So, after the somewhat heavier content of the past few entries, I decided that a little breath of fresh spring air might be in order. The seasons just officially changed here in Uruguay, so to celebrate, how about something about the good times?
Not surprisingly, utter ridiculousness stalks my life just as much here as it did in the US and in Ghana. This, of course, is not the bad sort of ridiculousness - lack of meaning, irrational pain, and suchforth. No, this is just the sort of ridiculousness that leaves you laughing while also scratching your head, wondering how it is that God brought you to Point B from Point A when none of the signs seemed to point in this direction.
Take work and life at La Obra, for example. I am a 22 year old Texan, well-educated in the liberal arts, graduate of a private university, headed to seminary, hoping to continue on in biblical studies toward a Ph.D. (maybe even from an Ivy League, if they´ll have me), and I spend half of my work time operating a see-saw, imitating an ape, and breaking up the occasional fight between testy 8 year olds. It is gloriously nonsensical - an academic by nature finding ways to do the least academic things possible, and I LOVE it.
I love how nothing I learned in class has prepared me for working with these kids. There´s not one complex theological doctrine, not one historical reality, that´s taught me how to do this. Not even all my years of Spanish class helped me feel ready. I´ve never sat in a classroom and heard how to calm down two angry 2nd graders who want to tear into each other over a soccer ball, or how to smile at all of them when they come in after school, or how to to tell when this one´s had a bad day (or week or month or year or life) and when that one´s brimming over with excitement and happiness.
I remember, a year or two ago, talking in class about the passage in the Gospels where Jesus tells the disciples that they must become like little children to enter the Kingdom of Heaven. The conversation quickly turned to power dimensions and political realities, the radicalness of the Kingdom of God´s ways in the face of the Kingdom of Caesar. This conversation is worthwhile, and it is one that should be had, and I daresay one that should lead to action. However, I can´t help but wonder if there´s not some even simpler truth in it. Maybe what God wants, what God would really have us do, is take delight in the simple things that have been created here for us - a beautiful sunny day, the ability to interact with other people, a simple meal at the end of the afternoon. Maybe what God wants is for us to learn how to be content sometimes with the good surface rather than always dig for hidden, often dismal, meaning. Maybe what God wants is the sort of honesty that punches a friend over a soccer ball, then feels genuinely sorry about it, apologizes, and goes back to playing - all within the space of five minutes. Maybe that´s what becoming like a little child is like.
Monday, September 24, 2007
Monday, September 17, 2007
The other side of the story
In one of my previous entries, I talked about how beautiful Montevideo is - the beaches, the palm trees, and so on. And, it´s true. Montevideo, or at least parts of it, are glorious. However, that´s only half of the story.
After the economic crisis of 2001-2002, roughly 1/3 of Uruguayans were living below the poverty line. Economic recovery over the past few years has slimmed that number to about 1/4, but that´s still a huge segment of the national population. La Obra, where I work, is in one of the neighborhoods which reflects this economic reality. I live on the edge of the downtown area; La Obra is another 30-40 minutes on the bus past me. It´s a different world from Las Ramblas and Plaza Independencia out there. The European charm of the city center is far from here, as are many basic public services. It is a cash-poor neighborhood where people struggle to get by, and it´s marked by many of the problems that (sadly) we tend to identify with poverty - domestic violence, unsanitary living conditions, low levels of general education.
Some of the problems are logistical - take education, for example. It is an enormous challenge for a young person in the barrio to get their high school education, even though school itself is free. What isn´t free, however, is transportation to the nearest liceo, which is on my way out to the barrio, some 25-30 minutes from La Obra. That bus ride costs money that a lot of people simply can´t spare. The city, also, has more-or-less decided that "those people" in the barrio are just going to live in the squalor of the poor anyway, so markedly less effort has been made to promote recycling, and there are fewer public trash receptacles.
However, some of the issues are spiritual, and that´s where La Obra comes in. La Obra´s programs help provide support for students trying to succeed in their schooling, a safe, welcoming place for young people and kids where they can learn life and job skills and be guaranteed at least one nutritious (and tasty) hot meal a day, and where women in the community can come and be supported in the struggles they face in their homes and in society.
There is a lot of darkness in the barrios of Montevideo, but there are lights in the midst of that darkness, piercing through the haze to provide answers to questions, love instead of hate, and peace in the midst of turmoil. It´s not easy, but it has to be done if these two cities of Montevideo - the beauty and the mess - are to become one community.
After the economic crisis of 2001-2002, roughly 1/3 of Uruguayans were living below the poverty line. Economic recovery over the past few years has slimmed that number to about 1/4, but that´s still a huge segment of the national population. La Obra, where I work, is in one of the neighborhoods which reflects this economic reality. I live on the edge of the downtown area; La Obra is another 30-40 minutes on the bus past me. It´s a different world from Las Ramblas and Plaza Independencia out there. The European charm of the city center is far from here, as are many basic public services. It is a cash-poor neighborhood where people struggle to get by, and it´s marked by many of the problems that (sadly) we tend to identify with poverty - domestic violence, unsanitary living conditions, low levels of general education.
Some of the problems are logistical - take education, for example. It is an enormous challenge for a young person in the barrio to get their high school education, even though school itself is free. What isn´t free, however, is transportation to the nearest liceo, which is on my way out to the barrio, some 25-30 minutes from La Obra. That bus ride costs money that a lot of people simply can´t spare. The city, also, has more-or-less decided that "those people" in the barrio are just going to live in the squalor of the poor anyway, so markedly less effort has been made to promote recycling, and there are fewer public trash receptacles.
