A Little Taste

I've just returned from a long weekend in Mexico, and it's given me a brief window into what I can expect once I leave the States this summer. Granted, a weekend trip is much different than spending weeks or months: the entire atmosphere is rarified and dreamlike as compared to the concrete frustrations and undulations of day-to-day life in an unfamiliar place. The first and most glaring lesson is that I MUST LEARN SPANISH. Now, this statement is both painfully obvious and much easier said than done. I know that when I get to Venezuela this summer, the immersion will lead first to facility and eventually fluency, after much time and much hard work. But I feel that I need the academic underpinnings of grammar and conversation before I try to navigate the multivalent slang and accents I'll find in country. I know that I am a visual learner, and remember new words best once I have seen and spelled them, so I will enroll this week in a local adult education course in Spanish 2. Two hours, one night a week for ten weeks. It's not ideal (I'd prefer 2 hours FIVE times a week until I can order food or ask for directions, then UNDERSTAND those directions), but it's a start.

The other thing I have to get used to is NOT blending in. At all. In my previous travels around the States and in Europe, the merging subtlety of my gringa features and admittedly Eurotrash fashion sense have permitted a certain amount of anonymity. This is so much the case that I have been stopped on the streets of London, Paris, Dublin, and Rome by individuals seeking directions from me. The wash of mild horror when I open my mouth and they realized they've just asked an American is priceless.

But down south, I do not blend in. Even if perfect Spanish could roll across my lips, I'm still a gringa: pale skin, pointy nose, green eyes, wrong clothes, "blonde" hair, etc. (PS. I'm so NOT blonde, but I wish I had a peso for every time someone called me "blonde" when I was in Mexico). And when AK and I talk about our "gringa pride" I forget that I WILL be a minority, and that there will be certain things about me that are betrayed and assumed simply from the first sight of me. Of course, this is part of the reason for making this move, but I feel a certain vulnerability about it and I want to be prepared. So, since I won't ever be able to change looking like a gringa, or BEING a gringa for that matter, I want to be armed with a functional knowledge of conversation and conjugation before getting thrown in altogether.

However, my trip this past weekend did not just illuminate all of my shortcomings and the challenges I will face. It also reminded me of the richness and excitement of going to Latin America. At times I felt like a baby: vulnerable and a little overwhelmed, but postively intoxicated with the newness of it all, and of learning learning learning.