September
15th 2007, 3:30 AM.
I stepped off the plane onto Argentine soil and
walked inside the airport. It was only yesterday when I was in the United
States, with my new friends. We had spent the last nine weeks learning and
studying Spanish together. The time flew by fast and I didn’t feel like I knew
enough to get me around in Argentina.
At the airport I stood in line with my
visa and passport hoping they would let me into their country. It’s a good
thing I had an uneasy look on my face, because I knew the attendant was talking
slower for me so I could understand him. Everything checked out just fine and I
was allowed to proceed.
I am now officially in Argentina. If only
I knew what to do next. I followed the other people I had just met that were
now part of my group. We walked down the stairs to gather our luggage, my only possessions
for the next two years. Once we had our things we walked out of the gate and
looked for anyone who might be waiting for us. They must have forgotten us or
they were just really late, we waited several hours for someone to pick us up.
Sitting in a foreign airport with
three other people who don’t speak Spanish any better than you do gives you
quite the disoriented feeling. Waiting on top of our luggage without anyway of
contacting people hoping someone shows up to help us. After a few hours a man
in a van pulled up and helped us load our things (we were lucky he wasn’t some
strange robber).
He drove us to the Missionary Training
Center in Buenos Aires. There we got a quick nap and a warm meal then we were
off to our different areas. I was with another missionary heading to Bahia
Blanca. We loaded in the van and headed back to the airport, for our next
flight.
Throughout the days trips we met many
new people who we tried to talk to but it was slightly difficult. Our last
plane ride was pretty fast considering we didn’t have to travel 4,968.2 miles again.
After
another day of traveling by bus and now taxi I finally made it to the place where
I would be able to drop my luggage and unpack. I was paired with another
missionary who was from Arizona; he had been in the country for a year already.
Once I was all unpacked and settled in we walked to the store for our weekly shopping.
The tiny store was only a few blocks away, but by the time we go there my newly
polished shoes were all dusty and dirty. Almost all of the roads that I walked
on were dirt roads; I learned very quickly not to waste too much time trying to
keep them clean.
The store was very small but packed
full of strange food, or at least the packaging was strange. Milk was in a one
liter bag, meat was right there on the counter along with the cheese, bread was
in baskets that you buy by the kilogram. My companion helped my make my first
purchases, because I was completely lost.
That evening we had dinner with a family
that went to our church. I tried to speak to them but it was very difficult. They
were used to new missionaries visiting them, so they were very understanding.
Each day was a new experience for me. The
smells were different, the sights were unlike home, and everything was new. There
were dogs everywhere from every breed, but mostly mutts. We kept our distance
just in case, if one came after us all we had to do was reach down and pretend
to grab a rock and they would be scared off.
Up to this point I was very ethnocentric. I
thought the people here were all weird and the things they did and drank were
weird too. But over the course of time I grew to love them, and thought of it
as my own way of life. When my two years were up it was hard for me to leave. I
had grown accustomed to this culture. I made new friends, tried new things and I
didn’t want to go.
Back 4,968.2 miles north to Atlanta, GA. When I got
off the plane and went through customs it was hard for me to communicate with
the people there, not because of their southern accent, but because I had grown
accustomed to hearing Spanish all the time. When I arrived in South Bend my
family picked me up and we went to eat Japanese food per my request. On our way
there I was riding with my dad and I was stunned to see all of the billboards
and store signs were all in English. Nothing in Spanish, nobody spoke Spanish. It
was very difficult to be thrown into a world that is completely different from
the one you had just come from. I never expected to experience culture shock in
my own home.