However, some of the issues are spiritual, and that´s where La Obra comes in. La Obra´s programs help provide support for students trying to succeed in their schooling, a safe, welcoming place for young people and kids where they can learn life and job skills and be guaranteed at least one nutritious (and tasty) hot meal a day, and where women in the community can come and be supported in the struggles they face in their homes and in society.
There is a lot of darkness in the barrios of Montevideo, but there are lights in the midst of that darkness, piercing through the haze to provide answers to questions, love instead of hate, and peace in the midst of turmoil. It´s not easy, but it has to be done if these two cities of Montevideo - the beauty and the mess - are to become one community.
Franklin´s Question of the Month!
So, back in the office in Chicago, there´s this guy named Franklin Ishida. He´s pretty cool, and for lack of a better title, I´ve labeled him "Monthly Newletter Guy" in my head. Every month, he sends us a question to ponder for your reading pleasure in our newsletters. So, without further ado, I bring you September´s Question of the Month Entry!
It probably won´t surprise any of you who know me that I did not get off the plane in Buenos Aires without baggage other than just my suitcase, backpack, and guitar. I also brought with me ideas and expectations, hopes and fears, and a certain sense of doubt and uneasiness. Moving to Ghana for a semester was difficult; it took me an awfully long way from home and left me a white American in black West Africa. However, I had well-defined purpose and structure - I went to class (well, kinda), and when time allowed, I traveled to lots of incredible destinations.
Here, however, I really didn´t know what I was getting into. This was partially furthered along by my last-minute placement change; I at least had a vague notion of what would be going on in Bariloche. Montevideo, however, was a totally new creature, one more unknown in a sea of unknowns. It really wasn´t until the day before I left to come here that I figured out where´d I´d be working, and it wasn´t until this past week that I got a schedule nailed down.
That´s not the way I normally roll with things. I like plans, schedules, and general order. I would make a GREAT Swiss citizen in that regard. However, that´s not the lot that I got handed this time around, and that´s OK. It´s a chance to grow, and that growth has already started. For better or worse, my schedule has a lot of breathing space in it. That´s been another concern of mine - how do I fill up the chilly Uruguayan nights and my two days off while still living simply and within my stipend? Some things just fell into my lap - the Waldensian church choir on Tuesdays and the Waldensian church´s young people´s gatherings on Thursdays. (Note: Pastora Wilma´s husband is the pastor at the Waldensian church, hence my being involved with their activities, too). Other things, too, are predictable for me - lots of reading, cooking dinner for myself whenever I can. Then, there are the surprises - playing guitar every day, playing chess with Martín, the philosophy student who lives in the church with us.
I feel a bit like I´m on Mount Moriah sometimes, desperately hoping that God will provide something for me before it´s too late. And, just when I start to think that maybe the sort of existential crises that are bred by boredom aren´t that scary, there´s a ram kicking about in the bushes. It was probably there all along, but I had to learn to how to see it first, to have open eyes to the table that God has set for me, and for all of us, in this world.
Now that I´ve sounded mopey, it´s worth saying that these thoughts, and the sense of uneasy restlessness that comes with them, are not an everyday thing, and they get weaker as my time begins to go on. I think the most defining moment of my time here so far came on my first Friday here. Every year, the neighborhood that´s home to La Obra holds an afternoon-long street fair for the kids of the neighborhood; every school and after-school program participates and makes games for the kids to play, there´s music, the little store on the block does great business, and in general, everyone has a blast. This year, the fair fell on a particularly warm day, the beginning of the little heat wave they just had here. It was a glorious day to be outside, but a warm one. I stood down at La Obra´s little game section for a while, and eventually decided to go get a bottle of water and sit in the shade for a while. As I was sitting on the sidewalk by the store, watching literal hundreds of kids go by, some laughing, some talking, all of them enjoying, I saw a few of our kids from La Obra walk past. They were clearly having a great time and, South American pop music blaring in the background, I had an epiphany. I realized that I was in the right place at the right time, that nobody else could be sitting on the sidewalk, drinking water, watching the kids from La Obra playing games and dancing in the street, but me; not because I´m something special in and of myself, but because it´s what God called me to do. Here´s hoping that moment is a sign for the year, a hope and a promise to cling to when maybe the days aren´t so sunny and filled with laughter.
It probably won´t surprise any of you who know me that I did not get off the plane in Buenos Aires without baggage other than just my suitcase, backpack, and guitar. I also brought with me ideas and expectations, hopes and fears, and a certain sense of doubt and uneasiness. Moving to Ghana for a semester was difficult; it took me an awfully long way from home and left me a white American in black West Africa. However, I had well-defined purpose and structure - I went to class (well, kinda), and when time allowed, I traveled to lots of incredible destinations.
Here, however, I really didn´t know what I was getting into. This was partially furthered along by my last-minute placement change; I at least had a vague notion of what would be going on in Bariloche. Montevideo, however, was a totally new creature, one more unknown in a sea of unknowns. It really wasn´t until the day before I left to come here that I figured out where´d I´d be working, and it wasn´t until this past week that I got a schedule nailed down.
