Expat Learns the Argentina Culture! No Small Project!

El Tigre Train Station

One thing I like about this part of the world is the respect that people usually show to each other. It may not always be real, but it is consistent.

The challenge is that, when you are here, you are expected to follow the protocols. If you do not, someone is likely to ceremoniously correct you.

For those of us from the United States, this is not easy. For example, if you were on the street in the U.S. and a stranger walked up and said, “Good afternoon, how are you?” you’d wonder what he was up to, wouldn’t you? And what would be the attitude of the very busy clerk in your power company business office, if you walked up to their window and casually greeted them and asked about their health? Impatience, right?

We all know what the U.S. is like. You don’t bother people with all that. Everyone is short on time. You state your business and get on with it or you are likely to encounter irritation.

Well try to get over that before you arrive in Latin America.

In this part of the world, you have to do the amenities. There isn’t much choice. Some people will not answer you if you don’t.

Every time I have been back in the States and then returned with my son to the southern hemisphere, he has to remind me. If I walk up to someone and ask directions without the preliminaries he says, “Mom, you can’t do that here.” With him, it is as if he flips a switch and changes cultures. Not his slower mother. It always takes me a few days to make the transition. And I can still lapse into old behavior at any time.

But I guarantee you if you don’t get it pretty quickly, the locals will help you. And it will not be their usual, gentle approach either. If you are impolite (by their standards) many will treat you like an unruly child.

Here are some examples. I live on the 6th floor in Buenos Aires. For security, the door to the building is locked. Only residents have a key. If someone comes to see me, personally or on business, they ring the buzzer downstairs for my apartment and wait. I answer, “Hola!” from the apartment. They state their business and, if I am open to the visit, I take the elevator down, unlock the door and greet them on the planta baja (ground floor).

Well I was expecting a package and the postman rang. I told him “Uno momento” (one moment) and I quickly was out the door with my key. But alas, someone else called the elevator first and I had to wait. And whoever it was was not in a hurry to close the door at their floor so that I could use it. When I finally reached the ground floor, I didn’t see the postman at the door. I saw the maintenance man and I said, “I think the postman has left!” as I hurried to the door. The maintenance man said, very pointedly, “Bueno dia, senora! Como estas!” (Good morning, senora! How are you?”) while glaring sternly.

He was making his point. It is unimportant if I miss my package. The only important thing at that moment was to greet him properly. And that would have applied to anyone else present if there had been others. For me it is a challenge to do all that when the postman is getting away with my package!

No matter!

It was only after I had responded appropriately that he let me know that he had taken the package for me from the postman. The lesson was, it doesn’t matter what is happening, the priority is to give him a proper greeting.

In another example, I take a backpack shopping with me a lot. It is so much easier than carrying items in my arms. If I decide to buy a watermelon, for example, no problem getting it home. I just wheel it behind me.

But there is also little trust here--and for good reason. If you carry a container big enough to use to steal, they want it stored in a locker near the front. My backpack is just a little too large for the locker. So, upon entering the store, I stopped briefly to show the security guard that my “mochila” was empty. He told me to “adalante” (go ahead). I said “Okay” and turned. From behind me came this clear, crisp voice in perfect English, “You’re welcome!”

Saying a quick okay is not sufficient. You must say “Thank you” before you move on.

There are expats here who resent this, but I like it. There are things about the culture that I do not like, but this is not one of them. But will it ever become second nature for me as it is with them? As North Americans from the U.S., our focus is on speed and efficiency. It is built in. I sometimes think that in this part of the world, those factors are the least considered.

While being pretty particular about certain things, the people here are also sweet almost to the point of being funny. For example, yesterday I decided to attend an English-speaking church I heard about at Martinez--located on the train route to El Tigre. Martinez is a subdivision of Capitol Federal, Buenos Aires. I had never been there before and was following directions for the first time. I was afraid of missing my stop, missing church, and ending up at El Tigre waiting for another train back. So I asked the man in the next seat on the train if he would help me get off at Martinez. He told me this was not the right train to Martinez.

I really think he just didn’t know where Martinez was. If they don’t know, some of them will tell you anything rather than refuse to help you.

So I got off immediately and went to the ticket agent. He said that it was, indeed, the train to Martinez. He kindly walked back with me to the train and, just inside the door, showed me a map of stops all the way to El Tigre. Martinez was eight train stations from the station where I was boarding.

So I sat down. We were soon under way. After about two stations I decided to go and check the map near the door and read the specific names of the stations en route to Martinez. When I got up to check the map, two people near me said, “Falta! Falta!” (Wrong! Wrong!) and pointed for me to sit back down.

My Spanish is not good enough to explain to them that I was not going to get off. I was only going to read the map. So . . . I obediently sat down.

About two stations further all those people got up and exited the train so I thought; NOW I can go look at the map. I stood up again and a man across the aisle became alarmed and said, “Falta! Falta!” and he, too, pointed for me to sit down.

So . . . sit down I did.

Finally everyone had exited my car but one very attractive lady with long reddish brown hair near the very rear of the car. NOW I can go read the map! Apparently everyone on the entire car knew I was going to Martinez because, as soon as I stood, this lady became alarmed and started calling, “No! Falta! Falta!” and thought I should stay seated. So . . . I sat down again.

A few kilometers later she came and told me it was the next stop.

I never did get to read the map, but I did get off at the right stop—with a LOT of help!

I love it!

Hoping to see you soon—in Latin America!