The worse period of learning the language is the quiet stage. I don't know how other students learn languages, but my language acquisition process has rather predictable stages:
(1) Introduction to the language - quite incompetent in conversation, but proud of one's abilities to insert a word from the new language into an otherwise-English sentence.
(2) Familiarity with language - Starting to obtain an ear for the language, feeling comfortable with the basic vocabulary and grammar, speaking with confidence in the new language.
(3) A bit more study - Begin to realize that there are many grammatical rules that have NOT been fully absorbed. Begin to second-guess self and speech is very choppy and insecure.
(4) Quite a bit more study, plus contact with native speakers - Now positive that one's grammar and accent is downright awful. Avoiding speaking at all costs, and when forced to speak, unconfident to the point that all (or most) basic grammatical and vocabulary skills are lost.
(5) Realization of just how hopeless the situation is - Sick of being quiet all the time, and resigned to the fact that one will simply sound funny for quite awhile, start to speak more frequently with native and non-native speakers.
(6) Natural flow of words - Comfortable with language in speech and writing. Thinking and dreaming in the language. Although the accent is still not perfect and there may be some grammatical mistakes, on the whole competent and able to function fully in the new language.
(7) ???
Okay, I don't know what happens at number 7 because I'd say I'm at a 6 with Spanish. I think you get a perfect accent and a contract with "Brujas" (a Chilean soap opera) next, but I could be mistaken. I felt somewhere between 4 and 5 (almost out of 4) when I went to Chile, and I remember the frustration at myself for the first week or so when I didn't want to speak with native speakers in Chile. Currently, I'm at around a 3 or a 4 in German and just about ready to pull out all my hair.
I want to communicate! I have too many thoughts and ideas and opinions that I want to share in class or when we're speaking German outside of class. I understand the vast majority of the conversations that are going on around me, but I do not feel able to participate, and it is so frustrating. I am NOT without opinions. I am NOT silent. And I am not nearly as rude or dumb (in either sense of the word) as my floormates must surmise from my monosyllabic answers to most of their questions.
It's humiliating to hear myself talk and I don't want to seem completely anti-social (partly, yes, but not entirely). I most of all miss being able to express a sense of humor and play with the language. I can do this in English. I can do this with some people in Spanish. I am hopeless in German. That's the fun of speech, of language, of banter. It's tiring to function in another language without having this aspect.
It's tiring to have to strain to pay attention to what should be a simple conversation. It's obnoxious to have to piece contexts and sentences together instead of just understanding what someone says because my vocabulary is limited. And it's lonely not to be able to communicate. I have to hold back too much of what I'm thinking (which is interesting; I suppose I'm more vocally expressive than I thought).
And it's strange, but I'm not functioning in any given language. I switch back and forth between thinking in Spanish, English, and inarticulate German (yes, I have ineloquent thoughts when I am thinking in German). But I can't seem to have any language coordination between my mouth and my mind. I think in Spanish when trying to speak German. I think in German when trying to speak English or German. I think in English...well, only after reading, writing, or hearing a lot of English. Otherwise I seem to default to a language in which I am less competent. Academic masochism, perhaps?
Ah, speaking (writing) of academic masochism, I pulled my first all-nighter in over six months the other night. We had two tests in one day and the vocabulary simply was not sticking in my mind from the previous studying, so I just kept studying and turning flashcards until they did. That rolled right into the beginning of the test, so no sleep was had. I definitely never had to study this much in Chile, although all-nighters were pretty common at LC (thank you, swimming schedule). Up until naptime, which occurred immediately after my second test, I felt really good. I got my second wind at about 3 in the morning, after which I was able to appreciate the effort I was putting into it, satisfied with the fact that I was once again studying enough to disturb my sleep schedule. I don't know that this makes sense to anyone, but I really missed having to exhaust myself from the amount of work I had. Pushing boundaries, I suppose. Academically, Chile didn't make me do that. Staying up late was tied to salsa dancing or arguing with Stephanie's brother's friends, but not to studying.
On the other hand, I think I may have a subconscious theory that if I mentally beat myself up about this enough, the language will come faster. I know it is futile to want to push myself more and I'll just burn out.... But it's so darn frustrating to not be competent in this language.