That´s not the way I normally roll with things. I like plans, schedules, and general order. I would make a GREAT Swiss citizen in that regard. However, that´s not the lot that I got handed this time around, and that´s OK. It´s a chance to grow, and that growth has already started. For better or worse, my schedule has a lot of breathing space in it. That´s been another concern of mine - how do I fill up the chilly Uruguayan nights and my two days off while still living simply and within my stipend? Some things just fell into my lap - the Waldensian church choir on Tuesdays and the Waldensian church´s young people´s gatherings on Thursdays. (Note: Pastora Wilma´s husband is the pastor at the Waldensian church, hence my being involved with their activities, too). Other things, too, are predictable for me - lots of reading, cooking dinner for myself whenever I can. Then, there are the surprises - playing guitar every day, playing chess with Martín, the philosophy student who lives in the church with us.
I feel a bit like I´m on Mount Moriah sometimes, desperately hoping that God will provide something for me before it´s too late. And, just when I start to think that maybe the sort of existential crises that are bred by boredom aren´t that scary, there´s a ram kicking about in the bushes. It was probably there all along, but I had to learn to how to see it first, to have open eyes to the table that God has set for me, and for all of us, in this world.
Now that I´ve sounded mopey, it´s worth saying that these thoughts, and the sense of uneasy restlessness that comes with them, are not an everyday thing, and they get weaker as my time begins to go on. I think the most defining moment of my time here so far came on my first Friday here. Every year, the neighborhood that´s home to La Obra holds an afternoon-long street fair for the kids of the neighborhood; every school and after-school program participates and makes games for the kids to play, there´s music, the little store on the block does great business, and in general, everyone has a blast. This year, the fair fell on a particularly warm day, the beginning of the little heat wave they just had here. It was a glorious day to be outside, but a warm one. I stood down at La Obra´s little game section for a while, and eventually decided to go get a bottle of water and sit in the shade for a while. As I was sitting on the sidewalk by the store, watching literal hundreds of kids go by, some laughing, some talking, all of them enjoying, I saw a few of our kids from La Obra walk past. They were clearly having a great time and, South American pop music blaring in the background, I had an epiphany. I realized that I was in the right place at the right time, that nobody else could be sitting on the sidewalk, drinking water, watching the kids from La Obra playing games and dancing in the street, but me; not because I´m something special in and of myself, but because it´s what God called me to do. Here´s hoping that moment is a sign for the year, a hope and a promise to cling to when maybe the days aren´t so sunny and filled with laughter.
Monday, September 10, 2007
Heatwave
Put on the Martha and the Vandellas in the background, because it is WAY too hot for winter in Uruguay right now. Temps have been hitting 30+ for the past few days (86 or higher for you silly Fahrenheit people), and it is WINTER for two more weeks. All of the Uruguayans are as in shock as I am. Of course, having temps that high in "winter" isn´t exactly a new thing for me, either, hailing from Texas as I do.
The hottish weather has been good for exploring the city, though. Wilma and her husband, who is the pastor at the Waldensian church, took us on a driving tour of the city last night. Montevideo is absolutely stunning. The main part of the city is a sort-of crescent along the shores of the Rio de la Plata, with the old city on one end of it and lots of glitzy high-rises on the other. There are palm trees, green hills, and nice beaches - I personally find Montevideo to be a lot more appealing than Buenos Aires, it´s much bigger Argentine neighbor.
Size-wise, Montevideo is about 1.5-1.75 million, which makes it a reasonably large city, and also home to 50% or better of Uruguay´s population. Because of that, plus Uruguay being a very small economy and heavily economically dependent on its gigantic neighbors (Argentina and Brazil), the cost of living here is notably higher than in Buenos Aires. The groceries I spent about $15 on a few days ago might have cost $10 in Buenos Aires. Suffice it to say that budgeting wisely will be a key for this year. It´s still cheaper than the US, but it´s definitely not Ghana, land of the $1 humongous meal in the night market.
Beyond beginning to develop a feel for my home for the year, I´ve also been making lots of connections with people here. On Thursday night, the three of us living in the church went to the Waldensian church´s group for college age people, and I really enjoyed myself. A really large part of the group´s time together was spent singing. Sometimes, it was serious - "Dios está aquí" and so on. I think their singing of Cumbaya around three lit candles while we sat in a circle holding hands was serious as well, but predictably, I had some trouble keeping a straight face during that. After a while, though, the music turned to somewhat lighter fare - initially, it was to more upbeat praise songs (they made Kirsten and I come up with a couple of songs when it became very obvious that we didn´t know any of the ones they were singing), but eventually we started singing fun/silly ones, often involving gestures and the like. It was fun to be singing nonsensical songs in Spanish; I didn´t have to worry about trying to figure out their meaning. Plus, the group did a great job of making us feel included and a part of the evening; I´ll definitely be going back on Thursday nights.
Since I hinted at it, the language aspect of the past week has definitely been the most trying for me. I can deal with heat, and I like meeting new people. I also like Spanish. However, I´ve never had to really, truly function in español before, and it´s definitely a new, and often exhausting, experience. The funny thing is that what I figured would be my biggest problem (comprehension) has not been too tough; I´ve only had a few serious problems with understanding what´s being said to me, and I´d say that I probably catch about 75-80% without having to ask for a repeat of the phrase. It´s been the responding that´s been getting me. It´s hard to be asked a question, think of the answer in English, and then translate it into Spanish in an amount of time appropriate to a normal conversation. It´s starting to get better; I´ve been in full-time Spanish mode for about 2 weeks now, and it´s getting easier.
