arriving in Linares

2/5/2010: I have already been in Linares for three weeks; it feels like home as I greet neighbors, meet up with friends, and walk through my daily routine- where has the time gone? After splitting with my parents in Pucon I arrived in Linares feeling excited for the unknown and wondering what this new home and internship would be like. I’ve traveled a lot and normally I enjoy taking adventures alone and delving into a completely foreign environment, but for some reason on this day I was feeling vulnerable and attached to the comfort of traveling with my parents. I had to transfer buses in an nondescript town in order to get to Linares. Standing at the ticket window was a somber looking man who refused to smile. I asked him how much the bus was to Linares and where I needed to catch it and he responded in what sounded to me like a jumble of incoherent words, which slid unnoticed through his closed mouth. I asked if he could repeat what he said and please say it more slowing, and he repeated just as fast and this time looking annoyed. After asking around and only getting curious-stares as if asking, who is this foreigner? and fingers that pointed in the direction of his ticket window, I returned, I failed, and I started to cry. I was shocked at first at how easily the tears came. Sometimes, for no real reason, if enough time has elapsed without releasing these power drops, something small will trigger my emotionally side, and there they come, like a tsunami. My core felt unsettled and I didn’t feel strong, the cold temper of this one man had infected me. How strange, how unfair I thought. After sitting down, I took a few deep breaths, telling myself this was part of travel, this was part of speaking a different language. Within minutes a women was helping me get the directions, speaking in a soft and understandable Spanish, she sighed when I told her about the unhelpful man, and she said, “Yes, unfortunately there are people like this everywhere in the world, but luckily they’re the minority.” Thank you, I said. Energy is a powerful thing, especially when you’re speaking a language that isn’t native because you rely on body language and perceptions to give you feedback when words fail. Simple circumstances like this teach me that my actions, my tone, my energy, affect people in ways that I am not aware of. It made me think about his circumstances of which I didn’t know, and I dwelled on the possibility of being him in situations that I wasn’t even aware of. Did he know that I felt like I was shrinking as his hand gestures and words flashed in front of me, if he knew would he have been more patient or cared, does it matter? All I know is that if one person has bad energy, a cycle begins, and it’s incredible how quick the mood changes and how fast communication barriers build. Last week I listened to a paramount speech given by Obama; his Q & A time with the Conservative House. His underlying message was about tone, being careful with rhetoric, and getting problems solved in a healthy debate rather than attacking one another and pointing fingers. I was impressed, like usual, by Obama’s insight; the truth he was speaking was so simple yet so difficult for the collective human, or American politics, to put into everyday action. Why is there a need to attack others to boost the confidence or support of oneself? On a side note of language, this experience, and numerous others down here in South America, where the vernacular Spanish is unfamiliar to me and laden with slang, has heightened my recognition and appreciation of people who have difficulty learning English in the United States. The mental demand and inner discipline that is required to learn a new language is hard to understand until you’re living it.