On a more positive note, I'm looking at classes for next semester...no one but me really cares about this, so you can just skip this paragraph if you want. I'm planning on taking (1) Sprachkurs A, a continuation of the grammar class that I'm in now; (2) Culture and Civilization (German, obviously); (3) Japanese 1 for no credits because although I may get away with Korean, there is no way LC will let me have credit for Japanese. This means I don't have to put in effort for a good grade; just get an introduction to the language... (4)Introduction to German morphology, (5) German semantics, and (6) Current trends in Argentinean movies. The last is in Spanish and I'm really excited about it. I'm also excited for the linguistic and grammar courses... Really for everything but Culture and Civilization because I'm pretty sure there will be date-memorization involved in the tests and I'm time-stupid. If you told me that World War I brought about the French Revolution, I would be very insecure in saying that the French Revolution was at least a decade earlier (1789 and 1914. I know.) This was a bad example because these dates were on one of our tests and I had to spend many hours committing the numbers to memory. See all-nighter paragraph. Generally, though, I'm quite date-ignorant.
21 September 2005
14 September 2005
(Reverse) Culture Shock: München, Deutschland
Upon first arriving in München, I had difficulties compromising the experiences and values I gained in Chile with what I was observing and experiencing as a foreigner here. My time in Latin America drastically changed my ideas of what is normal or intelligent behavior, especially as a foreigner in a large city. I quickly began to notice how loud Americans are as compared to Chileans - not just in volume (though you can hear an American a block away by the volume of her voice), but in behavior as well. We tend to stand out - we wear flashy clothing, have comparatively fluorescent skin (some of us more than others), lighter hair, are often taller, and take up more space when we walk. Additionally, Northern americans will normally take out a camera or cell phone or wallet in public with no strong reservations. In Chile, private conversations were more private - you couldn't here chileans talking loudly from the other end of the micro, as they tend to speak in quieter voices. Additionally, all Chileans took for granted that you do not flaunt expensive possessions in public. Take out a wallet,camera, or cell phone, for that matter OWN one without securing it to your person, is simply asking for it to be stolen.
Germany is similar to North American in these aspects, if not more so... At one point, I was thoroughly convinced that Munich no more than 12 actual Germans, given the sheer amount of backpacks, bikes, and cameras I saw. Not to mention the lighter hair, pale skin and loud voices. Except that most of the voices tend to be speaking in German....Clever tourists, trying to blend in, I thought. No way germans would be comfortable with that level of volume or with taking money out in public. Or were they? That was a revelation in itself....
It's interesting how rapidly "european" habits come back - carrying a wallet loose in my bag, being comfortable with money, taking a camera out in public, speaking in louder tones.... I miss a lot of Chilean culture, though - bartering, the natural beauty of the city, the language, dancing... I miss my families. I miss the ocean terribly. I miss giving kisses as greetings, I miss the everyday interactions I grew accustomed to there - verbal and non-verbal. And I'm sad to feel that all fading away; I feel as if allowing myself to become accustomed to German culture would be a betrayal of my time in Chile, an acceptance of that fading memory.
Germany is similar to North American in these aspects, if not more so... At one point, I was thoroughly convinced that Munich no more than 12 actual Germans, given the sheer amount of backpacks, bikes, and cameras I saw. Not to mention the lighter hair, pale skin and loud voices. Except that most of the voices tend to be speaking in German....Clever tourists, trying to blend in, I thought. No way germans would be comfortable with that level of volume or with taking money out in public. Or were they? That was a revelation in itself....
It's interesting how rapidly "european" habits come back - carrying a wallet loose in my bag, being comfortable with money, taking a camera out in public, speaking in louder tones.... I miss a lot of Chilean culture, though - bartering, the natural beauty of the city, the language, dancing... I miss my families. I miss the ocean terribly. I miss giving kisses as greetings, I miss the everyday interactions I grew accustomed to there - verbal and non-verbal. And I'm sad to feel that all fading away; I feel as if allowing myself to become accustomed to German culture would be a betrayal of my time in Chile, an acceptance of that fading memory.
03 September 2005
Initial Experience: München, Deutschland
Whew. Over a day in Germany and I do not seem to be freaking out yet. Excellent.