That said, it´s still not easy, and I´m looking forward to the day when markedly less effort is required to converse. On the plus side, people have been extremely patient and understanding, have complimented my Spanish (a shocker for me, since I definitely do NOT feel all that great about my Spanish right now), and in general just seem appreciative that I´m really trying. Both Wilma and Milton have been great about this; they give me plenty of time to answer questions, and when I can´t think of a word, or am struggling with the grammar, they very patiently help me out with suggested words and the like. Milton assured me that this first month will be the worst, and that things will improve drastically after that...vamos a ver.
Today is a big day - I´m working at La Obra this afternoon (not sure what I´ll be doing, but I´ll be doing something), and this evening, Wilma is meeting with Kirsten and I to begin sorting out schedules and trying to come up with tasks that fit our interests and skills. Now, off to go find some pre-work food - chau!
The hottish weather has been good for exploring the city, though. Wilma and her husband, who is the pastor at the Waldensian church, took us on a driving tour of the city last night. Montevideo is absolutely stunning. The main part of the city is a sort-of crescent along the shores of the Rio de la Plata, with the old city on one end of it and lots of glitzy high-rises on the other. There are palm trees, green hills, and nice beaches - I personally find Montevideo to be a lot more appealing than Buenos Aires, it´s much bigger Argentine neighbor.
Size-wise, Montevideo is about 1.5-1.75 million, which makes it a reasonably large city, and also home to 50% or better of Uruguay´s population. Because of that, plus Uruguay being a very small economy and heavily economically dependent on its gigantic neighbors (Argentina and Brazil), the cost of living here is notably higher than in Buenos Aires. The groceries I spent about $15 on a few days ago might have cost $10 in Buenos Aires. Suffice it to say that budgeting wisely will be a key for this year. It´s still cheaper than the US, but it´s definitely not Ghana, land of the $1 humongous meal in the night market.
Beyond beginning to develop a feel for my home for the year, I´ve also been making lots of connections with people here. On Thursday night, the three of us living in the church went to the Waldensian church´s group for college age people, and I really enjoyed myself. A really large part of the group´s time together was spent singing. Sometimes, it was serious - "Dios está aquí" and so on. I think their singing of Cumbaya around three lit candles while we sat in a circle holding hands was serious as well, but predictably, I had some trouble keeping a straight face during that. After a while, though, the music turned to somewhat lighter fare - initially, it was to more upbeat praise songs (they made Kirsten and I come up with a couple of songs when it became very obvious that we didn´t know any of the ones they were singing), but eventually we started singing fun/silly ones, often involving gestures and the like. It was fun to be singing nonsensical songs in Spanish; I didn´t have to worry about trying to figure out their meaning. Plus, the group did a great job of making us feel included and a part of the evening; I´ll definitely be going back on Thursday nights.
Since I hinted at it, the language aspect of the past week has definitely been the most trying for me. I can deal with heat, and I like meeting new people. I also like Spanish. However, I´ve never had to really, truly function in español before, and it´s definitely a new, and often exhausting, experience. The funny thing is that what I figured would be my biggest problem (comprehension) has not been too tough; I´ve only had a few serious problems with understanding what´s being said to me, and I´d say that I probably catch about 75-80% without having to ask for a repeat of the phrase. It´s been the responding that´s been getting me. It´s hard to be asked a question, think of the answer in English, and then translate it into Spanish in an amount of time appropriate to a normal conversation. It´s starting to get better; I´ve been in full-time Spanish mode for about 2 weeks now, and it´s getting easier.
That said, it´s still not easy, and I´m looking forward to the day when markedly less effort is required to converse. On the plus side, people have been extremely patient and understanding, have complimented my Spanish (a shocker for me, since I definitely do NOT feel all that great about my Spanish right now), and in general just seem appreciative that I´m really trying. Both Wilma and Milton have been great about this; they give me plenty of time to answer questions, and when I can´t think of a word, or am struggling with the grammar, they very patiently help me out with suggested words and the like. Milton assured me that this first month will be the worst, and that things will improve drastically after that...vamos a ver.
Today is a big day - I´m working at La Obra this afternoon (not sure what I´ll be doing, but I´ll be doing something), and this evening, Wilma is meeting with Kirsten and I to begin sorting out schedules and trying to come up with tasks that fit our interests and skills. Now, off to go find some pre-work food - chau!
Thursday, September 6, 2007
My first day in Uruguay
So, I´m sure everyone has been waiting with baited breath to see how crazy my first day in my home country-away-from-home country proved to be. Well, I´d hate to keep you waiting any longer.
Saying that Day One in Uruguay was a smidge trying would be a gross understatement. Now that it´s Day Two, it´s all pretty funny, but yesterday...eesh. It began with the method of transit - the ferry. Choppy water + smallish boat + Kevin = no bueno. I did not lose my lunch, gracias a Diós, but there were moments where I started to wonder about the likelihood of said illness occurring. Then, we arrived in Colonia del Sacramento, Uruguay, and it was time to go through customs. Being the genius that I am, I forgot to wait for my luggage before going through customs, so I got to clear customs TWICE after I realized my error and made the walk of shame back to the baggage claim belt. From there, it was onto the bus to Montevideo. This segment of the journey went fairly well, barring the positioning of my leg rest, which made it look like I had just given birth to my backpack...since it´s blue, I suppose that means that it´s a boy. I´ll wait until the baptism to give it a name, though.
