on emotions and language.

If you’ve spent any time with me over the last 30 years, you know I am full of emotions. I experience so many moments of deep deep (tear inducing) laughter. I am the first to cry at a wedding. I love to celebrate the happy moments – new life, promotions, moves – both in my own life and in the lives of people around me. I smile at the small things as I walk down the street in a new city or as I make connections with new friends (read: strangers). I am always the first person to cry in a disagreement. I can be quick to feel frustrated and I am easily offended. I really know how to FEEL things.

And many times I feel frustrated by this fact in itself; that I feel things so deeply. And then I am reminded by sweet people in my life of the blessing that it is to experience the world in this way. I’m still working on loving that part of me.

Based on how deeply I feel, you can imagine how much feeling I’ve done in the last two months (WHAT?!). There have been so many highs, so many happy tears, so many beautiful moments and concurrently so many tough moments, too. And in living at least 90% of my day in Portuguese, I’ve been reflecting so much on the relationship between emotions and language. It’s been an eye-opening, frustrating conversation with myself that I am trying to have from a place of self-love.

I am currently experiencing a HUGE disconnect between my emotions and my language. Here’s an example. I was invited to a churrasco (Brazilian BBQ) last week and I just couldn’t pull it together to go. I’ve been pretty darn good about saying yes to every invitation as I know that’s the only way I’m going to meet people here. But last weekend, I just didn’t want to go meet a bunch of new people. My introvert side caught up with me and even just thinking about putting myself in a social situation put me over the edge. It was nothing against my friend or the nice people I’m sure I would have met. I just didn’t have it in me. And then here’s the frustrating part – the reason I’m writing this post. I just couldn’t find the words to tell my friend who had extended the invite that I just wasn’t up for it. I simply said “I’m sorry, I think I’m going to stay home today.” And that just kills me. I wanted to explain why, I wanted to tell her that I’d still like to be invited to the next barbecue, that sometimes last minute invites are hard for me to accept, that I needed the afternoon to regroup by myself. But I couldn’t find the right words. And that left me feeling a bit empty. Like I wanted to say more – I wanted to explain my emotions.

I’m happy to report that I’ve since redeemed myself and spent this past Saturday afternoon at a churrasco. I even (gasp!) enjoyed myself and I’m proud of myself for getting out there. And then on the topic of emotions – I’m now stuck in a place where I don’t have the words to properly express how appreciative I am of my friend for inviting me into her home to meet people who have been lifelong friends of hers. I don’t have the words to express how fun it is to see how thousands of miles across the world, I can chat with strangers, have shared interests, eat delicious food, and belt out the words to Hey Jude. So I simply said today “Thank you so much for the invite. I had a great time.” It’s just not quite enough.

The best way I can explain this disconnect between my emotions and my current Portuguese language skills is that I feel like a three year old. Full of feelings and emotions and knee deep in experiencing the world and yet short on the actual words to explain all of the waves running through their brain. Have you ever stopped to think about why babies and toddlers cry and laugh so much? It’s because they have not yet developed the language skills to ask for what they need, to process their emotions, to share in their joy with those around them. So that’s how I’ll be here for a while, like a Brazilian toddler, still figuring out all the right words to express myself with those around me.

I know in good time I will have a better ability to process my emotions and share my feelings in Portuguese. Until then, I know there will be more tears (both happy and sad). And for now, I’ll come back here to explore my feelings, I’ll write notes to myself in my phone. I’ll scribble out my feelings on my to-do list. I’ll call those of you at home who have been so supportive and loving and willing to process things with me (in English).

And I will continue to take comfort in knowing that we all, in our own way, are still learning our own language of emotions.

até mais,

mariah

on romanticizing life.

On Monday afternoon, I sat on a bench near a woman practicing tai chi in a relatively secluded corner of Ibirapuera Park (390 acres). On Tuesday afternoon, I passed this same woman on Avenida Liberdade, in the middle of the city’s crowded Japantown, her posture and gait making it clear she was the woman practicing tai chi in Ibirapuera park on Monday afternoon.

