The Lone Streets of Identity Far Far South of the Americas: Chapter 1

In the beginning of my junior year of college, I sat down to write a list that would explain me: who I am, the things I like, the things I’m ashamed of and so forth. From 1 to 52, I wrote every thought that came to me such as #1 Action figures, #27 Momma’s boy, #41 Ankle socks, and #37 Morning person. I saved the file to my computer and haven’t bothered looking at it in many months.

This past Wednesday, I was talking with a group of international exchange students about the differences between me and my host family when I was forced to question the operation of identity in a study abroad experience. I was explaining that, even though the Uruguayan culture has made a lot of changes in my daily lifestyle, many of my character traits are directly contrasting with my environment. For example, I am a morning person who loves breakfast. I wake up with an energetic sort of hunger.

My breakfast in Uruguay: bread (toasted or untoasted), water, juice, and DULCE DE LECHE!!!! (Ignore the flies ... a good source of protein and other valuable nutrients for any aspiring ex-vegetarian anyway)

The example I was using with my international friends was that, in Uruguay, the concept of the energetic morning person doesn’t exist and the idea of having a big breakfast in the morning is even less prevalent (there are of course exceptions to these statements). Uruguayans typically eat dinner between 9 and 10 pm, enjoy socializing activities a short while afterword (this includes the children) and start the next day with little or no breakfast. So when I get up at 5:30 am to eat breakfast and work on homework, it’s something of an oddity for my host family. My host mother also gets up early: around 6:00 am to get ready to go to work. The last few times that I have engaged her in conversation (admittedly a slightly springing, bouncy sort of dialogue exchange on my end) she has responded with a very tired sort of confusion. The following is a translated excerpt from a morning form a few weeks ago:

Host Mother (HM): The steady clapping of slippers announces her journey toward the kitchen in search of coffee. She performs a jumping one-step in retreat upon discovering a crouched figure sitting in the kitchen and holds a hand near her heart. Its 5:45 am. Oh, Andy. Studying already.

Andrew Michael Seifert the First (AMSF): Head flying upward, disconnecting itself from the slough of words printed in Spanish. Hello! Good morning! Yes, I wanted to get up early to work on the homework assignments that I didn’t do over the weekend. But I really like the morning. The best time for me to finish things. How are you? Did you sleep well?

HM: Yes. I’m well. She takes her first opportunity to flap those slippers toward the corner of the long, narrow kitchen and work away at preparing coffee.

AMSF: Still watching her for another response and glancing reluctantly back toward the homework. Awkward. He feels awkward in a kitchen so small. Something must be said. Ready for the day of work?

HM: The tinking of the swirling spoon amidst the coffee and sugar is the most predominant sound. Possibly the only non-sleeping sound in the entire apartment complex. Yes. I believe so.

The short dialogue exchange was a meager example of the immense difference I felt between me and my host mother. It may have been her laid back tone or her tired eyes but I knew that this sort of conversation, and at that hour, were not part of her routine. If that wasn’t evidence enough, the next few time that I woke up at 5:00 am to do homework in the kitchen I could only hear the sounds of the slapping slippers, the trickle of the shower, and the clatter of keys as she left to go to work without a cup of coffee. Conversation successfully evaded.

Quest for identity to be continued in following chapters ...

Falling a Little Late

The sea lions of Cabo Palonio (more explanation later)



Travel Tip 012: Don’t give up on your blog. Writing and reflecting after adventures are the last scintillating nuggets to top a great study abroad experience. You will be busy. You will want to take the next bus to any and every other travel destination possible; to see the white sands, the hand-shaped monument, the vineyard, the Brazilian hospitality, the world renowned waterfalls and then some. But keep writing about them. I am a great example of the downside to keeping up with a blog throughout one’s travels because I let my experiences far exceed my reflections of them.

Because I have failed to post any of my recent experiences in South America, I have a lot to summarize. First, set to the date of April 2nd – 3rd, Cabo Palonio: part national park, part tourist community, and part super small destination sensation, Cabo is another chill summer location known for the fact that it has so little going on. Traveling with three French ladies, three representatives of Germany, and running into three ladies from el país Vasco, Cabio Palonio became exactly the type of adventure we made of it. Some of us went horse-back riding, others trekked through the sand dunes, and one of our party consumed a pizza sized “bomb” made up of sugar coated sweet bread wrapped around oozing dulce de leche, told horror stories about the origination of Cabo beneath a full moon en español, befriended a stray dog, lost and recovered his camera case, and spoke with sea lions (guilty). But whether waking up to a prime quality breakfast in the same hostel that uses beer bottles for landscaping, attempting to get in cover from the rain in a place that has no shelter, or placing one’s self directly in the path of a speeding cuatro y cuatro (open roof vehicle), there was never an empty moment.

Skipping ahead to the following Saturday, April 9th, I found myself traveling to el Cerro del Pan de Azucar with Manue and Ferley from France, Kelsey and Nicole of the United States, and Daniela of Germany. The theme here was la naturaleza >> nature and free space. Finally escaping the condensed streets of Montevideo and evading some of the more typical tourist locations, my friends and I headed to the Indigenous Wildlife Preserve and mountain (actually a hill but “mountain” sounds much more adventurous) of el Pan de Azucar. The base of the mountain was devoted to a zoo: a circuit of cages enclosing mountain cats, alligators, furry pig-like creatures, birds of all shapes and sizes, turtles, badgers, and jaguars. We found the zoo depressing: there were mountain cats pouncing on the corner of their cage, a solitary hare shaking in the corner of its cage, and a massive jaguar prowling a limited, highly restricted hut. However scaling the mountain was an amazing turn toward freedom and coexistence with the la naturaleza. Balancing on mossy tree trunks, scraping my legs up and over rocks, sneaking through a bat cave, and following brightly painted directional markers, I felt like a miniature board piece on a “Find the Buried Treasure” board game. The reward at the top: la vista (view). Panoramic views are much better when they include a long rest on a rock after a quarter day’s climb. We lunched on a variety of awkward snacks like champions.

The top of el Pan de Azucar



I realize this blog is getting a little long so I’m going to wrap up with a brief description of the Iguazu Falls I saw during la semana santa, the Easter holiday between April 14th and April 23rd. I should comments; the Iguazu Falls are a system of massive waterfalls located on the borders of Argentina, Brazil, and Paraguay. Like Niagra Falls but BIGGER and spread out.

Swirling mists of corporeal gas cut toward the end of the world while hidden dragons poke nostrils out of their caves to snort explosive fumes. Water is everywhere in one form or another, enveloping everything within a Petri dish. You feel small. And soggy: soggy rice peering at the long, voluminous, egg-white, and wheat-brown spaghetti strands of water carving straight down, down, down. A constant and inescapable Shhhhh accompanies the moisture like a hail storm. Wet, musky, shining green plants give off a taste of citrus and dew. You will remember the high population of people, the cramped catwalk, the butterflies landing on your arms, the dense humidity, and the urge to free fall.