Then, all of the sudden, the bus pulled over a scant 15 miles from Montevideo. A customs agent hopped on board and start calling out random baggage ticket numbers to inspect, mine among them. So, yet again, I got to go through customs, this time on the side of the road. Upon reboarding the bus, Milton assured me that "this NEVER happens" and that he had never before encountered a side-of-the-road customs inspection in his entire life...he´s a native Uruguayan, so I´m assuming he knows his stuff on this. We finally made it to the church, and they weren´t kiddin when they said it was downtown - it´s about as downtown as they come, right on one of the main streets in Montevideo. Wilma and several members of the congregation met us, and we had a great time chatting, doing a Bible study, and having dinner together. I received an invitation frm an expert in the art of the parrilla to come over to his house and exchange grilling techniques - he´s curious about Texas-style barbecue, and I´m dying to know how to grill South American-style, so it´s a great arrangement. He also apparently makes a dang tasty fejioada, a Brazilian dish involving black beans, meats, onion, etc - we´ll have to whip some of that up, too, methinks. The three of us volunteers (we were joined on the boat by Dorotea, a German volunteer who´ll be working and living with us until March) also played with an ADORABLE little girl at the church, Alejandra.
So, sounds like the perfect end to the day, eh? It would have been, had that have been the end. Oh no. Not in MY life. I went into my room to unpack, and I discovered that my guidebook had somehow worked it´s way into my jar of dulce de leche, so now I have a delightfully caramel-flavored Lonely Planet book on my desk. That, however, was funny....and the clean-up process was pretty tasty, not gonna lie. Yeah, that´s right - I licked my guidebook clean. So sue me. It tasted incredible. However, I then discovered that one of my toothpaste tubes had decided to explode all over the toiletries pouch in my suitcase - glad I didn´t put it in the main compartment. There was cinnamon-flavored Crest Pro Health over about everything. Suffice it to say that some non-ELCA Global Mission Office approved words were said within a few minutes of discovering the little toothpaste Chernobyl in my bag. I kinda cleaned up, but by that point was tired, flustered, and just wanted to sleep. However, there were some challenges on this front, namely...
-Not being able to find my lightswitch. That would be because it is not, in fact, in my room, but outside of it in the hall, so I have to exit my room to turn the light off before calling it a night. Fortunately, I do have a lamp by my bed, so that cuts down on superfluous trips to the lightswitch.
-Having to put extra clothes on. It was really cold in my room, and I didn´t have a blanket. I put on my pj pants and a shirt; that did it for a while. Then, socks and a sweater had to go on. Again, that worked for a little while. Eventually, I had to pull out my massive Bariloche parka and use it as a blanket. That mostly worked, and I slept reasonably ok until wake up at 8:30.
At breakfast, I learned that the girls had 8 (count ´em, 8) blankets in their room. Suffice it to say that I´ve since corrected that unequal distribution of bedding material. Today was less disaster-filled; we went to La Obra Barrio Borro (the after-school center) for the grand tour, and I spent my afternoon working with the 9-12 year olds. By "working," I mean answering questions about how to say this-and-that in Spanish, going to the park, nearly killing myself with a "trompo" (basically a top which is sent spinning with a string...this takes more skill than you´d think, apparently), drinking mate with the teachers, and then playing some basketball and on the teeter-totter after we got back to La Obra. It was a great first day; exhausting (esp. after the semi-sleep of last night), but I love the kids.
Well, that´s life in La Republica Oriental de Uruguay right now; I still don´t have a schedule figured out yet, or regular work per se, but the former should begin to materialize fairly soon. The latter...vamos a ver. I still have yet to see what sort of expectations and jobs Wilma has in store, and there are a lot of different things going on at La Obra, so my job description for the next year may very well be summed up as "other duties as assigned." So yeah, here´s to dulce de leche flavored guidebooks, toothpaste meltdowns, and a year filled with who-knows-what in Uruguay!
Saying that Day One in Uruguay was a smidge trying would be a gross understatement. Now that it´s Day Two, it´s all pretty funny, but yesterday...eesh. It began with the method of transit - the ferry. Choppy water + smallish boat + Kevin = no bueno. I did not lose my lunch, gracias a Diós, but there were moments where I started to wonder about the likelihood of said illness occurring. Then, we arrived in Colonia del Sacramento, Uruguay, and it was time to go through customs. Being the genius that I am, I forgot to wait for my luggage before going through customs, so I got to clear customs TWICE after I realized my error and made the walk of shame back to the baggage claim belt. From there, it was onto the bus to Montevideo. This segment of the journey went fairly well, barring the positioning of my leg rest, which made it look like I had just given birth to my backpack...since it´s blue, I suppose that means that it´s a boy. I´ll wait until the baptism to give it a name, though.
Then, all of the sudden, the bus pulled over a scant 15 miles from Montevideo. A customs agent hopped on board and start calling out random baggage ticket numbers to inspect, mine among them. So, yet again, I got to go through customs, this time on the side of the road. Upon reboarding the bus, Milton assured me that "this NEVER happens" and that he had never before encountered a side-of-the-road customs inspection in his entire life...he´s a native Uruguayan, so I´m assuming he knows his stuff on this. We finally made it to the church, and they weren´t kiddin when they said it was downtown - it´s about as downtown as they come, right on one of the main streets in Montevideo. Wilma and several members of the congregation met us, and we had a great time chatting, doing a Bible study, and having dinner together. I received an invitation frm an expert in the art of the parrilla to come over to his house and exchange grilling techniques - he´s curious about Texas-style barbecue, and I´m dying to know how to grill South American-style, so it´s a great arrangement. He also apparently makes a dang tasty fejioada, a Brazilian dish involving black beans, meats, onion, etc - we´ll have to whip some of that up, too, methinks. The three of us volunteers (we were joined on the boat by Dorotea, a German volunteer who´ll be working and living with us until March) also played with an ADORABLE little girl at the church, Alejandra.
