Thursday, October 20, 2011

walk like me

When I was 5, I was a proud owner of a pair of pink, sparkly jellies. I don't remember them being comfortable but they were very fashionable shoes. Then the early 90's ended and the fashions changed and more than just my feet outgrew the jellies. I upgraded myself to normal tennis shoes and then moved on to an absurdly overpriced pair of skater shoes. Also pink, by the way. I don't ever remember being that cool growing up, nor do I remember having an attachment to the color pink, which I have since then sworn off, but at least my feet were in style.

Coming to Paraguay was like entering some sort of weird time warp. I saw people using wells as water sources and plowing their fields with oxen, which I thought fit in my great-grandmothers day, but those same people rode on motorcycles, watched TV’s and texted me with their cell phones. Though they had no clue how to use a computer, at least part of their culture seemed to slightly fit into my generation. I found they listened to American 70’s music and thought it was cool, along with Lady Gaga, Black Eyed Peas, and some awful style of music called reggatone that I could only describe as loud an obnoxious. None of this seemed to fit together. On top of that, I saw people wearing the jellies of my childhood along with spandex. Who knew that 80’s fashion would be popular here in Paraguay?

I moved to Cariy Potrero determined to blend in… well at least as much as a white girl with red hair who has a mastery of 3 Guarani phrases possibly can blend in. Ok, so blending in was admittedly impossible, but I wanted to become as Paraguayan as I possibly could, thinking that maybe they would overlook the red hair and ignorance of Guarani. I adapted myself into the environment. I learned to cook with fire, wash my clothes my hand, use a machete, make foods with pig fat, pluck feathers off a dead chicken, make grunting noises to shoo away animals, and I even faked my Guarani well enough to make people think that I actually spoke it well. I was however still resistant to Paraguayan music and clothing, thinking that my sense of style and my musical interests were far superior.

Several months into my service, one of my good friends showed up in Asuncion with a pair of spandex and I realized that the idea of wearing them had grown on me but I was too chicken to actually try it. She convinced me of their comfortableness and usefulness and I broke down and bought a pair which then sat in my dresser for 2 weeks. When I finally found the guts to put them on in public, I called my friend. “It’s slightly freeing,” I told her. “But I’m still very self conscious about it. I’m worried that everyone is going to make comments about it at my commission meeting.” She admitted, “it’s weird at first. But don’t worry. Spandex are so normal here they won’t say anything. They almost expect you to wear them.” I was still incredibly aware of every angle that my calves, thighs, and butt that were somehow being more pronounced in these amazing pair of new spandex, but my friend was right. No one said a thing about my new style. And Paraguayans make comments about everything new. I had forgotten that they spandex were new to me but not to them. The more comfortable I got showing off my legs in spandex, the more I liked them. They were comfortable, stretchy, lightweight, didn’t stick to you like jeans and could be considered “semi-formal” wear for the campo.

Then my attitude began changing toward that “loud and obnoxious” music called reggatone as well. Even if it wasn’t the best style of music, many songs reminded me of certain people, places or events in Paraguay. And besides, most songs had a really good beat. I bought a couple of cd’s and took them with me on my visit to the states to help me reminisce. I made my friends and family listen to it and being the awesome people that they are they went along with it. My sisters and cousins got so into it that they blasted it on the computer speakers and danced to it in the family room. I almost wished I could take them with me to a Paraguayan fiesta. I started listening to reggatone when I went running and I was actually able to sing along to many of the songs. I even admittedly like the song, “Me enamore de ti por facebook mi amor” (I fell in love with you through facebook my love), not so much because it’s a good song but mostly because it makes me laugh and very few people listen well enough to actually know what he’s saying. I began to feel that Paraguay was influencing me for the better.

I had been eyeing people’s plastic sandals and jellies for a few months, thinking how great they would look on my feet. If I could be confident in spandex, I could be confident in the same shoes I wore when I was 5. Just without sparkles. My friend and I confessed to each other our need for restocking in spandex and interest in new Paraguayan footwear and we went on a shopping spree. The jellies I found were neither pink nor sparkly, but they also have the plus side of being comfortable, unlike my first pair. They are also absolutely and completely awesome. I also might or might not have bought spandex knee shorts and a highlighter yellow striped tank top. I won’t tell you what color the spandex shorts are… or if I really bought them.

I think I’ve achieved integration about as much as I possibly can, minus the mastery of Guarani which I am doubtful would ever happen. I’m not dying my hair black and my skin will never tan darker than the nice dark-white that it achieves in the summer time. Short of that, I believe that my spandex wearing, jellies shoes wearing, and other previously mentioned acquired skills along with my recent addiction to reggatone will make me about as Paraguayan as a white girl can get.