Language Learning, Rookie Mistakes, and Che Guevara [FF Vol. 5]
I’m finding a pattern in the questions I’m asked as a “Yankee” traveling in Argentina: Yes, my nickname is Chaz. Sure, if it helps, pronounce it like the game chess… Do you know where Texas is? Oklahoma is the state on top of it… No, I don’t watch the Simpsons (???). Yes, I’m sure your tattoo of Homer drinking maté is very impressive. No, I would not like to see it.
The Reverse Card
Although my plans may change rapidly, it's normally for the best as I've been finding. I’m having a hard time distinguishing what exactly to chalk up my good luck to thus far into my travels. I seriously doubt I’m over-brimming with good karma these days. Maybe I truly am just stumbling upon lucky situations. If that’s the case, I’m due a poor one soon. So, I choose not to believe in that way. Instead, I’ve been practicing the habit of accepting whatever comes to siege my carefully laid plans and the habit of learning to adapt to my new reality. I’ve found dwelling on “what could have been” only distracts me from the present situation I’m in. And then I’m left with nothing gained from either experience.
Crossing from Chile to Argentina on foot (Latitude 46° S between Chile Chico, Chile / Los Antiguos, Argentina)
Thus was the case when I came to terms with the idea that I would do better to pause my Patagonian expedition and turn towards a more (financially) sustainable region. As I watched the Andes shrink away into the great expanse of the Argentinian desert-like tundra, I felt first disappointed and then an overwhelming sense of being lost. I had committed mentally to a certain path through the South. Without that sense of directions, I was now just a dude thousands of kilometers from any city I had ever heard of. Meanwhile, the most overwhelming part was the idea that I could go… anywhere. These moments of infinite options are often the most maddening in long-term travel I find.
Southern Argentina’s interior: nothing for miles
Part by word of mouth, part by spinning through Google Maps for a few days while in Comodoro Rivadavia, and large part by scanning cheap transportation routes, I ended up in Salta, Argentina just days after crossing the nation’s border at Latitude 46° S. And there I stayed for three weeks in the northern dusty city, mere hours from Bolivia and Chile, working in a hostel.
The unremarkable views from the dirt mound in the middle of Comodoro Rivadavia, Argentina
While far from the most glamorous title, I found this stint to be an immense test of my language ability. In the face of checking in Argentinian guests, giving recommendations for the city, and simply passing time with my Spanish-speaking colleagues, I realized a significant jump in my fluency in a matter of days. It’s Salta to which I’ll attribute credit to my new level of bilingual ability.
The Prisamata Gang
This region of Argentina isn’t just distinct from the rest of the massive country, but from anywhere else in the world I’ve visited much less seen a picture of. Red mountains form a disjointed canyon as a single road cuts through the desert plain. Each mountain is shaped sharply and uniquely by winds so strong they have their own name, El Viento del Norte. In this arid and frankly unforgiving region, archaeologists have found mummified human sacrifice victims from the age of the Incas, almost perfectly preserved by the natural elements. It doesn’t quite fit what I would anticipate Argentina to look like. Nor what I’d expect anywhere on Earth to look like for that matter. I wouldn’t have even been shocked if I had passed Matt Damon out in the lunar landscape here filming a sequel to The Martian.
Walking on Mars (Jujuy, Argentina)
Mistakes Are Essential to a Journey
Mistakes can come as a big hit to the traveler's ego. I meet many people that pass from place to place fancying themselves so trained in the ways of budget travel that it’d be laughable to make such a silly error like arriving at the wrong bus station or falling for a scam in the city plaza. I don’t personally enjoy meeting too many of these types of self-righteous travelers. I’ll take a conversation with the guy or gal that just left their country a week ago for the first time ever over the backpacker that tries to inundate me with advice I never asked for just because they spent four days in the Atacama Desert.
Unsolicited advice is uncool advice.
To me, if your trip comes without mistakes, then it’s either laden with too rigid an itinerary or too much internal stress. Especially down here in Latin America, where the culture is to defy Western ideals of timeliness and approach life much more laid back, I fail to see where the faultless voyager operates.
Mistakes are never fun. I know all too well the feeling of my traveler’s ego being smashed to bits in the face of being fleeced out of a quick $100 at the pyramids of Mexico or showing up at the bus station in Córdoba for a 7:00 AM passage only to find all the tickets sold out until 2:00 PM. The thing is, I do feel wiser from these experiences. And I anticipate more to come. No matter how much I travel, I’ll always find myself in a new environment with different norms from the last. It’s part of the journey to be a little out of my element at times. Laughing at myself tends to solve most of my problems. Besides, would it even be a complete trip to South America without a string of protests shuttering a city upon your arrival or without losing a bit of cash to some nimble fingers?
