Honors Link

To try to guess the ramifications my experiences may have on my future would be like digging through a suitcase full of beautiful, valuable things to find what lies at the bottom. Being at the bottom is relative. The suitcase could be standing up or lying on its side or hanging upside down. Although I can put my finger on a hundred ways my opinions about nearly everything have changed over the past nine months, every day I discover new aspects of myself and my trip. So maybe instead of digging for the bottom, I should take my time unpacking this suitcase.

To start: I opened my eyes for the first time in South America, flying over what I believed to be Brasilia. After I finished congratulating myself for recognizing the infamous cityscape of Brazil’s capital (it allegedly looks like an airplane), I realized that this city beneath me was no more than a mile long. We were above the province of Santa Fe, and every little village we passed was lit by a pattern of streetlamps that picked up the intersection of the highway and the town’s main boulevard (the tail of the plane), continued down the boulevard to “downtown” (the body of the plane), and extended down two more paved neighborhood arteries, intersecting at the main plaza and extending at ninety degree angles (the wings of the plane). But imagine! If villages of a few thousand engaged my imagination fully, imagine Gran Buenos Aires, a metropolitan area of almost 14 million! I suppose those born in New York find nothing strange about it, but ever since I developed a consciousness for something as abstract as urbanity, I’ve lived in suburban or rural Oregon. The extent of Portland’s downtown is visible from Marquam Hill, where I used to work. From the top of my university building in Buenos Aires, there is a sea of apartment buildings. From the street, its size is intangible, and even the most rational imagine that the city is infinite. Unless you see it from an airplane, I suppose.

October 31st, 2014 I had a discussion that caused me to realize that I enjoyed speaking in Spanish more than English. I’ve heard before that language and culture shape the framework in which we think, which is a pretty abstract concept unless you’ve stepped out of your framework and into another. It is true that the dynamic between words and tones and intentions that are expressed by language is different in English and Spanish, and attaining fluency as a non-native speaker involves entering into that new dynamic rather than replicating the old. A few examples: claro, igual, and bueno express cues in conversation that don’t exist in English and to use them “correctly” (i.e. like an Argentine) cannot be taught from a textbook. In English, I identify with a certain role, with mannerisms and an attitude, in relation to those around me. When I speak to my family, it doesn’t matter if I want to be perceived as more outgoing, more mature, whatever. There is a dynamic within which my mom and I fit, and this dynamic determines to some extent how I act. But in Spanish, I identify with no role, there is no baggage, and I can express myself as I want to be perceived. In Spanish, I learn to understand a way of thinking. In English we assume to understand people through a linguistically shared set of connotation, intonation, and innuendo. In Spanish, it’s clear that I can only scratch the surface of the endless depth of another human being’s intricacies.

I will forever be indebted to Luis Sepulveda. If not for him, I would still be one of the poor fools believing the world to end at Ushuaia or maybe Antarctica (ha! can you believe it?). The end of the world is Villa O’Higgins, Chile! This is something that, in terms of absolute geography, doesn’t make sense; an entire Region (Magellanes) lies south of O’Higgins, including Punta Arenas. But in a respect that a map cannot convey, Villa O’Higgins is the end of the road. Punta Arenas exists as an international trade waypoint, originally between for ships carrying California’s gold to Europe, now for Argentina. Puerto Natales and Puerto Willliams exist for very specific reasons: natural tourism and geopolitics. Villa O’Higgins is truly a part of the frontier. Personally, the most difficult part of tourism is justifying the expense. Not just the plane ticket, but restaurants, hostels, and buses when it is possible to picnic, sleep outside, walk, and hitchhike. But the road to O’Higgins doesn’t have restaurants, or hostels, nor in many cases buses. It will change, of course, but this wild frontier showed me something truly elementary about being on the road; not tourism, but moving, seeing, touching, eating, and drinking. The conceits we use to classify our activities were stripped away and I was left with simply being a human, inspired by the actions of my ancestors since the beginning of time.

In conclusion:
• Recognize beauty wherever you are.
• Learn a language and it will teach you about a culture, a people, and yourself.
• Live life simply.