Casual Conversations

Nobody wants to feel left out of a conversation or a joke. There’s no worse feeling than that of the outside, but I’ve had to learn to accept that feeling. While living in Buenos Aires, I’ve been left out of casual street conversations, idle banter with cab drivers, small talk in shops and even necessary exchanges between servers and patrons. I never realized how much I enjoyed overhearing a mother caution her child of crossing the street or a server repeatedly describe the restaurant’s specials. Unfortunately, all I hear now is Spanish. Everything is foreign, in the most literal sense, and I’m stuck on the outside.

We went to dinner during my first month here with some of Kelly’s local friends. I met many of the girls when I first arrived, but this was a birthday celebration so the group was much larger. I sat on the plush, white couch at the dinner table flanked by beautiful dark-haired, dark-eyed Argentine girls and couldn’t help but think of the “which of these doesn’t belong” game. It was established early in the night that I could understand “un poco” Spanish and could speak even less. And by “it was established,” I mean it was blatantly obvious by the doe-eyed, overwhelmed look plastered on my pale American face.

Spanish greetings and kisses evolved quickly into Spanish conversations and I became lost. I listened intently to the conversations surrounding me and could pick up little details… I could tell they were talking about traveling, but I didn’t know if they were reminiscing or making plans. I heard her mentioned her boyfriend, but I couldn’t decipher his role in the story. I smiled most of the night and tried to mimic the expression of fellow listeners when appropriate. Occasionally one of the girls would turn to me with an English sentence summarizing the story or, more commonly, a dumbed-down Spanish sentence spoken slowly for me to follow. I would then join the girls in laughter but couldn’t help feeling like I missed the humor in the anecdote. It was said right in front of me and I missed it.

I felt left out, despite the generosity of the Argentines consciously trying to involve me and despite Kelly serving as my translator. I sought solace in the one familiar thing at the table, a Heineken, and thought about how desperately I need to learn Spanish. Fortunately for me, I’m in a country that gives me no choice. I’m looking forward to the day that I can understand the people on the streets, cab drivers, store attendants, waiters and local friends. I'm slowly getting there...very slowly.