So, sounds like the perfect end to the day, eh? It would have been, had that have been the end. Oh no. Not in MY life. I went into my room to unpack, and I discovered that my guidebook had somehow worked it´s way into my jar of dulce de leche, so now I have a delightfully caramel-flavored Lonely Planet book on my desk. That, however, was funny....and the clean-up process was pretty tasty, not gonna lie. Yeah, that´s right - I licked my guidebook clean. So sue me. It tasted incredible. However, I then discovered that one of my toothpaste tubes had decided to explode all over the toiletries pouch in my suitcase - glad I didn´t put it in the main compartment. There was cinnamon-flavored Crest Pro Health over about everything. Suffice it to say that some non-ELCA Global Mission Office approved words were said within a few minutes of discovering the little toothpaste Chernobyl in my bag. I kinda cleaned up, but by that point was tired, flustered, and just wanted to sleep. However, there were some challenges on this front, namely...
-Not being able to find my lightswitch. That would be because it is not, in fact, in my room, but outside of it in the hall, so I have to exit my room to turn the light off before calling it a night. Fortunately, I do have a lamp by my bed, so that cuts down on superfluous trips to the lightswitch.
-Having to put extra clothes on. It was really cold in my room, and I didn´t have a blanket. I put on my pj pants and a shirt; that did it for a while. Then, socks and a sweater had to go on. Again, that worked for a little while. Eventually, I had to pull out my massive Bariloche parka and use it as a blanket. That mostly worked, and I slept reasonably ok until wake up at 8:30.
At breakfast, I learned that the girls had 8 (count ´em, 8) blankets in their room. Suffice it to say that I´ve since corrected that unequal distribution of bedding material. Today was less disaster-filled; we went to La Obra Barrio Borro (the after-school center) for the grand tour, and I spent my afternoon working with the 9-12 year olds. By "working," I mean answering questions about how to say this-and-that in Spanish, going to the park, nearly killing myself with a "trompo" (basically a top which is sent spinning with a string...this takes more skill than you´d think, apparently), drinking mate with the teachers, and then playing some basketball and on the teeter-totter after we got back to La Obra. It was a great first day; exhausting (esp. after the semi-sleep of last night), but I love the kids.
Well, that´s life in La Republica Oriental de Uruguay right now; I still don´t have a schedule figured out yet, or regular work per se, but the former should begin to materialize fairly soon. The latter...vamos a ver. I still have yet to see what sort of expectations and jobs Wilma has in store, and there are a lot of different things going on at La Obra, so my job description for the next year may very well be summed up as "other duties as assigned." So yeah, here´s to dulce de leche flavored guidebooks, toothpaste meltdowns, and a year filled with who-knows-what in Uruguay!
Monday, September 3, 2007
Dramatis Personae and a few reflections
So, now that my time here is well underway, I feel somewhat obligated to mention some key people that you´ll be hearing about over the next year.
OTHER YAGMS
Kirsten/KD - My co-worker in Montevideo. From Minnesota, but has been living in Colorado. Wants me to wake her up in the mornings when it´s time for work with my deep announcer voice...I´m thinking this is a joke, but we shall see.
Karin - Assigned to Comodoro in Patagonia. From Seattle-ish. Walks really fast compared to several other group members.
Kim - Working in Oberdá in Missiones up north. From New York, but goes to seminary in Chicago. Majorly saved our butts in the airport by figuring out that our flight was cancelled.
Kristina - Placed in La Plata near Buenos Aires. From Puerto Rico, but has lived in a lot of places. Is my go-to source when people are looking at me funny after saying something in Spanish, but I don´t know what I did wrong.
James - Working in Resistencia in the north. From Wisconsin. Is probably the most thoroughly enthusiastic person I´ve met in my life.
Katie - Not technically a YAGM, but a part of the group nonetheless, working in Comodoro. From Minnesota, but lives in New York. Is not a big fan of flan these days.
OTHER BIG NAMES
Kate - Our country coordinator, and one cool person!
David - Kate´s husband. Also very cool, and could pass for a native Argentine.
Milton and Wilma - My site bosses in Uruguay; Milton at the after school center and Wilma at the church. I meet them tomorrow for the first time.
So, that´s the cast at this point - an incredible group of people to be working with for the next year! As we´ve spent this first week together in Buenos Aires, I´ve had some time to think about what I´ll be doing, and why I´m doing it. The why is deceptively simple. I could give physical reasons why - needing a break from school, wanting to live on my own and feel truly independent, a sense of restlessness, a desire to see the world, wanting to work on my Spanish. These are all good, solid reasons, and they´re not bad motivations to have. However, they´re not why I´m doing this. I could have taken a job teaching in the states, gotten an apartment, saved up for some vacations, and found a Spanish-language church if I wanted to meet those goals. It´s the call that brought me here, that deep-seated sense of purpose and divine appointment.
The logic of it, on some level, escapes me. Why come to South America to do things I could do back home without any of the risk or venture associated with pulling up stakes and coming down here? Because God made this way for me, and in faith I´m walking this out. I´m reminded of (go figure) a Rolling Stones lyric - "when the Lord gets ready, you gotta move." Well, the Lord got ready, and all I can do is follow, even to the ends of the earth.