Yesterday, I arrived at the airport after a long flight from SF to London and another flight to Munich. When passing through customs, the customs officer asked me something in English with a German accent that I didn't understand, and I instantly replied, "¿cómo?" He repeated the question, asking how long I would be staying in Germany and, eager to make up for slipping into Spanish, answered "la mitad de un mes-er, a couple weeks." Oh yes, this bodes well for the twelve months ahead of me... After getting my baggage, I was picked up by Lenke, one of the people who works with the LC program here, who was really sweet and helpful and speaking in English (I had spent the last hour of my flight from England to Germany trying to remember how to say anything in German that would be particularly useful, but kept falling asleep without coming up with any memory boosts, as the Spanish through customs demonstrates). She showed me my room (single room dorm, with shared kitchen, bathroom and showers, but my own sink and bed/study room) and gave me my orientation information for the program before running off to find the next student at the airport. I managed to unpack and put away everything neatly (Carrie would be so proud) and decorate my room to the best of my abilities given my resources (a sarong and two pretty scarves) before falling asleep at about 5 pm.
This morning, I woke up early (well, 8:30, which I suppose isn't very impressive after over 15 hours of sleep), and pulled out my lovely touristy Lonely Planet book on Bavaria to plan my day. I decided to go to the Marienplatz and walk around from there in the Altstadt (old city) of Munich, where most of the touristy sites are (churches, fountains, really old buildings the like), to get some of my touristy ya-yas out before the program orientation starts on Monday. Before I finished drawing out a copy of the map in the book (because I would rather be caught dead than pull out a tourist book or obvious map in the middle of a city - however, taking pictures of everything that does not display an American flag is acceptable behavior), I had a visit. I didn't know about it at first, I thought it was a fire alarm beeping or something when I heard the doorbell ring; I'm not accustomed to dorms with doorbells. But on the third ring I decided to go see if someone was at the door. As it turns out, it was Jay, a student in my German class from LC. It was exciting to see him, not only because he is the first non-Spanish-speaking LC student I've seen since December, but also because it reminded me that I really am here and will be studying for a year. Yay for studying abroad. Furthermore, of all the students that I saw on the list, I believe that Jay is the only one who was ever in my class. So yay for Katja's 101 students.
After Jay left to go shopping for electrical plug converters, I began my touristy outing to München's Altstadt. For the most part, it was a success: I rode the correct U-Bahns, I took a bunch of pictures, purchased a pesto-like spread, grapes, and a loaf of bread from a farmers market without having to resort to points and grunts (or English), and didn't get lost. In fact, two people asked me for directions (but I had no clue about anything outside of the little route I'd designed for myself, and of course would not pull out a map in public, so I was of no help to them). It's the little things that count, I suppose. I didn't get to see everything I had planned to see because I got tired after the first five hours of wandering in not-particularly-good walking shoes, but will continue my wandering tomorrow (and buy tape so that I can put pretty pictures on the walls of my room).
The only setback of the day came when I slipped into a cellular shop to buy a new SIM card for my cell phone. I would like to preface this mini-story with two facts: (1) I purchased a very nice, rather expensive tri band cell phone in Chile for the specific purpose of continuing to use it when I got to Germany. A single band would have worked just fine in Chile. And the retail lady at the Entel store assured me that I could indeed change SIM cards in the phone without a problem. Foreshadowing, anyone? Read on. (2) Cell phone vocabulary is not exactly in the German curriculum at LC. Back to my attempts to buy a SIM card, which luckily is a cognate in German, Spanish, and English. After a bit of difficulties regarding the card that I wanted (apparently there are multiple versions), and various bits of paperwork, the man who was helping me put the new SIM card in my phone and gave me the new PIN. I entered the PIN number and the phone instantly blocked me. Apparently, my phone does NOT work with any other SIM cards. Not only was I vaguely annoyed (I mean, I can't exactly march back to the store in Valparaíso and demand a refund), but quite confused - what is the point of selling tri-band phones in Chile if they can only use the Chilean SIM card that they start with- which would be single band, and much cheaper. Oh, now I get it... Well, touché, Chileans, as the customers will obviously not discover this until they are in another country. But ARG... One more bit of complaining: this is NOT a rant that translates well into German given my vocabulary. So, after mentally beating myself for sounding so ridiculous, I had to buy a new phone (which will not work with other SIM cards, but at least it was cheap and, as the guy at the cell phone store pointed out, sehr chic). And, upon leaving the store, I think we all know what that guy was thinking: Dume Gringa.