On the side of the road somewhere in the state of Córdoba
A Recipe for Language Learning
In speaking more lately about language learning with other fellow travelers, I’ve realized there are a few common elements that go into how most people develop new language abilities:
Confidence
Perhaps the attribute we all hear most commonly when the topic of language learning arises is confidence. I can’t help but agree that this is imperative to language learning too. Shame comes for all when speaking a language we didn’t use as a child. We utter phrases that don’t make sense, say a word that has a drastically different meaning than we meant to say (pão and pau for my Portuguese-speaking friends), and all around make a fool of ourselves when trying out a new way of speaking. After all, who isn’t embarrassed when they know they possess the thoughts capable of having a grown-up conversation but can only express themselves as a newborn would? Yet, without the failures (mistakes!) in communication, it gets very tricky to learn. Speaking perfectly doesn’t come until we pass the stage of speaking very, very incorrectly. As for the people we speak to? Most native speakers are eager to correct and help a beginner learn. I like to think about the people I meet that speak to me in their fledgling English. I appreciate any and all attempts when someone tries to speak English with me. So why wouldn’t the person on the other side of the conversation not think the same way when I speak their language?
Discipline
Being a native English speaker is both an advantage and a curse. Those who don’t speak it wish they did since English is one of the common tongues of the world. It’s because of this that many English-first speakers I meet believe they need not learn another language. In my experience, it’s relatively possible to find someone that can speak English near you at many a given point. Moreover, those that don’t speak it fluently love to try and practice when they recognize I’m a gringo. Which makes practicing a language like Spanish surprisingly hard at times. Just immersing myself in a language doesn’t equal eventual fluency. It still takes discipline to try. Discipline to resist the urge to communicate a point more clearly in English. Discipline to ask for a switch back to Spanish or Portuguese when the other person is speaking English because they believe I’ll understand clearer. Of course, the key to maintaining this discipline toward a new language is properly rooting the motivation in the first place.
Motivation
Without motivation, language learning goals quickly fade. Speaking different words, with different structure, in different inflections expends energy. I’ve found that the only thing that keeps me learning is my deep-rooted desire to communicate with and learn from the people in this part of the world. Whether it be an interest in rediscovering family roots, an urge to speak with foreign clients in business, or simply a means to flirt with someone from another country, anchor the motivation before starting or risk it fading as the language gets more complicated.
Vocabulary & Grammar
I put this at the bottom because I believe this to be the least important of the four. Yes, vocabulary is essential in order to speak and understand. Without it, we would just be making random noises in sequence. And grammar is a great way to speak at a level higher than that of a toddler. However, I’m finding that most days I’m picking up more and more phrases that I attribute to a certain context rather than to direct translation. Exposed to a language long enough, I believe vocabulary and grammar come the most naturally when focused on strengthening confidence, discipline, and motivation.
La Casa del Che
“History, it is said, is written by the winners. This actually isn’t true. History is written by the people most eager to write it.”
It’s a curious time when visiting the Che Guevara Museum in Alta Gracia, Córdoba. Out of fascination, I made the journey an hour or so from the capital to learn a bit more about the controversial war guerrilla. Reading his famous Motorcycle Diaries during the pandemic developed much of my interest in this continent. Not yet given his nickname “El Che” at the time of taking his first tour around South America on motorcycle La Poderosa II, I have no reservation stating that Ernesto Guevara de la Serna is one of the key figures to have years ago catalyzed this journey I’m on. Knowing his history to be rather… divisive in world politics, I figured it would be interesting to see what the Argentinians had to say about him—and how history would be framed.
El Che’s South American Ride: La Ponderosa II
Not surprisingly, Che Guevara is a hero here. I keep political sentiment to a minimum in this newsletter, so I’ll harbor my take on the honorary Cuban citizen. But the museum here in Alta Gracia, while not overly biased, tends to gloss over the more violent and questionable acts committed by El Che. In an effort to preserve his legacy, the exhibit focuses more on his early years in central Argentina rather than what led to his eventual demise in Bolivia.
One could hardly argue that Che Guevara’s camp was history’s “winner” as James Cochran would put it. Yet, in Alta Gracia, there was someone eager enough to write it as such.
Che Guevara’s childhood home (Alta Gracia, Argentina)
If you enjoyed this edition, be sure to share it with someone. My goal is to have this newsletter reach those interested in traveling unconventionally and long-term, without requiring much cash. Or, at the very least, be an entertaining narrative of times on the road in South America. Either works for me.
Until next time…
