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Post 5: Analyzing Cultural Dimensions

Reflecting on my time in Costa Rica, I have come to understand and appreciate the cultural dimensions of Costa Rica and how they differ from the United States. While US culture has dramatically influenced Costa Rican culture, there are still differences between what Costa Ricans and Americans value and prioritize.

Individualism and a work-centric culture are typical in the United States and take a different shape in Costa Rica. In the US, we cherish our freedom and ability to make a name and live for ourselves. Combining this individual spirit with the prioritization of work by most Americans has led to great success for our country as a whole, as it breeds productivity. In my experience, Costa Ricans generally understand American work culture as hyperfocused on individual success and output, lacking care for the community and other essential elements of life. Costa Ricans expressed their culture as community-oriented and, while still hard-working, less directly focused on the work and success of the individual and more focused on the well-being of a larger community. This may have something to do with the strong sense of identity and belonging among Ticos to Costa Rica and local communities. Many young Costa Ricans expressed a strong desire for money and individual success in their careers, so perhaps US influence continues to creep into Costa Rican culture. Although, I believe there is a necessary mix of career focus and community focus that Costa Ricans do well and Americans could learn from, and the young Ticos very well may have been expressing their desire to perpetuate Costa Rican communitarian culture amid the increasingly international state of businesses and careers.

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Themes, Thoughts and Threads

I would like to emphasize on the fact that the Summer Language Abroad program helped me see other people’s culture from a different perspective. It was beyond what I had imagined before my arrival. I had hoped to learn more about my environment, meet new people and get fully immersed in the culture generally, not only the language. I compared my experiences with stereotypes and other cultures I have experienced in order to comprehend better. For example, the stereotype of French women not being fat is really true. I could count the number of women who looked fat but in actual sense were merely “big”. Also, I can attest to the fact that France, and not just Paris, is a country of love. In the city where I lived, I could see couples everywhere, holding hands, and talking to each other lovingly- most especially during the evenings. The Napoleon Park was also a destination for couples with its kiosk beckoning them to dance.

When compared to American culture, I noticed that the French are stricter when it comes to cutting down on waste and recycling. It is so evident to the point that the government banned the sale of bulbs which consume electricity, in order to reduce the amount of electricity consumed in homes. The list goes on and on, restriction of the use of water, plastics, limitation on the use of nylon bags in stores- most people bring their own shopping bags to the supermarket or malls to make purchases, so they do not get charged for shopping bags.
At the end of my stay, I can confidently say that I have learnt a lot about the city where I lived, and I had picked some values from them. I learnt how to eat their food and appreciate their uniqueness, cut down on my water consumption and became more intentional about recycling wastes. It is indeed an experience that has become a culture.

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Love Letter to Buenos Aires

I thought the beginning of my time in Buenos Aires was amazing, but the first 6 weeks were nothing compared to my last two weeks in Argentina. For my seventh week, my sister and cousin came and visited me! It was such a special experience to get to show them around my current home and share with them some of my favorite experiences. I took them to Delta Tigre, a tango show, and my favorite parilla restaurant. But I also saved a lot of things to do with them for the first time. We visited Colonia, Uruguay with a few of my classmates and even traveled to Iguazu Falls. We spent one day on the Brazilian side of the falls and one day on the Argentinian side. While I found the best view on the Brazilian side, the Argentinian side is far superior, boasting countless hiking paths that allow you to see the falls from the bottom and the top! On the Argentinian side, we also took a ride on “la lancha.” I am not joking when I say that the boat actually went into the falls. We got completely soaked but our wet clothes were far outweighed by the thrill of a lifetime. 

After returning to Argentina and saying goodbye to my family, reality sunk in. I only had one more week in Buenos Aires. The Porteños just have a way of making everyone feel welcome, there is a magic to this city that I am not quite ready to leave. The people in Buenos Aires are very relaxed, despite the conflicts they are experiencing with their economy and pending elections in the fall. The inflation was apparent to me, only being there for 2 months. Across the street from my apartment was a coffee place. When I arrived at the beginning of June, you were able to get a cup of coffee and a pastry for 600 pesos. At the beginning of August, I looked out my window and saw that the sign had been changed. That same deal was now being offered for 700 pesos. But despite these hardships, the people in Argentina seem to always be in a good mood. Having the chance to really interact with the local people through school and the various language exchanges was an eye-opening experience. I plan on taking the lessons I have learned of fortitude and perseverance with me as I travel back to the United States. 