And what ends, too. Argentine life is certainly pleasant, but it´s also different, and has already started to challenge me, even if just in the little things right now. Kissing cheeks, for example. I am not Mr. Touchy-Feely. I don´t particularly enjoy unsolicited physical contact, and I have to be comfortable with you to a certain level to want to hug, and I VERY seldom kiss people period. However, in Argentina, a kiss on the cheek is a very common greeting across all gender lines. I was more than a little taken by surprise when the men at the IELU (Iglésia Evangélica Luterana Unida de Argentina y Uruguay) office just gave me a kiss on the cheek when we went by for a visit. That´s just not how I comfortably operate - as the stereotypical Texan in me would say, "we don´t do THAT stuff ´round here."
However, I´m not down home in sleepy Seguin on the banks of the Guadalupe. I´m in Buenos Aires, and I´m the one who has to change, grow, and embrace some new cultural norms. That leads directly into the what question. I´m not here to beat on doors, pass out tracts, and bring light into the heathen´s darkness. That sort of mission work, at least in a cross-cultural perspective, is ultimately derogatory and demeaning in that it assumes that I´m better than my hosts, that I know more than them, and that they can´t get along without me. It´s Poisonwood Bible mission work - doing a good thing in theory, but in practice sowing evil because of misguided motivation. I want to be here because it´s where God has put me. I want to be like Philip in the Book of Acts, waiting on the roadside for what opportunities God has appointed for me, and again like Philip, I want to be available for needs recognized by the people I´m here to serve, not just a know-it-all trying arrogantly to push my own spiritual agenda. I want to live the Gospel of the Kingdom, not just tell people about it.
That´s not to be insulting toward outreach-oriented mission trips. People DO need the liberating truth of the Gospel. However, the purpose of my year here is to join in the work that God is already doing with and through God´s people here; presupposing that I, in my wisdom and glory, have all the answers for the people of South America´s problems is arrogant and ultimately cuts me off from God´s work in my context rather than promoting that work.
So, that´s life along the Rio de la Plata these days. I´ll get some photos up as soon as I can, and some fun stories from the first weeks. Chau!
OTHER YAGMS
Kirsten/KD - My co-worker in Montevideo. From Minnesota, but has been living in Colorado. Wants me to wake her up in the mornings when it´s time for work with my deep announcer voice...I´m thinking this is a joke, but we shall see.
Karin - Assigned to Comodoro in Patagonia. From Seattle-ish. Walks really fast compared to several other group members.
Kim - Working in Oberdá in Missiones up north. From New York, but goes to seminary in Chicago. Majorly saved our butts in the airport by figuring out that our flight was cancelled.
Kristina - Placed in La Plata near Buenos Aires. From Puerto Rico, but has lived in a lot of places. Is my go-to source when people are looking at me funny after saying something in Spanish, but I don´t know what I did wrong.
James - Working in Resistencia in the north. From Wisconsin. Is probably the most thoroughly enthusiastic person I´ve met in my life.
Katie - Not technically a YAGM, but a part of the group nonetheless, working in Comodoro. From Minnesota, but lives in New York. Is not a big fan of flan these days.
OTHER BIG NAMES
Kate - Our country coordinator, and one cool person!
David - Kate´s husband. Also very cool, and could pass for a native Argentine.
Milton and Wilma - My site bosses in Uruguay; Milton at the after school center and Wilma at the church. I meet them tomorrow for the first time.
So, that´s the cast at this point - an incredible group of people to be working with for the next year! As we´ve spent this first week together in Buenos Aires, I´ve had some time to think about what I´ll be doing, and why I´m doing it. The why is deceptively simple. I could give physical reasons why - needing a break from school, wanting to live on my own and feel truly independent, a sense of restlessness, a desire to see the world, wanting to work on my Spanish. These are all good, solid reasons, and they´re not bad motivations to have. However, they´re not why I´m doing this. I could have taken a job teaching in the states, gotten an apartment, saved up for some vacations, and found a Spanish-language church if I wanted to meet those goals. It´s the call that brought me here, that deep-seated sense of purpose and divine appointment.
The logic of it, on some level, escapes me. Why come to South America to do things I could do back home without any of the risk or venture associated with pulling up stakes and coming down here? Because God made this way for me, and in faith I´m walking this out. I´m reminded of (go figure) a Rolling Stones lyric - "when the Lord gets ready, you gotta move." Well, the Lord got ready, and all I can do is follow, even to the ends of the earth.
And what ends, too. Argentine life is certainly pleasant, but it´s also different, and has already started to challenge me, even if just in the little things right now. Kissing cheeks, for example. I am not Mr. Touchy-Feely. I don´t particularly enjoy unsolicited physical contact, and I have to be comfortable with you to a certain level to want to hug, and I VERY seldom kiss people period. However, in Argentina, a kiss on the cheek is a very common greeting across all gender lines. I was more than a little taken by surprise when the men at the IELU (Iglésia Evangélica Luterana Unida de Argentina y Uruguay) office just gave me a kiss on the cheek when we went by for a visit. That´s just not how I comfortably operate - as the stereotypical Texan in me would say, "we don´t do THAT stuff ´round here."