Right. Well, it happens. As I recall, my first attempt to buy a cell phone in Chile sent me straight into my only day of culture shocked bitchiness in my entire semester in Chile, listing on the bus ride home all things Chilean that grated my nerves (first and foremost: incessant honking in traffic jams). Stephanie remembers this lovely episode, I'm sure... So, at least I am not likely to assault anyone who speaks German near me or anything extreme like that.
I will finish the touristy explorations of Munich tomorrow, and then our program orientation starts on Monday. I'm excited about starting! But at the same time, I am definitely worried about the fact that I haven't been able to practice German for a semester... Positive thinking, yeah? And hey, if I'm the most poorly-prepared person here, I'll just have to improve my German that much faster, because those German linguistic courses in the main University are really calling to me for second semester. Sanskrit too... so that will be the contingency plan if my German still sucks at the end of this semester: Sanskrit, Japanese, French, Arabic, and Italian as my courses. No German necessary. I wonder how quickly my advisers would block my e-mail if I seriously suggested that. Maybe Juan would go with it if I took a Spanish literature course...
Yesterday, I arrived at the airport after a long flight from SF to London and another flight to Munich. When passing through customs, the customs officer asked me something in English with a German accent that I didn't understand, and I instantly replied, "¿cómo?" He repeated the question, asking how long I would be staying in Germany and, eager to make up for slipping into Spanish, answered "la mitad de un mes-er, a couple weeks." Oh yes, this bodes well for the twelve months ahead of me... After getting my baggage, I was picked up by Lenke, one of the people who works with the LC program here, who was really sweet and helpful and speaking in English (I had spent the last hour of my flight from England to Germany trying to remember how to say anything in German that would be particularly useful, but kept falling asleep without coming up with any memory boosts, as the Spanish through customs demonstrates). She showed me my room (single room dorm, with shared kitchen, bathroom and showers, but my own sink and bed/study room) and gave me my orientation information for the program before running off to find the next student at the airport. I managed to unpack and put away everything neatly (Carrie would be so proud) and decorate my room to the best of my abilities given my resources (a sarong and two pretty scarves) before falling asleep at about 5 pm.
This morning, I woke up early (well, 8:30, which I suppose isn't very impressive after over 15 hours of sleep), and pulled out my lovely touristy Lonely Planet book on Bavaria to plan my day. I decided to go to the Marienplatz and walk around from there in the Altstadt (old city) of Munich, where most of the touristy sites are (churches, fountains, really old buildings the like), to get some of my touristy ya-yas out before the program orientation starts on Monday. Before I finished drawing out a copy of the map in the book (because I would rather be caught dead than pull out a tourist book or obvious map in the middle of a city - however, taking pictures of everything that does not display an American flag is acceptable behavior), I had a visit. I didn't know about it at first, I thought it was a fire alarm beeping or something when I heard the doorbell ring; I'm not accustomed to dorms with doorbells. But on the third ring I decided to go see if someone was at the door. As it turns out, it was Jay, a student in my German class from LC. It was exciting to see him, not only because he is the first non-Spanish-speaking LC student I've seen since December, but also because it reminded me that I really am here and will be studying for a year. Yay for studying abroad. Furthermore, of all the students that I saw on the list, I believe that Jay is the only one who was ever in my class. So yay for Katja's 101 students.
After Jay left to go shopping for electrical plug converters, I began my touristy outing to München's Altstadt. For the most part, it was a success: I rode the correct U-Bahns, I took a bunch of pictures, purchased a pesto-like spread, grapes, and a loaf of bread from a farmers market without having to resort to points and grunts (or English), and didn't get lost. In fact, two people asked me for directions (but I had no clue about anything outside of the little route I'd designed for myself, and of course would not pull out a map in public, so I was of no help to them). It's the little things that count, I suppose. I didn't get to see everything I had planned to see because I got tired after the first five hours of wandering in not-particularly-good walking shoes, but will continue my wandering tomorrow (and buy tape so that I can put pretty pictures on the walls of my room).