My last week was my favorite week, with some of the highlights including attending a true at-home asado, by invitation of one of my classmates’ host families. We showed up at the house and were surprised to find that our entire dinner was being prepared by five seventeen-year-old boys. They turned out to be incredible cooks, and I was thrilled with the opportunity to practice my Spanish and meet more Porteños. I also had the chance to rent a paddle boat and explore the lake at 3 de Febrero Park in the heart of the city with one of my closest friends I met through school, Dimitri. No matter what time of day it is or what climate the city is experiencing, the park is always filled to the brim with families and adults alike. Countless rollerbladers, runners, or casual strollers circle the lake throughout the day. Seeing the sunset from the water was a memory I won’t ever forget. Every other sunset in my final week, I watched from the roof of my apartment building. 

My last day was the saddest day, but I tried to stay positive throughout. I went to school and said goodbye to all of my classmates and teachers. In tradition, I covered my hand in paint and left my mark on the hallway, proudly signing my name, the date, and my home country. After class, I went to lunch and explored an old antique market, the final thing on my Buenos Aires bucket list. My flight was scheduled for 5:00 AM the following day, which means the driver would pick me up at 1:15 AM. I grabbed a late dinner with my friends around 10:00 PM and after returning to my apartment, we played truco, my new favorite card game, for my remaining hours. When the buzzer to my apartment rang, my heart dropped. My friends walked me out and we hugged each other goodbye. 

In the hour-long taxi ride to the airport, I had time to reflect on the last two months of my life. My time in Buenos Aires skyrocketed through the already high expectations I had set. Because I was able to stay in Buenos Aires for 8 weeks, I truly had time to establish myself in the city. I met locals and engaged with the cultural traditions. I drank mate, played truco, watched tango, and of course advanced my Spanish in a way I thought was only possible in my dreams. But the thing that I will remember most about my summer isn’t going to be the incredible cuisine in Buenos Aires, my trip to Patagonia, or Iguazu Falls. It isn’t going to be the tango show that still plays on repeat in my head or the inside of Teatro Colon. It isn’t going to be the colorful houses of el Caminito, or the bustling center around Obelisco. The thing that is going to stick with me most from my time in Buenos Aires are the friendships I have formed. 

While my time in Buenos Aires comes to an end, my feelings are bittersweet. I am so incredibly thankful for this experience and the generosity of the CSLC. I wouldn’t have traded this past summer for anything! I was exactly where I was meant to be, experiencing the world, meeting new people, and living life to the fullest.

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Keine Sitzplatz

I was taking a train a while ago (about 2 months ago now) from Krakow to Berlin. I had visited Auschwitz, which had been something I had wanted to do for a while. I bought a train ticket that did not have a seat number on it so I took a seat that was not mine. The train ride is fairly long, 9 hours total I think. As I sat down, I asked the woman across from me if I could sit there. She replied “If you have a ticket to sit there.” I showed her my ticket and said “Keine sitzplatz” (which means “No seat.”) She looked at me and just said “Then sit.” The train was mostly empty so I thought it would not be a problem. A few hours later, a man came and said that was his seat. I moved to another seat, thinking the same thing—that man was an exception, the train is mostly empty, I will not be asked to move again. I was wrong. I was asked to move about 5 more times, despite the fact that every time there were seats right by me. My first thought was Polish and Germans are overly strict with their rules, yet sell tickets without seat numbers to some of us. I was frustrated and felt that the folks who had asked me to move were blinded by their own individualistic ideas of what it meant to ride a train. Using the D.I.V.E model allowed me to see something slightly different. Instead of overly stubborn Germans and Poles, I evaluated that perhaps they followed the rules for fear of themselves being pushed out of their seats.

            The description was 6 different people asking me to move seats because they had bought tickets with the seat number corresponding to theirs. I moved each time and, mostly because of the language barrier, rather than emotions, I moved without a fight, without pointing out that there were other seats around us. I cannot verify because I was alone. My evaluation is that perhaps if there was more fluid communication, I could have explained better that there were other seats and that my ticket did not have a seat number. I also think that there was perhaps a fear that if they sat in the wrong seat, they would be taken out of their seat. Since I had presumably bought a cheaper ticket (I guess that is why I did not have an official seat number), there is maybe a sense that if you pay more, your seat is guaranteed.