I have been sitting at my computer for hours
trying to write this incredibly articulate post that captures the traveling
spirits I met in twenty four hours while in Montevideo. For a second I thought
I had something good. It was going to be this super inspiring post about traveling,
hostel living, and amazing strangers. Unfortunately my words could not really
do this experience justice. There is no way to describe the feeling my stomach
had speaking in Spanish, English and broken Portuguese to a nomadic twice
Brazilian divorcee over a cup of coffee. I cannot even begin to describe the
relief I received meeting not one, but three New Yorkers all living in Uruguay.
Two of them were 2014 New Paltz grads back packing around the continent. After
moving to Denver and waitressing for a few years, they decided to buy a one way
ticket and pack some camping gear. The
other New Yorker was studying abroad for a semester in Montevideo. While we
chatted on the beach she told me she was going to be spending Thanksgiving in
Buenos Aires with her father and we rapidly swapped names of all of the
sufficient ethnic restaurants we knew in our respected cities. It was light
hearted and sweet. There was this sense of understanding, as if I have not been
the only other person deprived of seasoning. I was comforted by the encounters I had with strangers
having at least two unsolicited conversations about racism in Argentina/
Uruguay initiated by white people. It was unreal. But again, a blog post could not convey what
this experience meant for me.
So instead I wanted to get into the core
encounter. His name is Stanley, a British Millennial living in a developing
hostel in Montevideo. He’s been saving for the last two years back in London
working unflattering jobs and living in a small studio apartment until about
six weeks ago. I was the first native English speaker he had met since his
arrival. It was iconic how within the first ten minutes of our conversation we
did the “How’s Brexit?”. . . “Well how’s Trump?” Superpower period of mourning.
It was as if we both needed to grieve and breathe each other’s English speaking
air before we could reflect on our privileged lives in Uruguay.
Stanley and I got into some heavy conversation
that essentially summarized my Montevideo adventure. We were young, privileged,
and had nothing to lose. Maybe that was anticlimactic for you but accurate none
the less. All day I had been hanging out with girls who just decided to leave
the U.S. and travel around a continent with little to no understanding of the
language. Another girl and I spent ten
minutes complaining about culinary options while standing on a beach in the
middle of November. That evening I listened to two Israeli guys complain about corrupt
police in Paraguay and now I was telling my horror story of having to run
around the city and pay a fine for overstaying my tourist visa that I in
reality probably should not even have. One of the few times that I felt
powerless over this entire three month span was when my passport was not my key
to the world for about three hours. A
British guy woke up and decided that rather than living a boring life in
London, he should do the same thing he was doing there just in Latin America. What
was the worst thing that could happen? There was nothing tying any of us back
to our homeland while at the same time knowing we can always go home if we
wanted.
I like to think of myself as a free spirit but
in reality I am a pretty serious control freak. I had known since I was about
fifteen exactly which college and seminary I would attend. Before I had left
for internship, I created a 60 site spreadsheet for potential Chaplain Residencies
I could pursue when I return. Often times I tend to shrug things off but in
reality I am always trying to plan my future years in advance. Not only so, but
the organization of my planning process has resembled the Americana-influenced,
college then grad school then job. Never would I have ever planned a gap year
or traveling that was not on a vacation schedule. Stanley on the other hand did
everything I didn’t. He did not go to college. He went into the workforce,
moved out of his parent’s house and made a commitment to himself to be happy
with the life he was living. Both of us went two separate paths and ended up in
the same position. Abroad. I realized how much I envied that willingness to not
know and to be willing to receive all that comes your way. I love a plan B, C,
and D. While others around me are living out of book bags and tents.
Unlike the other folk that I
encountered throughout the day, Stanley inquired about my morality as a millennial
missionary. He asked me the traditional questions around the integration of
church and society, more so if we are changing our morals to meet the needs of
society. Of course the topic got on to
homosexuality which then led into having sex without procreation and
reinforcing no sin is greater than the next. The topic itself was nothing substantial but
to me, it was one of the most refreshing conversations I had in a while. Yes, I
have been working in a church setting but very rarely do I get to have
theological conversations with anyone other than pastors. Back in the states I
had these conversations all the time. There was always someone interested in
talking about church and society. So far in Argentina it has been almost
unspoken about. In my opinion, being able to have conversations that reflect an
inclusive theology can have a significant influence on my generation. There is
a reassurance of the church your grandparents used to drag you to may not
actually hate you.
Stanley and I had concluded our
dialogue with talks about immigration and the irony of our freedom to travel
while others are literally dying to leave their homes. Both of us being from
significant cities of large migrant populations, we felt very strongly about
the well-being of our neighbors. I
remember him saying, “I am who I am because of immigrants.” Same Stanley, same.
For a moment we were one in the same as we shared our love for different cultural
dishes, various languages, and our friend’s parents loving us like we were
their own. We grew up in places of curiosity and understanding. Who would I
have become without the cultural richness my city offers? As Superpower
countries, we are guilty of colonizing just about the entire world. We have
waltzed into nations, divided them, raped and pillaged, and left when their
resources became under our control. We acted as puppeteers in countries
removing and replacing leaders as we choose, building terrorist regimes in order
to keep their neighbors in check. Then we abandoned them. Not just nations, but
the people. Then we act high and mighty when others seek refuge in their
abusers. It’s just a bunch of bullocks if you ask me.
I guess you can say my trip to Montevideo was
a success. If you saw in my previous post I had my fill of being a tourist. I
also had the great experience of just being alive. These experiences have
definitely influenced my consciousness and how I bring the story of Jesus
Christ to others. By treading lightly and remembering my privilege, I am also
learning to see the gospel in a new light. As I travel, I carry with me
mujerista and third world feminist theology books to accompany my periods of
reflection. So at times when I slip there is still something to keep me check.
This break from the church reminded me of how fortunate I am and has also
showed me a lot about myself. I am learning. I am growing. I am here.
#ReclaimMissionary
No comments:
Post a Comment