When I find myself returning to a place I know that there is something I am learning from it. This can happen for different reasons. There are places that I visited many times in my childhood which always carry with them the ghosts of memories. Other places are haunted by sadness and longing. One place that keeps calling me back is South America, specifically Peru and Colombia. Even MORE specifically, the Amazon Rainforest. There are many reasons to love South America. Obviously. Have you ever tried Peru’s lomo saltado? Stewed meat aside, my love for South America comes from somewhere deeper. I think it comes from what I experience when I am there. There is a slowness that I can’t quite grasp in the United States. Life in Colombia teaches me to slow down. It teaches me that existence itself is enough.
Where in South America?
When I speak of South America I am specifically speaking of Colombia and Peru. There are some reasons why I have hesitated to write about this topic although I feel it deeply. Some cultural aspects are shared by Latin culture in general and not only those two countries. My hesitation to write about this topic also stems from my awareness of my economic privilege. Some of the things that I admire about the culture of theses places is due to poverty rather than choice. I also want to say that these thoughts still feel a bit undefined, a bit hazy. By writing I hope to give them a bit of the form they need to stand on their own two feet. Life in Colombia or Peru feels different than life in the United States.
The Slowness of South America
The slowness that I am speaking of is not literal. If you have been in South America you know that the cars drive fast. Their drivers take liberties with the laws of the road. Road signs are taken to be mere suggestions, swerving around any other vehicle that’s in the way. Daylight begins creeping over the horizon at 5 am, at least in Peru. Morning sounds like bird calls, wild honking and announcements from street vendors. All of these things enchant me, but they aren’t the slowness I am talking about.
When I think of the slowness of South America I mean that the culture itself doesn’t idolize busyness as much as the United States does. I see a culture that values the down time, spending time with friends in the evenings, passing time with family. In the Amazon it feels natural that we should all be still during the hot hours of the day. People spend time resting and reading and taking care of basic needs.
I see a culture in which the entirety of someone’s career could be based on the fact that they own a washer. Someone could make a living washing clothes, but not base their identity on it or be looked down on for it. A person could sell artisanal goods in the street and still be a respected community member.
In the United States I could cook a meal, wash my clothes and keep my space clean and it feels like this labor holds no value because it is unpaid. In South America I see that this type of labor has more potential to be paid, and to be regarded as being worth something whether it is paid or not. Life in Colombia feels like less pressure, and it isn’t only because I am there as a tourist.
The Busyness of the United States
In contrast, when I am in the United States I feel an unrelenting pressure to have more and do more. The unspoken belief seems to be that If you’re not working your ass off you are not worthy of existence. My body physically reacts when I am not working, continuously haunted by this word, “should”.
The culture of America is based on the Protestant work ethic: an idea brought over by the Puritans when they fled Anglican England. Rest, they tell us, has no value. Only those activities that have the capacity to make a profit are worth doing. When I am working I feel extremely stressed crumbling under unrelenting pressure to do ever more. My value as a human being hinges on how my students perform. When I am at work I can never do enough, be good enough.
When I’m in South America I am forced to slow down and let go of all the things I think I need to do to be successful. It’s enough to have coffee or eat a meal, to fold my clothes and place them in neat piles. To just be me.
