormously impacted by immigration from Italy in the early 20th century; today, 70% of the people living in Buenos Aires are of European and primarily Italian descent. "Normal" food is therefore pasta, pizza, empanadas, and asada (or grilled meat). The pasta is better than I knew pasta could be, and so fresh that restaurant menus routinely have separate food categories on their menus for "House Pasta" (i.e., made here) and "Dry Pasta" (we bought it). On the 29th day of the month, it's customary for Argentinians of all economic levels to have gnocchi for dinner: those potato dumplings are cheap and filling so they became the traditional dish for making your paycheck stretch the final days until payday. One day I was walking past a restaurant and happened to see gnocchi among their list of specials on their chalkboard. My instant thought was - "oh yeah, I guess it IS the 29th" - and in the next moment, I felt like such a local!
I soon discovered that the phrase is an interesting cultural Rorschach test because, though my conversation partner intended it as the highest praise, I didn't hear it that way at all. My American brain, influenced by our health-conscious society, went through an immediate and highly consistent chain of associations...
"rico" = rich = fatty = greasy = unpleasant = unhealthy
...and, assuming that my conversation partner was actually warning me AWAY from a dish, I would spontaneously start making an "oh that's too bad!" face.
Long after I learned that "rico" is actually a term of praise, I remained stuck in this associative chain. It probably made me an odd and slow conversation partner, because I would have to go through the whole rico-rich-fatty-ick-unhealthy-disappointed face routine before I could arrive at the speaker's real intention, and put on a happy face!
While I'm talking about food, I should probably tell you what they eat here - and, in brief, it's Italian food along with some unique Argentinian contributions. As I mentioned in another posting, Argentina (and in fact the whole Rio de la Plata confluence) was enormously impacted by immigration from Italy in the early 20th century; today, 70% of the people living in Buenos Aires are of European and primarily Italian descent. "Normal" food is therefore pasta, pizza, empanadas, and asada (or grilled meat). The pasta is better than I knew pasta could be, and so fresh that restaurant menus routinely have separate food categories on their menus for "House Pasta" (i.e., made here) and "Dry Pasta" (we bought it). On the 29th day of the month, it's customary for Argentinians of all economic levels to have gnocchi for dinner: those potato dumplings are cheap and filling so they became the traditional dish for making your paycheck stretch the final days until payday. One day I was walking past a restaurant and happened to see gnocchi among their list of specials on their chalkboard. My instant thought was - "oh yeah, I guess it IS the 29th" - and in the next moment, I felt like such a local!
The Big Question
Like all longer overseas immersions, this has been an emotional time with significant highs and lows. As some of you know, a painful point for me has been the lack of connection with my co-workers. Though everyone is cordial with me in the office, no one has invited me out for a meal, introduced me around the office, or really initiated any contact outside of saying hi in the morning. It's been lonely and - especially in the context of Latin culture - quite surprising to me. I couldn't understand what was going on.
Now, on the eve of my departure, I think I have figured it out, so now I'll tell it the best I can, in the only way I can.
I'll start with some snapshots that reveal one way that Americans are perceived by Argentinians:
As the crisis reached its peak in 2001, bank accounts were frozen to prevent a run on the banks; a new currency, the Argentino, was introduced in an effort to combat inflation; and stores were looted as people reached a point of desperation. With its advocacy for neoliberal policies and its leadership at the IMF, the US was viewed as a major player in causing this crisis. It appeared we had pushed neoliberalism on Argentina and then stood by as a society imploded.
In the US, we have a remarkably efficient society that can also be viewed as ruthlessly efficient and cold. I think this perception has in some instances impacted how people received me here. I wasn't included because people assumed that knowing them simply wasn't that important to me. During lunch with my co-worker, I finally got up the nerve to ask her why my companeros hadn't reach out to me more. She said, "oh we figured you were just here to study Spanish and that was your focus." Well - yes - but that didn't rule out wanting to make friends too.
In my new job with Latin America, I've encountered remarkably little anti-American sentiment, but I think this more subtle undercurrent is probably often there, invisible but real. To some extent, it's a logical reaction to the history of the region and the role developed economies have played here. Now that I know the attitude is there, I hope to work against it with my own personal diplomacy. In a goodbye note I sent to my co-workers here, I said "En Buenos Aires, he tenido una gran oportunidad de mejorar mi español, pero las personas son siempre más importante que un idioma" (In Buenos Aires, I've had a great opportunity to improve my Spanish, but people are always more important than a language). I hope this is the beginning of a better understanding between us all.
Now, on the eve of my departure, I think I have figured it out, so now I'll tell it the best I can, in the only way I can.
I'll start with some snapshots that reveal one way that Americans are perceived by Argentinians:
- In Argentina, when a person arrives at the office, they go around and kiss all their friends and co-workers on the cheek. Sometimes they exchange a few sentences; other times they have a longer conversation. In either case, it's a lovely way to acknowledge each other's presence. Once when a co-worker and I were exchanging our morning kiss, she made the off-hand comment: "they don't do this in the US, do they? That's so cold!"
- I really like to chat with cab drivers in Latin America. They often have interesting things to say, and it's a great way for me to practice my Spanish. On several occasions, cab drivers in Argentina have told me "you're so friendly! Usually Americans are so cold. They just want to go somewhere; they don't want to talk."
