Virgina Thomas
Overseas Columnist
As California was drowning and the East Coast was freezing, we Buenos Aires dwellers are tanning. That is, except for this week. Right now we’re on an educational field trip to Calafate, in southern Argentina. And for the first time since summer started, we’re cold. All 60 gazillion of us (Ok, really 60, more or less), are bundled up as we’re camping and hiking in Patagonia. Today we’re oohing and aawing at the picturesque Perito Moreno Glacier, which we’ll be trekking on come Saturday.
Camping, Convo and classes have become more complicated this semester. Our group grew from 38 people last semester to about 60 after Christmas break. It’s a bit of a zoo down here but we’re managing quite well. The new students seem to be adjusting quickly, and us old folks are enjoying finally knowing what we’re doing.
Pepperdine functions have gotten a bit more hectic, but the best part of my Argentine experience is just as amazing as last semester. They’ve taught me “un montón” (a mountain) of Spanish, they’ve offered to pray for me and my family when I was homesick and they woke me up singing “Feliz Cumpleaños” and bringing me breakfast in bed on my birthday. My Argentine family will be fastened in my memory and my heart for the rest of my life.
I’ve heard good, bad and ugly family stories from Pepperdine friends. Some live with big families with siblings, while others have just single madres. Some students call their parents by their first names. As for me, “Fernando” and “Cecilia” would be much too formal. From the day I arrived, my Mamá, Papá and hermanas (sisters) welcomed me like a genuine member of the family. From Spanish girl-talk with my 18-year-old sister Agustina to scolding from my Mamá when I lost a new towel in Brazil, I’m treated like the seventh daughter.
Living with the Rey Merodio family has taught me a wealth about Argentine culture. The approach to parenting is totally different here. I’m going to make a huge generalization and say that the general goal of parenting in America is to teach your children to be independent and live without you. In Argentina, it’s to show them love and support them until they get married. Most Argentines live at home until they tie the knot, sometimes when they’re 30. Moving out before marriage can be a severe insult to parents.
Just a little example of the difference is how I wake up every morning. In America, I’ve had an alarm clock since elementary school. Here, I write my wakeup time on a little note and place it on the kitchen table alongside the notes of my three sisters who live at home. Every morning, Mamá or Papá will knock on my door and tell me buenos dias at the time I wrote.
This experience has made me look at the way I was raised and how I would raise children if and when I have them. I’m not sure what kind of a mom I would be — probably one of a cross-cultural mix. What I do know is that less than three months from now, I’ll be crying as I say goodbye to the joyful, genuine, incredibly loving people I have come to call “mi familia.”
02-02-2005
