Before even leaving Chile, English was thrust upon me thanks to my Caucasian complexion. This time I gave in and humored my language captors by responding in like terms. Oh to be back in the land of English.
And service. What struck me already, my first brunch back was the heightened status of service and low-wage jobs in North America. That is to say, the expectations of low-income workers are higher here, as are their benefits. We really have it pretty good. My water and coffee were refilled laboriously, practically while drinking! I'm even asked how I'm doing and at least one-way introductions are communicated. This much has been gained by crossing hemispheres.
But what has been lost? Nature, tranquility, and awareness. Nature seems like a distant land or something you may opt for as a reward during a brief recess. A lot of kids age 5 - 85 still choose to stay inside instead of frolic in nature during their break from obligations, paid or not. Whereas, just a few days ago in Argentina and Chile, it was a strange occasion to take a reprieve from the mountains for a resupply of "civilization" and its treats.
Tranquility, too, seems like a concept belonging in poems about serene and secluded lakes rather than, say, the most frequently uttered word in Argentina, "tranki". Back at my original home state of Maine, "Vacationland" as it were, I already see people rushing around. Boston's even worse. Taking the time to be late for things is absurdism condemnable as rude. You can be HAraNGuED for that. I already have been. I own no watch. And my mind is still in the mountains.
My awareness is altered, too. I admit regrettably that I have become a zombie. I was bitten by my cell phone and can't shake the horse-blinder hypnosis of checking apps every 3 seconds even while walking into things. Many others also suffer from this widely recognized disease. Rather than just going to events and living them, we are sharing and observing them through a non-corporeal device. I quite miss being without a phone and auto-updating device. Soaking in the morning dew and the view of the mountains and clouds. Waking up according to my will, or that of the dreams I'd had that night. I also wake up now thinking of what I have to do, wondering if I'm late or if I smell "good enough". This in contrast to thinking of what I'd love to do, wondering if anyone else I'm camping with is up yet, too, to share mate with.
But now, as I strap on my shoes to go for a run on a road on an island, I finish drinking my mate all alone (it is strong custom in Argentina & Chile to share mate) and reflect on some more differences. And how I shall either adapt to or rebel the newly proposed daily rituals.
More to come on running and events from this past season in Cochamó, Chile and Argentina.
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