- Finally, my last weekend here, a co-worker invited me out for lunch. We had a lovely time eating asada in a traditional grill restaurant and chatting. At one point, I told her that I want to use my Spanish to do volunteer work when I go back home - probably in a hospital where I can help patients who don't speak English. She said, "I hear volunteering is really common in the US. That's not a tradition in Argentina at all. You know, they say Americans are so cold but on the personal level they can be so kind."
As the crisis reached its peak in 2001, bank accounts were frozen to prevent a run on the banks; a new currency, the Argentino, was introduced in an effort to combat inflation; and stores were looted as people reached a point of desperation. With its advocacy for neoliberal policies and its leadership at the IMF, the US was viewed as a major player in causing this crisis. It appeared we had pushed neoliberalism on Argentina and then stood by as a society imploded.
In the US, we have a remarkably efficient society that can also be viewed as ruthlessly efficient and cold. I think this perception has in some instances impacted how people received me here. I wasn't included because people assumed that knowing them simply wasn't that important to me. During lunch with my co-worker, I finally got up the nerve to ask her why my companeros hadn't reach out to me more. She said, "oh we figured you were just here to study Spanish and that was your focus." Well - yes - but that didn't rule out wanting to make friends too.
In my new job with Latin America, I've encountered remarkably little anti-American sentiment, but I think this more subtle undercurrent is probably often there, invisible but real. To some extent, it's a logical reaction to the history of the region and the role developed economies have played here. Now that I know the attitude is there, I hope to work against it with my own personal diplomacy. In a goodbye note I sent to my co-workers here, I said "En Buenos Aires, he tenido una gran oportunidad de mejorar mi español, pero las personas son siempre más importante que un idioma" (In Buenos Aires, I've had a great opportunity to improve my Spanish, but people are always more important than a language). I hope this is the beginning of a better understanding between us all.
Monday, June 13, 2011
Buenos Aires, looking up...
Buenos Aires is a city where you have to remember to look UP. There are so many fantastical towers, statues, and carvings to see. Like these guys keeping the time...
This is my favorite building...
A different view of my favorite building. There are Patagonian penguins standing on iceflows at some of the corners...
And another view of my favorite building - can you see the giant winged creatures hanging over the edge of the building? There are 3 in this picture...
Changing gears - here is maybe a former eyeglasses shop?
Today, this is a store in a trendy neighborhood. When I looked up, I realized it used to be a stables...
Near my Spanish school...(the Ministry of the Navy building)...
This was an ironworks in the 1800s...
General Belgrano, presiding over a beautiful day...
This is my favorite building...
Close-ups of the Statues...
A different view of my favorite building. There are Patagonian penguins standing on iceflows at some of the corners...
And another view of my favorite building - can you see the giant winged creatures hanging over the edge of the building? There are 3 in this picture...
Changing gears - here is maybe a former eyeglasses shop?
This was an ironworks in the 1800s...
Revisiting the Teatro Colon
After I saw the Magic Flute at the Teatro Colon, I returned another day and took a tour. Now I'm armed with more information..
In the picture below, look at what appears to be a series of black metal screens: these are the boxes that used to be reserved for widows, since it was considered socially inappropriate for them to appear in public during their mourning period...
This is a picture looking straight up at the ceiling. When the theater was constructed, they built a "heaven" here; that is a sort of catwalk where singers can stand above the audience and sing so that their voices come from on high like angels or heavenly hosts. In this picture, the 'heaven' is the gold rim immediate surrounding the central light. I remember hearing this heavenly effect in the performance I attended, immediately followed by the sound of heavy tramping footsteps in the ceiling over my head! Either these angels were pretty clumsy or sound travels in unintended ways!
It's just so lovely...
In the picture below, look at what appears to be a series of black metal screens: these are the boxes that used to be reserved for widows, since it was considered socially inappropriate for them to appear in public during their mourning period...
This is a picture looking straight up at the ceiling. When the theater was constructed, they built a "heaven" here; that is a sort of catwalk where singers can stand above the audience and sing so that their voices come from on high like angels or heavenly hosts. In this picture, the 'heaven' is the gold rim immediate surrounding the central light. I remember hearing this heavenly effect in the performance I attended, immediately followed by the sound of heavy tramping footsteps in the ceiling over my head! Either these angels were pretty clumsy or sound travels in unintended ways!
It's just so lovely...
Saturday, June 11, 2011
Fun Fact
In Argentinian slang, "che" basically means "dude;" it's a term that gets liberally sprinkled through most conversations. When someone wants to parody Argentinian Spanish, they use flamboyant hand gestures and an emphatic "THAT's a SPICY a-MEATball" style of speech. They also throw in the word "che" alot.
So - a fun fact - the historical person Che Guevara was from Argentina, and of course "Che" wasn't his real name - Ernesto was. When we refer to him as Che, we are basically calling him Dude (his nickname). How it possible that I didn't know this before?!
So - a fun fact - the historical person Che Guevara was from Argentina, and of course "Che" wasn't his real name - Ernesto was. When we refer to him as Che, we are basically calling him Dude (his nickname). How it possible that I didn't know this before?!
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