Lost in a Culture… Come Find Me!

It was a sunny afternoon in Reñaca. After an exhausting session of sand-boarding, we decided to wash off in the Pacific and catch some sun. The sun was unopposed by clouds and illuminated the gorgeous ocean view. We sat, chatting and listening to the waves crash upon the beach when suddenly everyone went quiet. All that could be heard was a parent’s frantic cry for their son, who was lost on the beach.

As the father continued in our direction, he was followed by a wave of claps along the beach. Every person present stopped what they were doing, stood up and began to clap as they looked around the beach. As the father continued down the beach, the wave of claps followed, better coordinated than “The Wave” commonly found at most sporting events. Several minutes later, the father returned, child in arms. I was left with a chill from the tremendous sense of community and care for one another.

Later I asked my friends about the incident. It was explained that the clapping is to signal to everyone that a child is lost; a common occurrence on crowed beaches. Everyone claps to alert others on the beach and help the family find their child.

This is something I could never imagine to see in the US.

It was a warm Saturday evening and I was arriving just as locals were descending on the public pavilion and practicing dance steps.

Within an hour, the spacious dance floor became overflowing with people dancing to tango in a harmonious flow.

Some arrived as couples, some arrived alone. Either way, it was irrelevant; all came to dance. I watched as men wandered in search of their next partner, waiting for the next song to begin. I witnessed occasions in which words were never exchanged, just a simple glance, nod, and embrace followed by a swift move upon the start of the music.

The tango danced was elegant, intimate, and sexy. Absent of over-thinking and analysis, the dancers relied on feel, touch, and flow as most moves were improvised. Many times the female partners danced with eyes closed as they listened to the beat of the music and followed their partners lead.

The event attracted people of all ages, styles, and expertise. Twenty somethings paired with sixty somethings, experts paired with novices. None of it mattered because they all shared a love for the dance. I was enamored! A smile lay sprawled across my faces as I over-looked the pavilion; it was a beautiful thing to see.

It’s easy to find a tango show for 300 pesos, just as one would find a cabaret show in Las Vegas. But this was different. This was a true snapshot of the people of Argentina and their love for life. I was lost in their culture!

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25 and Counting…

After a two countries, two buses, 1 stop and 22 hours, I arrived in Buenos Aires. My 25th birthday was just two days out and I was looking forward to spending it with friends I had made in the city.

Now, I’m 25. If you had asked me 6 months ago what I thought I’d be doing for my 25th birthday, I probably would have said something like go out to dinner with some friends, have a cigar with the boys, meet my friends out at 5th to put down a few Two-Hearteds and party the night away. Never would I have guessed that I’d be in Argentina!

In the past 48 hours, I have been treated to a great home-made breakfast, complete with an orange-mango-coconut smootie, spent the day relaxing by the pool side, sipped on pisco and cola while overlooking the Buenos Aires city-scape, treated to a lavish Argentinian restuarant that would put most American restuarants to shame, and danced until 5a at a typical Buenos Aires disco. Though I´ve missed spending it with my friends back home, it has definitely been a great experience here! Even as I sit now, writing, I’m taking in a classic milonga in a public park, as locals gather to dance tango and enjoy the night. As my Cuban cigar burns slowly, hanging precariously from my index and middle fingers, I take a cool sip of Quilmes beer while tango music sings from the pavillion.

Often times it seems people are depressed by birthdays. I´ve always found that to be curious. It´s amazing how the label of a new age can have a dramatic affect on someone´s mood and emotions. Yesterday is no different than today, 24 is no different than 25. Now you have a few more memories and experiences that define your life.

I suspect some feel as though they haven’t accomplished as much as they would´ve liked or done enough with their lives; they feel as though they´re running out of time. If you would´ve asked me when I was 15 what I´d be doing when I was 25, I thought I would have been a millionaire… maybe at 30!.. 😉

Rather, I feel as though it is a good time to reflect and look forward to the next phase of your life. In the past quarter century, I´ve been a first chair cellist, won several hockey championships and have been named MVP. I´ve loved and lost, I´ve become a licensed real estate agent, bought my first house, learned to SCUBA dive, and jumped out of a plane… twice. I´ve traveled around the US, Spain, Argentina, and Chile. I´ve graduated college with a degree in engineering, started a fraternity, and learned to speak Spanish (in the loosest sense of fluency!) I’ve learned how to ride a motorcycle and bought my first Triumph, been snowboarding in Colorado, and have been paragliding in the Andes… Surely these aren things to be depressed about on the day you turn another year older.

I can only look forward to what´s next. Traveling to other parts of the world, starting my own company, loving and being loved, holding my first child in my arms, and playing with my grand-childeren…

So yes, I´m a quarter century old; half-way through my 20´s (some of the best years of my life). I can only hope to have a few more quarters to live!