It was difficult not to make judgements in the first few days when everything was new and the differences leap out– especially ones which make you feel uncomfortable or unsafe or where you want to say, “You know, if you did this…..” or, “Why don’t people…….?” or “Why don’t the police……? “ or “Why do the police….?” or, (my personal favourite) “Are they allowed to do that…?” After the initial shock (just as well AFS gave us a few pages of information on how to recognise and be aware of the realities and implications of culture shock) everything starts to seem normal and the reasons for things being the way they are start to unfold.
Sister Lynn had a similar experience returning to NZ from the West Australian outback for the Easter holidays. She said that she was really surprised to notice so many trees in the suburbs, so close to houses, while driving to the North Shore… and her instant reaction was, “How dangerous would that be in a bush fire!” But we don’t have bush fires that wipe out towns in Auckland.
On the tour, there were several times when the young boy born in Paris, the young woman from Venezuela and I had a different price to pay for venues or needed something extra on our visas at the borders. For example, Argentine nationals had to pay only $20 (pesos) to get into one National Park, when the “extranjeros” (foreigners) had to pay $60 (pesos). I think I got into one venue as a National but Claudio, the tour guide, said that I shouldn’t talk because I would definitely sound like an extranjero. At least, that’s what I think he said because I never understood a word he said before or after. [Important advice to anyone who ever has to speak to someone with marginal acquisition of your language…. Clear enunciation is everything!] I decided that “extraterrestre” (extraterrestrial) was a much better sounding word so that is what I called myself from then on.
Our first stop, once through the border, was at a huge bus-tour-group dining room which accommodated several colectivos (double-decker buses). Because people eat a full sit-down meal in the middle of the day, there was an enormous buffet for $25 (pesos) each. I only felt like a sandwich or a bread roll and wasn’t going to pay that much for a nibble (I know, some of you can’t believe my non-appetite in Argentina, or, in this case, in Brazil) so I joined Susana and her family for a piece of pizza down the road. The next day, the bus stopped at a different location with no other eating option nearby. Again, I could not face a full meal ( yup… believe it!) and asked the manager, in my most polite Castellano, if I could just pay for a bread bun and a drink because I could not eat a big meal while travelling. He said no, I had to buy the full meal, they did not sell items separately.
I said, “OK, how about I buy a $10 drink and you give me a complimentary bread roll.”
“No” …..
“So, you are telling me I have to pay $25 for a bread bun, and then pay extra for a drink? ¨
“ Si.”
Reminding myself that I was an “extraterrestre” making observations, and not a NZer expecting to demand or comment on good customer relations, I stalked off to sit at a table with a group of others. I had to stay inside as I would have been desiccated in about 15 minutes in the heat outside, and took smug satisfaction in the knowledge that I was using his air conditioning without payment. I would not buy a drink and politely turned down offers of bread from other people, trying to explain the meaning of the word, “martyr” in broken Castellano. This was best done by trying to mime Joan of Arc with words like “fuego” (fire) and “muerto” (dead) and “creo” (I believe). I have since learned that using the word “mártir” would have been a lot more efficient and taken up a lot less table space. I kept thinking, ¨This would never happen in Argentina!¨ because I have had unfailing pleasantness, helpfulness and generosity above and beyond the call of duty in Argentina. At the next stop I bought a bottle of water and a small packet of peanuts which sufficed… although I did get a bit concerned when my malaria tablet bottle top came off in the same plastic snap-bag as my peanuts.
A random comment here, while I think about it, about movies. We had 4 DVDs all up on the tour. During the middle of the night on the way to Iguacu, there was some killer-thriller movie that Mark would have loved and I usually would avoid- but there was no escape. It is a lot easier to watch a violent film when the sound track, although in English, is turned down so much that you get no clues to assist comprehension and you have to rely solely upon what you see and can read at speed in Spanish. I didn’t catch the name of it ( I have since discovered it was "Transporter III") but it had a guy who had some wrist band on that would explode and kill him if he did the wrong thing, and some girl who had to take a car somewhere. Lots of people died suddenly and gruesomely along the way and the hero got to survive underwater for a long time by breathing escaping air from his car tyre, and there was a train involved. I’m sure someone will know it. We also had “Wild Hogs” with no subtitles but dubbed in Spanish. John Travolta and Tim Allen just aren’t the same without their own voices – but the visual gags were easy enough to understand. Then there was one called “Eagle Eye” with subtitles, which I slept through, and then “The something or other of Benjamin Button” which was in audible English with Spanish subtitles… it was quite a delightful but wacky movie and I picked up a fair bit of Spanish vocab along the way … but fell asleep before the end.