However, I´m not down home in sleepy Seguin on the banks of the Guadalupe. I´m in Buenos Aires, and I´m the one who has to change, grow, and embrace some new cultural norms. That leads directly into the what question. I´m not here to beat on doors, pass out tracts, and bring light into the heathen´s darkness. That sort of mission work, at least in a cross-cultural perspective, is ultimately derogatory and demeaning in that it assumes that I´m better than my hosts, that I know more than them, and that they can´t get along without me. It´s Poisonwood Bible mission work - doing a good thing in theory, but in practice sowing evil because of misguided motivation. I want to be here because it´s where God has put me. I want to be like Philip in the Book of Acts, waiting on the roadside for what opportunities God has appointed for me, and again like Philip, I want to be available for needs recognized by the people I´m here to serve, not just a know-it-all trying arrogantly to push my own spiritual agenda. I want to live the Gospel of the Kingdom, not just tell people about it.
That´s not to be insulting toward outreach-oriented mission trips. People DO need the liberating truth of the Gospel. However, the purpose of my year here is to join in the work that God is already doing with and through God´s people here; presupposing that I, in my wisdom and glory, have all the answers for the people of South America´s problems is arrogant and ultimately cuts me off from God´s work in my context rather than promoting that work.
So, that´s life along the Rio de la Plata these days. I´ll get some photos up as soon as I can, and some fun stories from the first weeks. Chau!
Saturday, September 1, 2007
Ch-ch-ch-changes
So, forget everything I said about being in Bariloche. There was a last-minute change of plans due to some problems at my assigned church, and so I will now be living and working in Montevideo, Uruguay with my friend and fellow YAGM, Kirsten.
I´m pretty happy with the change; Montevideo sounds like an absolutely incredible place - essentially a smaller, more laid-back version of Buenos Aires, where I´m at currently. Buenos Aires is, simply put, HUGE. It´s metro population is nearly the same as NYC´s, and it SPRAWLS - this is probably the mos massive-feeling city that I´ve ever visited. And I LOVE it, too - fast-paced, great people watching, and oh-so-European. The city feels like a slightly grittier version of Rome minus the ancient ruins. There´s also a definite Parisian air to BA, too, thanks to all the cafés, pastry shops, and wide avenidas. The world´s widest street is here - Avenida 9 de Julio. It´s massive and has two other streets running alongside it, making for something like 24 lanes of traffic to cross.
On Thursday, the international day of remembrance and protest for the disappeared and detained, we went to the Plaza de Mayo to be with the Madres de la Plaza de Mayo. These women lost their children during the military dictatorship of the late 1970s (which the US supported, by the way - we trained their secret police operatives at the School of the Americas), and so they began gathering at the Plaza de Mayo in front of the Casa Rosada (the Argentine equivalent of the White House) to demand justice for their children´s deaths simply for being too liberal for the government´s tastes. They still march every Thursday. This Thursday, being a special occasion, there was a big active art display in the Plaza - notebooks with names and pictures of the disappeared, and you were supposed to write the names of the desaparecidos over and over again in the notebook to help preserve their identity for all time. After the march, we sat down with a few of the Madres, who told us their stories of loss and their quest for justice and awareness.
Today, on a much lighter note, we had a free day, and so the group of us went to La Boca, one of Buenos Aires´ most colorful neighborhoods, both literally and figuratively. Many of the buildings there are covered in brightly-painted tin, and there was a big street market, complete with drumming, dancing, and the like. I got ambushed by a pair of VERY lovely Argentine women in tango dress (La Boca was more-or-less the birthplace of tango culture) for a photo; I am not complaining about that.
More stories to come later, I´m trying to get out of here in less than half an hour. Chau!
I´m pretty happy with the change; Montevideo sounds like an absolutely incredible place - essentially a smaller, more laid-back version of Buenos Aires, where I´m at currently. Buenos Aires is, simply put, HUGE. It´s metro population is nearly the same as NYC´s, and it SPRAWLS - this is probably the mos massive-feeling city that I´ve ever visited. And I LOVE it, too - fast-paced, great people watching, and oh-so-European. The city feels like a slightly grittier version of Rome minus the ancient ruins. There´s also a definite Parisian air to BA, too, thanks to all the cafés, pastry shops, and wide avenidas. The world´s widest street is here - Avenida 9 de Julio. It´s massive and has two other streets running alongside it, making for something like 24 lanes of traffic to cross.
On Thursday, the international day of remembrance and protest for the disappeared and detained, we went to the Plaza de Mayo to be with the Madres de la Plaza de Mayo. These women lost their children during the military dictatorship of the late 1970s (which the US supported, by the way - we trained their secret police operatives at the School of the Americas), and so they began gathering at the Plaza de Mayo in front of the Casa Rosada (the Argentine equivalent of the White House) to demand justice for their children´s deaths simply for being too liberal for the government´s tastes. They still march every Thursday. This Thursday, being a special occasion, there was a big active art display in the Plaza - notebooks with names and pictures of the disappeared, and you were supposed to write the names of the desaparecidos over and over again in the notebook to help preserve their identity for all time. After the march, we sat down with a few of the Madres, who told us their stories of loss and their quest for justice and awareness.
Today, on a much lighter note, we had a free day, and so the group of us went to La Boca, one of Buenos Aires´ most colorful neighborhoods, both literally and figuratively. Many of the buildings there are covered in brightly-painted tin, and there was a big street market, complete with drumming, dancing, and the like. I got ambushed by a pair of VERY lovely Argentine women in tango dress (La Boca was more-or-less the birthplace of tango culture) for a photo; I am not complaining about that.
More stories to come later, I´m trying to get out of here in less than half an hour. Chau!
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