The only setback of the day came when I slipped into a cellular shop to buy a new SIM card for my cell phone. I would like to preface this mini-story with two facts: (1) I purchased a very nice, rather expensive tri band cell phone in Chile for the specific purpose of continuing to use it when I got to Germany. A single band would have worked just fine in Chile. And the retail lady at the Entel store assured me that I could indeed change SIM cards in the phone without a problem. Foreshadowing, anyone? Read on. (2) Cell phone vocabulary is not exactly in the German curriculum at LC. Back to my attempts to buy a SIM card, which luckily is a cognate in German, Spanish, and English. After a bit of difficulties regarding the card that I wanted (apparently there are multiple versions), and various bits of paperwork, the man who was helping me put the new SIM card in my phone and gave me the new PIN. I entered the PIN number and the phone instantly blocked me. Apparently, my phone does NOT work with any other SIM cards. Not only was I vaguely annoyed (I mean, I can't exactly march back to the store in Valparaíso and demand a refund), but quite confused - what is the point of selling tri-band phones in Chile if they can only use the Chilean SIM card that they start with- which would be single band, and much cheaper. Oh, now I get it... Well, touché, Chileans, as the customers will obviously not discover this until they are in another country. But ARG... One more bit of complaining: this is NOT a rant that translates well into German given my vocabulary. So, after mentally beating myself for sounding so ridiculous, I had to buy a new phone (which will not work with other SIM cards, but at least it was cheap and, as the guy at the cell phone store pointed out, sehr chic). And, upon leaving the store, I think we all know what that guy was thinking: Dume Gringa.
Right. Well, it happens. As I recall, my first attempt to buy a cell phone in Chile sent me straight into my only day of culture shocked bitchiness in my entire semester in Chile, listing on the bus ride home all things Chilean that grated my nerves (first and foremost: incessant honking in traffic jams). Stephanie remembers this lovely episode, I'm sure... So, at least I am not likely to assault anyone who speaks German near me or anything extreme like that.
I will finish the touristy explorations of Munich tomorrow, and then our program orientation starts on Monday. I'm excited about starting! But at the same time, I am definitely worried about the fact that I haven't been able to practice German for a semester... Positive thinking, yeah? And hey, if I'm the most poorly-prepared person here, I'll just have to improve my German that much faster, because those German linguistic courses in the main University are really calling to me for second semester. Sanskrit too... so that will be the contingency plan if my German still sucks at the end of this semester: Sanskrit, Japanese, French, Arabic, and Italian as my courses. No German necessary. I wonder how quickly my advisers would block my e-mail if I seriously suggested that. Maybe Juan would go with it if I took a Spanish literature course...
31 August 2005
Pre-departure commentary: Berkeley, California
The month in the US is almost over, and I'm already packed and ready to leave for Germany. Alright, I have to finish packing and clean my room before leaving for the airport at 9 in the morning, but the sentiment remains: I feel like I've had very little time here in California. It is very surreal traveling like this - getting used to a certain place, a specific community and routine, and then packing up and moving to a different country, language, community.. I feel like I have three separate lives: One in Portland, tenuously kept alive by e-mails from the swim team, the LAS list, and Jon Eldridge's constant Opportunities and Announcements updates; one in Berkeley, with Jules and my family; and one in Chile, with Carrie and Stephanie (although she left before I did) and Marcelo and my host family and Steph and Carrie's host families..
Traveling is wearying in many ways. Not from jet-lag or otherwise physical weariness, and not mental weariness from functioning in a non-native language, although both are prominent factors in living abroad. More than anything else, I am emotionally exhausted from having to pull up all my roots and relocate every few months. It is saddening to know that the lives I adopt, the habits and routines I become accustomed to, even most of the relationships created abroad, are all temporary. Certainly, I incorporate foreign-influenced customs and quirks into my life upon returning: Spanish has become my automatic language when I don't understand what someone has said - I don't think we have to read very far into that to find the psychological implications - and the addiction to lemon and salt as a salad dressing (or as a snack) shows no sign of diminishing. And the best friends are always willing to put in the effort to stay in contact, but something always seems to get lost between the boarding gate and baggage claim.