A random comment here, while I think about it, about movies. We had 4 DVDs all up on the tour. During the middle of the night on the way to Iguacu, there was some killer-thriller movie that Mark would have loved and I usually would avoid- but there was no escape. It is a lot easier to watch a violent film when the sound track, although in English, is turned down so much that you get no clues to assist comprehension and you have to rely solely upon what you see and can read at speed in Spanish. I didn’t catch the name of it ( I have since discovered it was "Transporter III") but it had a guy who had some wrist band on that would explode and kill him if he did the wrong thing, and some girl who had to take a car somewhere. Lots of people died suddenly and gruesomely along the way and the hero got to survive underwater for a long time by breathing escaping air from his car tyre, and there was a train involved. I’m sure someone will know it. We also had “Wild Hogs” with no subtitles but dubbed in Spanish. John Travolta and Tim Allen just aren’t the same without their own voices – but the visual gags were easy enough to understand. Then there was one called “Eagle Eye” with subtitles, which I slept through, and then “The something or other of Benjamin Button” which was in audible English with Spanish subtitles… it was quite a delightful but wacky movie and I picked up a fair bit of Spanish vocab along the way … but fell asleep before the end.
Random photo of street stalls at Puerto Iguacu at night. Close Encounters of the Third Kind:
My mejor-amiga-since-we-were-born, Vivienne, spent a month in Puerto Iguacu in 2007 on the same AFS programme as I am on now. She stayed with a teacher called Monica in her bedsit and shared her life, very closely, for the entire month. When Viv found out I was going to Iguacu, she tried to arrange a meeting between Monica and me. So, a few emails went three ways (Monica does not speak English). At the last minute, I found out that the tour was staying in the Brazil side of the falls so it looked like it was going to be a case of “So Near Yet So Far”.
On the Saturday night of our trip, we had the option of going back across the border to Puerto Iguacu to go to the Casino. I got my delightful travelling companion/lifesaver/translator, Ana Laura, to use my cell phone to call Monica to arrange a meeting and it looked like it was going to all go ahead. But, the times had only been approximate and then the tour guide told us that we could go shopping in Iguacu first. Aarrrgh!!! I established a new e.t.a. for the Casino, and got Ana Laura to ring Monica for me – she said she was already at the Casino waiting and it was at this point that we realised there were two casinos and Monica was at the other one. She would head off and try to get to the one we were going to be at… except the group was going to stay a bit longer shopping. Aaaarh! We couldn’t contact Monica so Ana Laura, (Bless her) said, "Let’s walk to the Casino and get there before the bus group…. " We let people know what we were doing and headed off in the general direction, along mostly well-lit and well-peopled streets. Ana Laura asked directions a few times and eventually, after me stumbling over (it had to happen at least once in the story) on very uneven paving, and grazing my knee but, gotta love Caroline Eve trousers… no rips or tears to the clothing!
We ended up at the beautiful Sheraton hotel whereupon I bought us each a large and soooo refreshing Caipirinia while we waited… and waited… and waited. We couldn’t get hold of Monica by phone, the bus tour arrived and went into the Casino. I gave my $10 peso voucher to Ana Laura to use as I’m just hopeless in casinos and I was still keeping an eye out for Monica.
Just like a movie, when you think things aren’t going to happen before the time runs out…. and just as everyone was getting back on the bus, Monica roared up in a little red car and we just knew who each other was. So there we were, in the front of the very grand Sheraton Hotel, with the car parked in front and the door left open, hugging and crying and me talking in English, Monica in Spanish and Ana-Laura taking photos and translating, in the semi dark, while the bus is revving and getting ready to go. It was truly a very strange moment where two people who have never met before are in tears on the other side of the world because we both know Vivienne back in NZ. Gifts were exchanged - Viv had given me a US$5 note to spend on something special while I was here, and I had intended to buy Monica a drink but there was absolutely no time. Try to imagine the culturally sensitive tight-rope I had to walk to try and explain in gestures and a few words, in a few seconds, to someone who would not let Viv pay for anything during her entire month, that if Viv or I couldn´t be there to have a coffee or drink with her, then would she please take her friends out and have a drink on our behalf and tell the story about this evening... I think she understood in the end but it was definitely a moment of cultural negotiation over who would be offended the most if the $US5 was accepted or not. More hugs and then we had to get back on the bus. The whole episode was less than five minutes… but at least it happened and it was madcap crazy and ultimately successful and will remain a very special memory. ¡¡
On the Saturday night of our trip, we had the option of going back across the border to Puerto Iguacu to go to the Casino. I got my delightful travelling companion/lifesaver/translator, Ana Laura, to use my cell phone to call Monica to arrange a meeting and it looked like it was going to all go ahead. But, the times had only been approximate and then the tour guide told us that we could go shopping in Iguacu first. Aarrrgh!!! I established a new e.t.a. for the Casino, and got Ana Laura to ring Monica for me – she said she was already at the Casino waiting and it was at this point that we realised there were two casinos and Monica was at the other one. She would head off and try to get to the one we were going to be at… except the group was going to stay a bit longer shopping. Aaaarh! We couldn’t contact Monica so Ana Laura, (Bless her) said, "Let’s walk to the Casino and get there before the bus group…. " We let people know what we were doing and headed off in the general direction, along mostly well-lit and well-peopled streets. Ana Laura asked directions a few times and eventually, after me stumbling over (it had to happen at least once in the story) on very uneven paving, and grazing my knee but, gotta love Caroline Eve trousers… no rips or tears to the clothing!
