Frustrations and Hilarious Latin Americanness

When you live in the developing world, you begin to notice some big differences - or at least some idiosynrancies that stick out like a sore thumb to American eyes. For example:

Yesterday, the biggest intersection in this, the capital city, was shut down in order to make the world´s longest pizza chain in the world. First of all, you need to understand that when an intersection that big is shut down here, there´s no going around the block, and there´s no u-turning to backtrack and find a way around. Almost all of the streets here are one-way, and there doesn´t tend to be much of a grid to the system. I ended up going 2 miles out of the way the other direction, weaving my way to the airport, and going a back way to the road that comes out on the other side of the world´s longest pizza chain. I found out today that there was no pizza-making actually happening at the event. Nope, they were taping pizzas in delivery boxes together. Something to be proud of indeed.

On a similar note, the only road that goes into my town directly from the city was basically shut down the other day for a Christmas parade. This meant that for most people going into the town (who had no warning or signage to help them out) ended up turning a 20 minute drive into a two hour drive. Bummer. I, fortunately, had some foreknowledge and turned the curse into a blessing - taking yet another backway that loops way out over the top of the mountain the town sits on, around the bend, and down a long road into town. This way turns out be pretty naturey, lacking the smog and smells and noise of most of the rest of this continent (or at least it´s major cities). It also turned out to be the same road I ran up last Wednesday on an hour and a half excursion beyond the city limits. In my half running-half walking it turns out (based on my car´s odometer) that I covered about 9 miles that day. Not bad.

Finally, yesterday there happened to be some kind of revival happening in the streets just a few blocks from my house. I don´t think noise ordinances exist here, and if they do, I´m absolutely certain they're not enforced. Trying to get some Sunday afternoon R & R in my room, I was distracted by the very loud Merengue worship music and some preacher screaming at me (and everyone else within 2 or 3 miles) about Jesus. As much as I love Jesus, I don´t much love anyone screaming at people about him - much less telling people about him when it comes from a desire to "win" souls, rather than as an overflow of our love for friends, family, neighbors, and enemies. I made another blessing out of this cursed yelling and headed uphill to the only green space in my gated community with my guitar, where I was somehow able to get above the all the noise and actually commune with our Lord. How ironic.

And that´s just the kind of lesson you learn in a place like this - feeling far from home and culturally disoriented (because I know that if I grew up here probably all of the above would not really phase me), I can either get frustrated and grumpy (which I´ve done plenty of), or I can adjust and make the most of things. I´m learning to do the latter more and more. Forget how you thought it would be, forget your plan, forget wishing it was different, forget what it´s like at home - and make the most of it. I can´t imagine how potent those lessons may be by the time I´ve been here for 6 more months and begin transitioning home. I´m sure I´ll feel some cultural dizzyness there too.