My plane in from Buenos Aires arrives at 5:00am and my plane out doesn’t leave until 9:30 am. I have slept for only 2 hours on the plane because I spent the night talking with Claudio the elderly Argentinean man next to me – he’s a neuroscientist in Chicago but later divulges that he has lost belief in science and developed faith only in spiritualism and he hides this from his colleagues. About the United States he advises me, “In the US there are too many things that you can’t talk about. Religion. Politics. Sex. Not sex but man woman relationships. Especially at work “In Argentina, you must have a strong opinion and shout about everything or else you are nobody.” Claudio can’t sleep on planes and so, neither can I.
Standing in line for Customs in Chicago, I find myself planning what I will say in Spanish to the customs agent and I am shocked when he speaks English. I forget I am in America. I plan my phrases for ordering breakfast at McDonald’s…and they speak English. I still say gracias and por favor. I can not stop. I have $9.00 USD which I found in a wad of bills at the bottom of my travel bag and the money is confusing - all the bills look the same no matter what their denomination is. While eating my Egg McMuffin I try to read my book, the one the religious neuroscientist kept me from on the plane, but everyone…and I mean everyone….around me is speaking English. I can’t concentrate. I can’t stop hearing the meanings. I can’t stop listening to the conversations.
“I’ve never partied with Todd.”
“Yeah, no. He gets weird”
“There were a lot of people at the party.”
“Who else was in there?”
“There was…well…Shayna. He came late. Yeah. There were so many people.”
“A lot of shit went down.”
“Yeah. No.”
“I can text him. I know how to text.”
“It’s cheaper than calling.”
“That’s what I’ll do, text him.”
“Yeah. Text him. I bought hundred calorie muffins.”
“We are currently at Code Level Orange.”
I can’t turn them off.. Being out of the Spanish language I suddenly have no privacy. The language comes to me from everywhere. I can’t be alone.
I go to the gate to wait for my plane. I sit as far as I can from everyone, but it’s not enough. Announcements, a distant television, people approaching the window to watch the planes – it’s overwhelming. I feel like I have a tiny bit of knowledge what it might be like to suddenly be able to read minds. For many months now, understanding has been an option. Participating in the Spanish around me was a choice. I could try to understand the meaning behind the sounds or I could let them become background noise. I could choose to read signs or I could look at them like aesthetic symbols. Then, suddenly, in 11 hours, communication is no longer optional and I feel entirely overwhelmed.
I get up to go to the bathroom and I bump into a woman in the entrance. “Lo siento,” I say. She just looks at me. English. I am supposed to speak English. I’m back in the United States for only three hours and already I’m overwhelmed.
I have more to say about Argentina. I have many notes on adventures untold and many thoughts unprocessed. But I’m going to step away from that trip for a little while now. I plan on continuing this blog with material on South Carolina, past trips, and some of the Argentina material not yet done.
At this moment, I’m sitting a table in small town South Carolina. I haven’t spoken Spanish for several weeks. Already, I’ve forgotten so much. Yet, I still occasionally say “como?” instead of “huh?” and my brain keeps thinking “pero” instead of “what”. I’m happy to be home. I miss my Buenos Aires friends terribly. I’m glad to see my family. I miss being alone- really alone, the way I could be alone in the center of Patagonia where I couldn’t understand anyone and they couldn’t understand me and I could pretend that was only because of a language barrier.