Looking For a New Rhythm
“I have to start looking for a new rhythm” – Henri Nouwen, Gracias!
Although taken out of context, the above quote accurately describes my journey throughout this month. I have had to start looking for a new rhythm in food, conversation, and schedule. I have found this search for a new rhythm challenging, exciting, tiring, eye-opening, filling (literally filling my stomach with food!), joyful, and fun!
Food
Seeing as walking through grocery stores is one of my favorite things, and with thanksgiving approaching, I will start off with food. Argentines like to eat and find any excuse to get together with friends for a fiesta.
Asado. The majority of fiestas begin with a traditional Argentine asado. I have had the opportunity to go to various asados throughout the last 2 months with the Foresti family. An asado is a little bit like what we would consider a barbeque in the US. Various cuts of meat are bought from a carniceria (a butcher shop often with various parts of a cow hanging in the window) and prepared to be cooked on the parilla. A parilla is a large grill which often looks like a large fireplace built in the yard. The meat is cooked for about 2 hours and when the asado is ready, family and friends often sit at a long table equipped with steak knives, wine, salad, and bread. Asados are as much about socializing as they are about eating and usually go well into the afternoon and evening before coming to a close!
Dulces. Argentines love their sweets and I recently read that the country of Argentina consumes the most sweets per capita than any other country in the world. One of the most popular dulces consumed is the alflajor , two soft sugar cookies held together by dulce de leche, chocolate, or fresh jam. Alflajores are sold everywhere and anywhere from top restaurants to trains and buses. Cookies are also a staple at any event, trip, class, afternoon tea, breakfast, or midnight snack. Most grocery stores have a whole isle dedicated to cookies and if you are invited into a house for coffee, tea, or mate, you will most likely be offered and encouraged to eat your fair share of cookies. Helado, or ice cream is also a widely-enjoyed treat year-round. I have yet to walk more than three blocks without passing a heladeria and be tempted by the numerous flavors of home-made ice cream. Yum.
Mate. Mate is one of my favorite traditions of Argentine culture. Mate is more than just a drink, it is a cultural ritual that is shared among family, friends, coworkers, and strangers. Yerba mate is a herb grown in the northern region of Argentina and is widely consumed in Argentina, Uruguay, and Paraguay. To drink mate, the cebador (server) fills a hollowed-out gourd with yerba and then fills the gord with hot water. The mate is then passed clockwise around the room and drinkers drink the yerba through a bombilla, a silver straw with a filter at the bottom to prevent the yerba from entering the tube. The mate is passed back to the server after each drink and is refilled with water for the next person. Argentines consume on average of 5kg of mate each year and are, for lack of a better word, mate-fanatics. In my daily activities I see people drinking mate on buses and trains, in cars and parks, and when walking down the street with friends. The majority of argentines own atleast one thermos and mate gourd and it is very common to see people walking down the street with their thermos tucked under their arm. I am often struck at what a beautiful expression of community I see in the ritual of drinking mate.
Conversation
Besos. The first day I spent at the community center, around 30 students from a neighboring school came to help re organize the library. When they arrived they walked in single file and greeted me (before even knowing my name) with a kiss on the cheek. Instead of shaking hands when meeting or greeting, argentines kiss each other on the right cheek when entering or leaving a room. Family members and friends (both male and female) are also very affectionate in their everyday interactions.
Te Sirvo?. The hospitality I experience each day here continues to humble and amaze me; and is something concrete that I hope I can continue when I return home. From my experience, the majority of households, businesses, and community spaces are ready and expectant to receive visitors. There is also coffee and tea on supply as well as some type of cookie or snack. Visitors (announced or unannounced) are usually warmly welcomed and offered something to drink and eat as well as time for conversation. One thing I have had to get used to is offering to serve others, te sirvo? , before I refill my glass or plate. After a weekend of unexpected visitors I now realize how important it is to be prepared to openly welcome people into your home at any time (i.e. Keep the kitchen, dining area, and bathroom CLEAN!).
Personal Space. The idea of “personal bubble” does not exist in Argentina and I have quickly gotten used to that bubble being popped. When waiting in line, you should be touching the person in front of you to keep your spot. When getting on the bus you should not only be touching the person in front of you, but also gently encouraging them to continue moving forward to the last person to get on is not hanging out of the door.
