Acculturation

Those of you that know me well can remember our high flying travel days. Bryan and I were DINKS and we flaunted it. When we could get some time away from our crazy careers, we spent it in some pretty amazing places. In the old days, we would land at the airport and get whisked away in a private car to be tucked away behind the gates of some isolated resort. We rarely saw the outside world. Don’t get me wrong – the beautiful rooms, ironed sheets, lush grounds, private pools and fancy dinners were wonderful and I wouldn’t trade them for the world. I’m still on Aman’s email list but I can’t bear to open them to see what I’m missing.

I took an early retirement to find my second curve and that meant cutting back on luxury travel. It has forced me back out into the real world and I am starting to remember how exciting travel can be again. Instead of private cars, I am taking public transportation or walking whenever I can. I rent apartments in real neighborhoods. I skip the restaurants in western hotels with English menus and search out the best local food I can find. It’s not easy – I often get lost, frustrated, embarrassed and just down right uncomfortable. The whole process of trying to immerse myself in a foreign place can feel overwhelming at times.

Today was a great example. I went for a run this morning – that part is easy. I just found a path along one of the long linear parks in the city and did some laps with my headphones on. I found a Bikram yoga studio that I wanted to visit but I wasn’t able to reserve a class online so I planned to just show up for and hope for the best. Just getting to the studio meant navigating a new metro system and learning and practicing a whole new set of Spanish phrases that would hopefully get me through the door and onto a yoga mat with a minimal amount of humiliation.

So, I gathered my courage and headed out early for the metro station nearby. All the while practicing my new yoga studio phrases. “Necesito una estera para yoga.” “Yo no tengo una reserva.” “Tienes espacio para mi?” The metro was super easy to figure out. It was an impressive piece of engineering buried three stories underground with gleaming white floors and walls. I was impressed at how clean and comfortable it was as I zoomed across town to the neighborhood called Chile Espana. The studio was right across the street from the metro station and I walked in with my held high and tried my new phrases. It worked! The yoga teacher got what I was saying and gracefully welcomed me to the space. I paid, got a mat, told her how long I had been practicing yoga and laid down in the hot room before class. I felt pretty proud of myself and it set me up for an awesome class.

I’ve been doing this type of yoga for almost thirty years now so I can do it regardless of language skills. I’ve even taken a few silent classes (but passed on the naked ones when offered). It was really cool to hear all of the cues in Spanish and I think I learned more in that ninety minutes than I did over two months of Duolingo. As much as I could, I tried to let myself just be immersed in the words without trying to translate everything. It reminded me of how I am traveling now.

It’s a richer feeling to be down in the grit of a place. Walking the streets, taking the buses and trains and navigating the grocery stores. Being absorbed into a new place as much as I can. It reminds me of my first trip to Europe during high school and that sense of awe that I had with travel. Bumming around on trains with no money but so happy to have the chance to see how other people live. It’s true acculturation. Instead of hiding behind the resort gates, I am back to where I started – a renewed sense of wonder spurred by real exposure to a place.

Ok – I’ll admit that I spent a fair amount of time in fine restaurants and fancy museums while I was here. But they were real restaurants with actual locals dining with me. The museums were packed with Chileans and the sidewalks around the beautiful neoclassical style art museums are a jumble of street vendors and hawkers. Santiago is full of incredible energy, great food and interesting people that I might not have seen from the Hilton perched on the hill.