I don't know exactly what is lost, and I don't know exactly what remains, but I know a different person will enter Germany in a couple of days than the person who set foot in Chile six months ago. Jules said once that she thought I was "softer", Martha commented that I seemed more willing to go with the flow, Carrie thinks I go out more often, and Jorge jokes that my dancing has certainly improved. So has my Spanish, as my host family pointed out. I agree with many of these observations, but they aren't what I would have highlighted as the most prominent differences. I am "softer" in the sense that I am older, by more than 6 months, it seems. I feel calmer, perhaps - more relaxed, emotionally wiser, and less self-conscious but at the same time more confident, assertive, and more brutal in my honesty.
Most helpful for my trip to Germany will probably be the decrease in self-consciousness and the increased confidence; I am willing to go exploring alone early on, before my program starts, which I probably would not have done alone in my first week in Chile, although my Spanish was better then than my German is now. As to language skills, I got over a lot of my inhibitions in speaking last semester: I know I am going to stand out as a foreigner, but I won't get any better at speaking if this fact prevents me from speaking at all. So I have a funny accent and limited skills. Well, my German is probably better than the Spanish skills of most Germans, and my English is at least as good as theirs.
(2) Having classes that I (hopefully) have to put some serious thought into besides memorization
(3) Speaking (after learning) German again and
(4) Developing my fourth life
...because what good does it do to look back?
Traveling is wearying in many ways. Not from jet-lag or otherwise physical weariness, and not mental weariness from functioning in a non-native language, although both are prominent factors in living abroad. More than anything else, I am emotionally exhausted from having to pull up all my roots and relocate every few months. It is saddening to know that the lives I adopt, the habits and routines I become accustomed to, even most of the relationships created abroad, are all temporary. Certainly, I incorporate foreign-influenced customs and quirks into my life upon returning: Spanish has become my automatic language when I don't understand what someone has said - I don't think we have to read very far into that to find the psychological implications - and the addiction to lemon and salt as a salad dressing (or as a snack) shows no sign of diminishing. And the best friends are always willing to put in the effort to stay in contact, but something always seems to get lost between the boarding gate and baggage claim.
I don't know exactly what is lost, and I don't know exactly what remains, but I know a different person will enter Germany in a couple of days than the person who set foot in Chile six months ago. Jules said once that she thought I was "softer", Martha commented that I seemed more willing to go with the flow, Carrie thinks I go out more often, and Jorge jokes that my dancing has certainly improved. So has my Spanish, as my host family pointed out. I agree with many of these observations, but they aren't what I would have highlighted as the most prominent differences. I am "softer" in the sense that I am older, by more than 6 months, it seems. I feel calmer, perhaps - more relaxed, emotionally wiser, and less self-conscious but at the same time more confident, assertive, and more brutal in my honesty.
Most helpful for my trip to Germany will probably be the decrease in self-consciousness and the increased confidence; I am willing to go exploring alone early on, before my program starts, which I probably would not have done alone in my first week in Chile, although my Spanish was better then than my German is now. As to language skills, I got over a lot of my inhibitions in speaking last semester: I know I am going to stand out as a foreigner, but I won't get any better at speaking if this fact prevents me from speaking at all. So I have a funny accent and limited skills. Well, my German is probably better than the Spanish skills of most Germans, and my English is at least as good as theirs.
(2) Having classes that I (hopefully) have to put some serious thought into besides memorization
(3) Speaking (after learning) German again and
(4) Developing my fourth life
...because what good does it do to look back?
31 July 2005
Adios, mi corazón: Valparaíso, Chile
The hills, the brightly colored houses, the varying shades of the ocean, the smell of rain on the coast, the family, the micros, the stray dogs, the memorized routes to friends' houses, the dances, the latin time... are only a portion of what I am leaving behind. This is a city of poets, of romance, of emotion. This is a port of lost glory, a coast of eternal beauty. I love this place like a parent, a friend, a sister. I feel numb at the thought of leaving and I cannot fully comprehend that I'm going to return to the states, to that other life that must certainly have paused for six months while I was here.