Schedule
Comida. The hours that people eat are quite different from those in the US and have taken some getting used to. Desayuno or breakfast usually consists of a cup of coffee and some cookies or crackers and is eaten at similar hours to the US. Almuerzo , or lunch is eaten around 1 or 2pm and is usually the largest meal of the day. Depending on the context, lunch can go on for various hours as Argentines enjoy conversing around the table. Cena, or dinner is what has taken some getting used to. Dinner usually is not served until 8pm or later. There have been nights where we begin to eat at 11:30 and don’t finish until 1am.
Siesta. When I first arrived in Jose C. Paz, I asked about when the safest times to be walking alone and was told I should try to stay off of the streets between 1 and 5pm. At first I thought this was crazy-why would I need to be inside in the middle of the day? I quickly found out that in this area of the Provincia, the majority of stores close from about 1 to 5pm, leaving the streets empty of pedestrians and store-keepers. The only thing I have had to adjust for the hours of siesta is when I do my grocery shopping!
Fiesta. My first weekend in Jose C. Paz, I went to a birthday party with Omar and his family for a girl who was turning 15. We left when the party was just getting going….around 4:30 am. I was surprised to see people from 2 years old to 70 or 80 on the dance floor at this hour and was even more surprised to find out that the birthday cake wasn’t served until around 6am. Argentines of all ages stay up late. Since my first weekend, I have been to many birthday parties in which the cake is not served until after midnight. On the weekdays when I am invited to eat dinner often we do not finish until 1am even though everyone has school and work in the morning. Maybe this is why Argentines drink so much coffee and mate!
Tuesday, November 17, 2009
Tuesday, November 10, 2009
Rayas de esperanza
Va a llover manana (It’s going to rain tomorrow)
“Everywhere there was the tendency to live, act, and think as if the real life is not here but there, not now but later. This tendency makes the formation of community so difficult, if not impossible. Community develops where we experience that something significant is taking place where we are. It is the fruit of the intimate knowledge that we are together, not because of a common need- such as to learn a language- but because we are called together to help make God’s presence visible in the world.”
Today we swept, washed, and swept some more the dirt, leaves, squished blackberries, that caked the sidewalk running from the dirt road, through the dirt field, to the community center. Last week there was a big storm and for a few days following the storm, the entrance to Providencia looked more like a muddy swamp than the dirt field that is used each Saturday for everything from soccer to dancing. When it rains, the only way to get to the building is by walking on this thin sidewalk…something that becomes essential when the only pair of shoes you own are the shoes on your feet . For this reason, the two of us spent about an hour spraying and scrubbing the dirt that had washed up to get it looking its best. Today it reached 100 degrees with 50% humidity and throughout this time outside I found myself wondering if this was really necessary, how much of a difference did it make if the side walk was clean or dirty. After the hour I took a minute to admire our work; the sidewalk was clean and despite my questioning throughout the processes, I found myself taking pride in our work and in the upkeep of the community center. Va a llover manana.
Yesterday I spent part of my morning at the hogar with Elena, one of the residents who has Alzheimer’s, and who I had come to know and love since my first day. When I walked into her room her face lit up and as we said hello with a hug and a kiss she asked me in English if we had met before. I told her that yes, we have, and in fact, usually we drink tea together each week. Elena and I sat looking out the window for about an hour. In our time spent together each day, Elena speaks to me in both English and Spanish, and her sentences are broken and often trail off after two or three words. I usually find myself quiet when I am with Elena, comforted by her hand in mine, as we both struggle to understand the foreign land that surrounds us. Va a llover manana.
On Wednesdays I go to Providencia to watch the kids of the women who participate in the women’s group. This past Wednesday the group celebrated mother’s day with a surprise Spa Day. I spent most of my time outside playing but whenever I walked inside I was struck by the transformed spirit of many of these women. The women walked into the center subdued and weighted down by their reality of poverty, violence, and oppression; however, an hour into the meeting there was lively chatter, genuine smiles, and a sense of dignity. Everyone got manicures, pedicures, haircuts, and facials while they enjoyed cake and soda. Women who I had come to know as sad, subdued, and overwhelmed seemed to come to life for maybe the first time since their meeting the previous week. Va a llover manana.
