Feeling the Culture

It is always exciting to feel as if you have begun to blend into another culture. Here, after one month’s time, that feeling is finally setting in. It takes years to really understand the subtle nuances and complexities of a culture and I think that in most cases, foreigners can probably never really fully be accepted and integrated into a culture in which they did not grow up. But just the other day, I caught a glimpse of feeling as if I were at home here. Our work here at Esperanza is extending credit to those who would normally never have access to it, so that they may become empowered. What made me feel as if I was were able to rid myself of the image of being just another passing tourist? Extension of credit. Twice in one day, actually. In the morning, on my way to work, the panederia (bread shop) was not able to break one of my big bills, instead of rejecting me service they just said to pay them back sometime in the future, not a common move when that dollar could be half a days’ wages.

Some of the guys I have gotten to know along my daily walk to Munoz.

That evening, I stopped by a local internet café to make a couple of calls, as the internet at the office had been down for the day. I had gotten to know Angel (a man), the store manager, after a couple of conversations in previous weeks. While he was able to break the big bill for me, he didn’t have exact change. Instead of employing the usual technique, sell you extra crap you don’t want until it balances out for the change you should have received (which seems to be the common practice here at every super market, conveniently out of change or at least not able to see it in the corner of the register, forcing you to buy an extra dollar of Halls breath mints every time), Angel simply offered to have me pay him some extra the next time I came in.

In both situations the amount was no more than a dollar. Pretty miniscule to us, but as I mentioned before, a lot more to people down here, and more than anything it was the fact that they recognized me, knew I lived in the area, and offered to take a small chance in order to help me out. It wasn’t until just this last week that the moto drivers have receded a bit in their zealous attempts to pick up the business, especially a white guy. Their non-stop whistling, hissing, and yelling to offer a ride has subsided into smiles, offering a hand-shake, or at least kind, one-time offers to take me somewhere. They see me walking the same route every day or in other various parts of the city. After having been here for several weeks now, they recognize me, say hello, or even introduce themselves, rather than flock to take advantage of me.

As I mentioned earlier, I think that it would take years for me to ever truly understand the depth and differences of culture here, but it has been a really good feeling to at least get my feet wet. To feel as if you are shedding the tourist skins that make you into a chunk of juicy meet for every local, and replacing that image with a foreigner who has come to live amongst the people and try to embody their culture, at least for some time, brings an exciting and inspiring sensation of acceptance.