But that's not the case and Valparaíso won't pause either. These places, communities, are the forces that march heedless through time; I am but a single woman passing through. In this time, Valparaíso has changed my life more than I can articulate and more than I would be comfortable sharing. Because it has altered me so essentially, permeated my life so subtly, if I took the time to pause, to consider, to record in writing exactly how much, I'm afraid that I wouldn't know who I am. Valpo has affected me, but I have had little or no effect on Valpo. I met a tiny portion of its populace, made a few connections, lost others, and have been accepted for the time. But I'm moving on and they're staying. And who's to say how many people will remember me in a month, a year, a decade... How many will be left? How many will I remember? Will I ever forget?
For better or for worse, I have been touched by this country and I don't think that the imprint will ever fully leave. I'm worried that I will never fully recover if I leave this place, if I leave these people, but I'm perhaps more terrified that I will. That I will forget, that they will forget, that I will revert back to whoever I was before I came here. Because I don't want that. I want to carry the memories and images and faces and scars that I gained here and hold them to me, close, forever. Because I hold them close to me now. And it's important that I do so, because if I let go, all the happiness, all the frustrations, all the laughter, all the tears fade away as if they had never happened. And I can't get them back if that happens. Because the situation will be different, the people will be different. And I will be disappointed with the reality, trying in vain to maintain the memory in the present.
I love this place, and I recognize this numbness as separation. I'm separating from this place, from this family, from these memories, and in doing so separating from myself. I'm leaving a part of myself here, perhaps in the hope that when I return, if I return, that part will have preserved Valpo's memory of me, and the same people will remember and be waiting for me still. This way I have the hope of returning, of finding them again, of reuniting with this part of me... Without this hope, I don't think I would get on that plane back to the States. Back to "home"... For a part of me.
Gracias por todo lo que me has dado. Gracias por las sonrisas, por los bailes, por las lágrimas. Gracias por abrir mi corazón a sentir este lugar, a entenderlo, a quererlo. Por mi parte, yo te juro que nunca voy a olvidar. Espero que me recuerdes; espero que me extrañes. Y si sea posible en el futuro que nos reunamos, espero que me esperes. Adios, mi corazón. Que te vaya increíble, Valparaíso.
But that's not the case and Valparaíso won't pause either. These places, communities, are the forces that march heedless through time; I am but a single woman passing through. In this time, Valparaíso has changed my life more than I can articulate and more than I would be comfortable sharing. Because it has altered me so essentially, permeated my life so subtly, if I took the time to pause, to consider, to record in writing exactly how much, I'm afraid that I wouldn't know who I am. Valpo has affected me, but I have had little or no effect on Valpo. I met a tiny portion of its populace, made a few connections, lost others, and have been accepted for the time. But I'm moving on and they're staying. And who's to say how many people will remember me in a month, a year, a decade... How many will be left? How many will I remember? Will I ever forget?
For better or for worse, I have been touched by this country and I don't think that the imprint will ever fully leave. I'm worried that I will never fully recover if I leave this place, if I leave these people, but I'm perhaps more terrified that I will. That I will forget, that they will forget, that I will revert back to whoever I was before I came here. Because I don't want that. I want to carry the memories and images and faces and scars that I gained here and hold them to me, close, forever. Because I hold them close to me now. And it's important that I do so, because if I let go, all the happiness, all the frustrations, all the laughter, all the tears fade away as if they had never happened. And I can't get them back if that happens. Because the situation will be different, the people will be different. And I will be disappointed with the reality, trying in vain to maintain the memory in the present.
I love this place, and I recognize this numbness as separation. I'm separating from this place, from this family, from these memories, and in doing so separating from myself. I'm leaving a part of myself here, perhaps in the hope that when I return, if I return, that part will have preserved Valpo's memory of me, and the same people will remember and be waiting for me still. This way I have the hope of returning, of finding them again, of reuniting with this part of me... Without this hope, I don't think I would get on that plane back to the States. Back to "home"... For a part of me.
Gracias por todo lo que me has dado. Gracias por las sonrisas, por los bailes, por las lágrimas. Gracias por abrir mi corazón a sentir este lugar, a entenderlo, a quererlo. Por mi parte, yo te juro que nunca voy a olvidar. Espero que me recuerdes; espero que me extrañes. Y si sea posible en el futuro que nos reunamos, espero que me esperes. Adios, mi corazón. Que te vaya increíble, Valparaíso.
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