I also recall my professor saying that she felt U.S. culture to be highly individualistic; you either sink or swim, depending on how well you pull yourself up by your own bootstraps.
The Argentine commitment to public expression has a notable social component: people care about their community.
One of my favorite anecdotes illustrative of the country’s emotive and communal cultural practices involves my professor at the Catholic University of Argentina throwing a piece of chalk at my friend Olivia.
One night during class, Olivia’s eyes involuntarily closed. Before she even realized that they were shut, a piece of chalk came flying towards her and hit the windowpane behind her head. The professor then launched into a tirade on the lack of respect that sleeping in class conveyed.
After a moment of silence, an Argentine student boldly probed, “Excuse me, Professor, but isn’t it disrespectful to throw chalk at a student?” Neither Olivia nor I, the only two foreigners in the room, could have prepared ourselves for the fifteen-minute debate on the ideal student-professor rapport that the question instigated. Classic, Argentina.
An awareness of the public of which they, too, are a part is what prompts Argentines to share mate, their go-to tea, together whenever possible. I once watched a kid fill his cup with tea twelve times and pass it around the room to his craving classmates.
… It’s also what compels bus drivers to permit mobile peddlers to ride for free for the few minutes it takes to sell their products.
… It’s the reason why community members erected a shrine at the intersection of two of the busiest streets in Buenos Aires in honor of Pechito, a beloved homeless man who passed away.
… Why bakery workers never let a begging child leave their establishments without a plastic bag brimming with fresh bread rolls.
… Why a gentleman who was waiting for his granddaughter at a bus stop waited until my bus came in order to lend me his transportation card, knowing I didn’t have one of my own. While the #20 took its sweet time, he asked me, “So, how’s Obama?”
… Why people constantly question me and my fellow exchange-student friends on where we’re from and what we think of Argentina and its incumbent government. By the way, there’s no shame in approaching a semi “Jewish-looking” girl and asking her if she hails from Israel. The nationality guessing game isn’t meant to be offensive, it’s meant to help Argentines connect with those around them.
I’ll never forget the moment when I went to study at the grandiose Military Circle Library; though a movie was being filmed there, the security guards kindly ushered me past the hullabaloo of the set towards the library’s entrance. Despite the distraction I may have caused, it was unthinkable to them to not let me access a space demarcated for the public. (Confession: I spent most of my time hopelessly dreaming that my study-chic looks would catch the eye of some young star instead of actually studying).
To conclude, I’ve realized that all of it— the constant politicking, “holas and “chaus,” cheek kisses and interrogations of strangers — is part-and-parcel with the country’s fight to sustain its nascent democracy. Argentina has passionately shown me that silence is the worst sin of a citizenry and community.
