Fitting In

Maybe a little over a month ago, my mom sent me one of her letters that is always jammed packed with little “tidbits,” as she calls them,-usually news clippings of interest, most of them being things pertinent to my hometown. In this particular letter, she included a clipping from the April 19th edition of Newsweek, a little blurb by an international travel author named Seth Stevenson, who wrote about blending in with local people when traveling.  Titled How to be Invisible Stevenson writes about being mistaken in Germany for a local when somebody asks him for the time. He goes on to write about the most successful ways to shed American fashion and habits in order to blend in with local culture.

Apparently this is a big deal for a lot of people-trying hard to fit in and come off like a local. Whatever the reason is-Stevenson claims his is “antropological”, I know others who simply don’t want to look like obnoxious tourists-not sticking out is appealing. However, in my semester abroad here in Buenos Aires, looking like a local is the least of my worries.

Before leaving, Georgetown’s division of Overseas Studies gave us a whole sheet on how best to not stick out like an obvious American. Most of the suggestions, like Stevenson’s pertained to fashion-the big one that comes to mind right now is don’t wear clothes with English writing on them. I don’t know if it’s because my first real international experience was in a small rural town in Mexico, where I was going to stick out no matter what, but I’ve never really been concerned with not looking the part of a local. In my wardrobe you’ll find many American clothes-especially t-shirts that I sport around the whole city. Independence Basketball Camp 2001, Washington Nationals, Appalachian Trail-Maine to Georgia and my US National Team soccer Jersey are all dead giveaways. And while Quiznos could maybe pass as Spanish, the mmm…Toasty right underneath it should take care of that.

I tend to like to stick to my roots, rep my hometown, be true to myself- whatever you want to call it. By no means am I trying to impose my culture or upbringing on anything here-it’s just I’d rather be who I am rather than trying to fit into something that I’m not. Seeing that I speak “Mexican” Spanish I still haven’t picked up the “ch” sound on the double L’s and the Y’s here-and seeing that I’m OK with not sounding like a porteno-I probably won’t. That’s not to say that you can be totally stubborn and rigid, of course you have to give a little to get some, especially culturally. But in aesthetics, appearance, or your accent, I don’t think that’s all that important-how boring would it be if everybody was the same?

All of that being said, it might strike some of you as rather surprising that I’ve had enormous success with blending in like a local. Stevenson’s article is prompted by the fact that a German in Germany asked him what time it was-if I wrote a blog post detailing the event every time that’s happened to me with locals this semester I’d have bored away all my readers! But it gets better than that. While my exposed watch is a natural reason to ask somebody what time it is-when people are asking me, of all people, for directions, it must be a sight that I am fitting in somewhat well. Today alone on my half hour run, I was stopped for directions 3 times! I might have only been 1 for 3 (my success rate can’t be much higher than this for the semester as a whole), but I will give Stevenson some credit-being able to tell a local where something is, in a foreign language is extremely rewarding. I notched perhaps my biggest prize last week when a cartonero, an informal worker who roams the streets collecting recyclable materials for a living, asked me where the nearest deposito-or place to sell the material was. In hindsight I might have been a little too conservative on how far away it was-but I was able to tell him how to get to there!

So how does a kid who’s professed his disinterest in blending in have such success in a place like Buenos Aires? First, due to the huge numbers of European immigrants that came to Argentina and Buenos Aires at the beginning of the 20th century, an Argentine can have many distinctive looks. Apart from those with the typical darker toned skin that many have in Latin America, many have a very pale skin tone  and would be described as “white”. That helps some-but you can usually pick out an American pretty easily on the streets so there has to be a little more. Reason #2 would have to be either my scruff or nearly full beard, depending on the time of the month. You’ll be hard pressed to find a lot of clean shaven men here in Buenos Aires, it seems that scruff is in style- and my laziness when it comes to shaving has helped out in this realm a lot. Finally, I’d hypothesize, most importantly-running seals the deal. Tourists aren’t usually found in my neighborhood of Villa Crespo, and running tourists is out of the question. Plus, naturally if somebody’s running through the area you’d probably think that they live close or know the area fairly well-hence the frequent questions for directions.

“Is this a lofty goal?” was scribbled next to the Stevenson headline in the Newsweek clipping. Well, mom, not only is it not a goal of mine, but surprisingly neither has it been out of reach.