Va a llover manana. On Wednesday night after spending the whole afternoon at “Spa Providencia” Rosy and I shared a bottle of wine and bread outside on the patio between our two houses and reflected on the afternoon. Rosy works with three different community projects throughout the area focusing on either women, domestic violence, or both. She shared with me that sometimes she comes home exhausted and defeated after spending the day listening to women tell their stories, many of which are uglier than I had ever imagined. She shared with me that days like “Spa Providencia” are the “rays of hope” (rayas de esperanza) that keep her going. For one afternoon women of all walks came together and were cared for, planting the seed that we (all of the women present this afternoon) should be valued and should be treated with dignity as individuals with dreams, fears, needs, and capabilities. Yes, it is going to rain tomorrow, Elena isn’t going to remember who I am, the women of Providencia are going walk out of the community center into a reality where they are treated as discarded and forgotten individuals of society, and the mud and blackberries are yet again going to cover the clean sidewalk. BUT for one day, the sidewalk was clean, Elena and I didn’t feel so alone, and the women of Providencia came out of hiding to a shared space of dignity, value, laughter, conversation, and love. These rayas de esperanza are what help us rise in the morning and give us comfort as we prepare to go to bed each night.
“Everywhere there was the tendency to live, act, and think as if the real life is not here but there, not now but later. This tendency makes the formation of community so difficult, if not impossible. Community develops where we experience that something significant is taking place where we are. It is the fruit of the intimate knowledge that we are together, not because of a common need- such as to learn a language- but because we are called together to help make God’s presence visible in the world.”
Today we swept, washed, and swept some more the dirt, leaves, squished blackberries, that caked the sidewalk running from the dirt road, through the dirt field, to the community center. Last week there was a big storm and for a few days following the storm, the entrance to Providencia looked more like a muddy swamp than the dirt field that is used each Saturday for everything from soccer to dancing. When it rains, the only way to get to the building is by walking on this thin sidewalk…something that becomes essential when the only pair of shoes you own are the shoes on your feet . For this reason, the two of us spent about an hour spraying and scrubbing the dirt that had washed up to get it looking its best. Today it reached 100 degrees with 50% humidity and throughout this time outside I found myself wondering if this was really necessary, how much of a difference did it make if the side walk was clean or dirty. After the hour I took a minute to admire our work; the sidewalk was clean and despite my questioning throughout the processes, I found myself taking pride in our work and in the upkeep of the community center. Va a llover manana.
Yesterday I spent part of my morning at the hogar with Elena, one of the residents who has Alzheimer’s, and who I had come to know and love since my first day. When I walked into her room her face lit up and as we said hello with a hug and a kiss she asked me in English if we had met before. I told her that yes, we have, and in fact, usually we drink tea together each week. Elena and I sat looking out the window for about an hour. In our time spent together each day, Elena speaks to me in both English and Spanish, and her sentences are broken and often trail off after two or three words. I usually find myself quiet when I am with Elena, comforted by her hand in mine, as we both struggle to understand the foreign land that surrounds us. Va a llover manana.
On Wednesdays I go to Providencia to watch the kids of the women who participate in the women’s group. This past Wednesday the group celebrated mother’s day with a surprise Spa Day. I spent most of my time outside playing but whenever I walked inside I was struck by the transformed spirit of many of these women. The women walked into the center subdued and weighted down by their reality of poverty, violence, and oppression; however, an hour into the meeting there was lively chatter, genuine smiles, and a sense of dignity. Everyone got manicures, pedicures, haircuts, and facials while they enjoyed cake and soda. Women who I had come to know as sad, subdued, and overwhelmed seemed to come to life for maybe the first time since their meeting the previous week. Va a llover manana.
Va a llover manana. On Wednesday night after spending the whole afternoon at “Spa Providencia” Rosy and I shared a bottle of wine and bread outside on the patio between our two houses and reflected on the afternoon. Rosy works with three different community projects throughout the area focusing on either women, domestic violence, or both. She shared with me that sometimes she comes home exhausted and defeated after spending the day listening to women tell their stories, many of which are uglier than I had ever imagined. She shared with me that days like “Spa Providencia” are the “rays of hope” (rayas de esperanza) that keep her going. For one afternoon women of all walks came together and were cared for, planting the seed that we (all of the women present this afternoon) should be valued and should be treated with dignity as individuals with dreams, fears, needs, and capabilities. Yes, it is going to rain tomorrow, Elena isn’t going to remember who I am, the women of Providencia are going walk out of the community center into a reality where they are treated as discarded and forgotten individuals of society, and the mud and blackberries are yet again going to cover the clean sidewalk. BUT for one day, the sidewalk was clean, Elena and I didn’t feel so alone, and the women of Providencia came out of hiding to a shared space of dignity, value, laughter, conversation, and love. These rayas de esperanza are what help us rise in the morning and give us comfort as we prepare to go to bed each night.
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