On Tuesday afternoon, I spent some time inside of a bookstore in the basement of Sao Paulo’s iconic Edificio Copan, designed by the famous Oscar Niemeyer. In this small bookstore in the heart of the city center, there was a young man browsing the shelves of this bookstore. I noticed him because he, too, appeared to not be from here. Today, I walked into the Museo de Arte São Paulo at the exact same time as this gentleman. We literally walked through two exhibits almost in lock step. Neither of us said anything, but I know it was him.

In both of these encounters, I paused. Chuckled inside. And then thought about how truly crazy these encounters were. 1 in 26 million. I am choosing to believe that these encounters are signs from the universe that I am welcome here. I am choosing to believe that despite the size of this city, the possibilities for connection are endless. I am choosing to believe that each person we come across in this life has an opportunity to impact us, and us, them. And in doing this, I am choosing to romanticize this life.

I’m choosing to smile and laugh and cry at the moments that make my heart swell. Like the brief but fulfilling conversation I had with three older women this afternoon at a coffee shop I stopped at on my way home from the museum. They walked in and couldn’t find a spot for three. “You can use the extra chair from my table, if you need”. They smiled and said thank you as I pulled the extra chair up to the table. “That was so sweet of you” said the woman seated closest to me. I assumed they were in their late seventies and I immediately started eavesdropping. They spoke amongst themselves, wondering what was on the menu. They saw the little QR code on the table and one of the women pulled out her phone. Opened the camera. Took a selfie (or 8) trying to figure out how to pull up the menu. I leaned over and asked if they needed help. She said “Yes, but show me how to do it, I need to learn”. That is something my own grandmother would have said. And something my mom says, frequently. We started chatting and the woman with the phone looked at me and said, “You look so familiar, like someone I know or someone I’ve met before”. I told her I’m new to the city and that was not likely, but that I do get that a lot. I’m choosing to let her comment be a sweet reminder that in each person we come across, we are reminded of someone else in our lives. And we often remind people of loved ones in their lives, too. Isn’t that a beautiful idea? That we are all connected in that simple way – of recognizing someone we care about in everyone we come across. To all of you back home in the US, I see each of you in the people I interact with here on a daily basis and that carries me. Knowing that each of you may be physically far away, but you are also here with me – guiding me in my new journey here in Brazil. 

Some days here are long, some are hard. My language snafus are abundant and my cultural ones, too. But each day has been beautiful in its own special way. In part because I am choosing to romanticize many moments in my new life. And I only wish it didn’t take an international move to do so. But with physical relocation as a catalyst for change, I’m going to romanticize the crap out of each day.

Ate a prossima,

mariah

today is monumental.

I woke up with a ear to ear smile this morning. First of all, I had one of the best nights of sleep since I’ve been here; I hit the hay early last night (12am) and didn’t wake up until about 10:30am. Second of all, for the first time EVER, I had dreams completely in Spanish. I’ve had dreams before where I would mumble Spanish phrases here and there or dreams where I would have short introductory conversations; “Hola, ¿cómo estas? ¿Cómo te llamas? ¿De dónde sos?” etc. But last night I dreamt that I was on vacation and I needed to go to the doctor for something. I walked into the clinic to find the nurse on duty really struggling to breathe; he was really distraught and couldn’t answer any of the questions I was asking him. When I finally got him to admit that something was wrong, he showed me a number to call for medical help. I made the call and (in Spanish) was able to communicate what his symptoms were, where we were and the fact that we needed help immediately.

I don’t remember the exact words or if there was more of a story line before of after my visit to the doctor’s office. But I am excited about that fact that I am dreaming in my second language – a sign, if not of proficiency, at least a sign of my love for this wonderful language in which I am so happily immersed.

lost in translation and loving it.