We ended up at the beautiful Sheraton hotel whereupon I bought us each a large and soooo refreshing Caipirinia while we waited… and waited… and waited. We couldn’t get hold of Monica by phone, the bus tour arrived and went into the Casino. I gave my $10 peso voucher to Ana Laura to use as I’m just hopeless in casinos and I was still keeping an eye out for Monica.
Just like a movie, when you think things aren’t going to happen before the time runs out…. and just as everyone was getting back on the bus, Monica roared up in a little red car and we just knew who each other was. So there we were, in the front of the very grand Sheraton Hotel, with the car parked in front and the door left open, hugging and crying and me talking in English, Monica in Spanish and Ana-Laura taking photos and translating, in the semi dark, while the bus is revving and getting ready to go. It was truly a very strange moment where two people who have never met before are in tears on the other side of the world because we both know Vivienne back in NZ. Gifts were exchanged - Viv had given me a US$5 note to spend on something special while I was here, and I had intended to buy Monica a drink but there was absolutely no time. Try to imagine the culturally sensitive tight-rope I had to walk to try and explain in gestures and a few words, in a few seconds, to someone who would not let Viv pay for anything during her entire month, that if Viv or I couldn´t be there to have a coffee or drink with her, then would she please take her friends out and have a drink on our behalf and tell the story about this evening... I think she understood in the end but it was definitely a moment of cultural negotiation over who would be offended the most if the $US5 was accepted or not. More hugs and then we had to get back on the bus. The whole episode was less than five minutes… but at least it happened and it was madcap crazy and ultimately successful and will remain a very special memory. ¡¡
¡Hóla, Viv! Highway Robbery:
I have told several people in Argentina about the following incident and some who knew I was writing a blog said, “Don’t write about that because it makes us look bad.” Which in itself seems to me to be the essence of the Argentine people (that I have met so far). They love their country and are very proud of its culture, its natural features and their own personal stories of their families´ origins. But there is (trying to think of the right words here) a dissatisfaction, sadness, possibly an embarrassment and a resignation that this is just the way things have been, are now and probably will be and that change will happen slowly.
Anyway, we stopped at the Argentine border, returning on Sunday, and Claudio-the-tour-guide sorts out all the passports, visa etc at the border office. We had had no problems crossing the border two previous times for excursions. This time, someone in control at the border said to our guide that if each of us paid $4.00 (pesos) we could go through with out having our bus checked. Otherwise, we would all have to get out and every bag would be checked- taking Lord knows how much time. I could not believe this!
A fellow passenger collected all the money and everyone kind of shrugged their shoulders and said, “This is Argentina.” I was naively and thoroughly astounded and asked dumb questions like, “But won’t someone tell the police?” and “What if everyone called their bluff and every bus said, Go ahead, check us! There’d be buses backed up for miles….” and generally being gob-smacked and uncomprehending of what had just happened. The money was collected (I paid up, of course…. I don’t do political martyrdom and I had to remember that I’m just an extraterrestre) and we went merrily on our way.
After it was all over, I thought it was quite funny and tried to explain in broken Castellano that I have spent a lot more money in the past on legitimate transactions and had a lot less entertainment. So, as a cultural and learning experience, it was probably the best value for money I have had here.
Photos of San Ignacio, Misiones. I tried to find a Wikipedia link but the page is in Spanish only. See what you can find youself because I missed the really good touristy photo shots. This is a fabulous place and I would have loved to stay here longer. The story behind it is fascinating and I need to read a bit more about it as I couldn´t understand too much of what the tour guide said. There is a brilliant display museum and I find my ability to read and understand Spanish, at my own speed, is far greater than my ability to listen to it.
This is the lovely Ana Laura who helped me in so many ways. If it wasn´t for her, I would never have been able to catch up with Monica for Viv. On the other side of the world from NZ, someone I have only met two days before, goes out of their way to help me meet someone else I have never met before. Now THAT´S international relations!
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