It’s hard to believe I’ve already been here in Mendoza for a week. Although I can by no means call myself a Mendocina,  I feel a lot more comfortable than I did a week ago when I took my first breath of the brisk Mendoza air. I no longer feel awkward staying in bed until 11:30 (sometimes later), I no longer feel like I have to sneak into the kitchen for a cup of cafe con leche or a spoonful of dulce de leche. And, although I am still somewhat annoyed by the constant stares, honks, whistles, and smooches from strangers acknowledging the fact that I am a ‘rubia‘ (BLONDE.?!), I have come to take them as a compliment and always do my best to overcome these calls of ‘admiration’ by responding to their broken “Hel-low, how rrr you?”‘s and “We hab great pasta here”‘s in NOT so broken castellano, “Gracias, señor pero ya hemos comido”. You should see the looks on their faces.

It’s hard to keep track of all of my painfully hysterical language acquisitions, but they happen quite frequently here. Thankfully, Susy is not shy about correcting me so I’ve learned quite a bit (it’s la sal not el sal when you ask someone to pass the salt, it’s soy yo not aqui estoy yo when you are talking about yourself in a picture).  I can’t help but laugh as I think of the countless times we’ve been sitting at the table and I cannot come up with the words to describe something that seems so simple in English. The other night at dinner, for example, I was trying to explain to Susy ‘common sense’. I couldn’t, for the life of me, come up with the words to describe this seemingly elementary concept. I tried to give her an example, explaining how someone without this ‘thing’ may not think twice about going home in a car with someone they just met while someone with this ‘thing’ would never get in a car with a stranger, especially in a foreign country. What did I learn after I grabbed my Spanish dictionary after 10 painstakingly frustrating minutes? The Spanish equivalent to ‘common sense’ IS in fact it is a DIRECT cognate; sentido común.

This morning at breakfast Susy and I were having a deep life conversation (this happens a lot here, I haven’t figured out if it is just because of the fact that her novio recently passed or if that it just how she is all the time) and I was trying to tell Susy about me being a hopeless romantic. I thought it was going well until I realized that she was calling me just hopeless. Although hopeless may just be the perfect word to describe my life, that’s not exactly what I was going for.

There have been countless other conversations like this where what I have been trying to say has been lost in translation. I try to be funny and that backfires. I try to be sarcastic and I just sound rude. When I try to be serious, they laugh. One of the things that frustrates me most is that I can’t seem to come up with the words show people how sincerely thankful I am. I am truly so appreciative of all that Susy has done for me, but I just can’t seem to find the words to truly describe how thankful I am that she has let me into her house and made me part of her family, especially during such a difficult time  in her life.

I’m sitting here in front of the fire with Susy and her neighbor Celia (one of the most calming people I have ever met in my life) on one of the coldest days of winter here in Mendoza. The temperature hasn’t been above 40 in a few days. They are both knitting and I was, before deciding to finish this blog, working on a friendship bracelet I started back home. I can’t help but think that a short 5 months and 5,577 miles from now, I may likely be doing the same; sitting in front of the fire trying to warm my toes in the middle of a brisk Minnesota winter. It’s amazing how different yet how similar my two lives seem to be. For what I know will not be the last time, I am again somewhat lost in translation; I’m writing this blog in English and speaking with the ladies in Spanish; struggling to converse comfortably in my second language, and sometimes struggling just as much to find the proper words to describe my life here in Mendoza for those of you back home.

It’s been tough, but I LOVE it. What gets me every time is when I seemingly forget BOTH languages. With this, I know I am truly LOST IN TRANSLATION, and may very well be for a long time.

foto del día – 7.26.11

my new room - mi cuarto argentino.

my closet and my desk. my window looks out onto our street.

Here are a couple pictures from my room. I am feeling a little more settled now that I have had a chance to unpack my things. The paintings on the walls were all painted by my host mother who is an artist. At the end of the garden, there is a small room with windows where she often paints. I’ll try and get some pictures of the rest of the house tomorrow.

Also, tonight at dinner I tried to explain the Mall of America to Susy and a couple of her friends who were over for pizza, to no avail. They couldn’t understand why people would be so interested in visiting such a place. The fact that I compared it to a hospital probably didn’t help, but that is beside the point.

¡Hasta Pronto!