by Emily Taylor of University of Vermont
Homestays. One week ago, we were all dropped off by the familiarity of our instructors and the comfort of speaking English, into the home of a local family.
On Thursday of last week, we hopped in the black Mazda and left Cochrane and our base camp, Aquasol. We hopped on the Carretera and drove an hour south. I have a bit of a weak stomach—mostly in moving objects (and later in the week in response to beef). I arrived at my homestay quite nauseous but ready to get working.
Let me introduce the cast and crew of this production. Eve Lalumia, of the University of Vermont, and also from the University of Vermont, Ella Doyle, were also headed to homestays with me. Marisol and Nelson, our hosts, live on the Rio Ñadis and the land that they live and work on has been in their family since 1938. Her grandfather bought the estancia, and it passed through Marisol’s mother and on to her. We would come to know soon, how well she knew the land she lived on. Two days before we left, Marisol and Nelson taught us a class, so the three of us had met and gotten to know them a little.
The scenery was picturesque, like nothing I had ever seen before. It is hard to explain the ways the mountains rose around us creating a nook that the estancia sat on. Or the way that snow and ice coated the mountains around us like a blanket and parakeets swarmed around creating their own blanket. The green grass was radiant and the flowers that lined the entrance to the home saturated the image. Greeted by Marisol and a lunch of gnocchi, Cal, our instructor left. The learning curve was sharp with Spanish, and it zapped us of energy rather quickly. When a biker passing through came in to check into the camping area on the estancia Marisol called us “mis hijas por siete dias” which was so lovely and set the tone of our whole week.
I could choose to tell you the slow story of every day we lived with Marisol, all seven of them, or I can tell you the ultimate lessons I learned from engaging in a new culture. I think these are more important, and hopefully, tell a beautiful story too. We woke up in beds to the gleaming sun and the warmth that its radiance carries. Gratitude seeped through the three of us that day. The simplicity of this place and life had a way of forcing us to relax. Eve was the quickest to learn this lesson it seemed, giving into the lifestyle whole heartedly. She was giddy, and like the morning sun, she radiated energy. I was trying hard to pretend at first. It is hard to look back and realized I resisted the transition at first, but I often struggle to relax after too much time on the go. Ella, on this first day was ready to complete tasks and get going and carried this energy through the week, and she even took up knitting again. Since returning she has said ‘Hobbies, me? I don’t have those!’ But Eve and I were there, we know she knitted (Sorry Ella). This slowing down was foreign, and I think that was exactly the goal of sending us here. I read Percy Jackson in one day. Eve was reading Scar Tissue, and Ella was finishing up On Earth we are Briefly Gorgeous. We had to truly let go of everything else to ease into the simplicity of being where we were. A lot of our days were sitting/knitting/reading/staring/talking while passively completing tasks. Much of the time was spent in silence. Finding peace in that silence came with the same challenges of slowing down and letting go. But as I am sure many of you know, silence is never quiet. If you don’t maybe go outside. But there was a beautiful ebb and flow to the way the sounds of nature moved around us. These sounds of silences roped me in. I think on the third day they made me a little giddy and inspired bursts of energy and sing-songy dancing.
What did we do? Oh, great question, is that what this blog is about? Our week of mushroom picking, dinner making, biker chatting, family partying, mate sipping, lana cleaning, vegetable picking, firewood chopping, rumex picking, tinto boiling, craft helping, rose hip collecting, pan baking, mint tea steeping, apple gathering, empenada making, gnocchi rolling, gate fixing, blackberry snacking, lumber gathering, jam simmering, peeling, and cutting, was perfect.
All these tasks we completed throughout the week, I think, were supposed to teach us. I learned more from the way Marisol completed them. She moved through her land like the wind. She always knew where to go, what needed to be done, and a sense of her own time and effort. If you paid enough attention, you would learn something about time. A lifetime on this land gave her a unique knowledge of it. She spoke its language. I only hope to know the land I inhabit this well someday. From now on, I hope to learn from locals.
On the topic of languages, there is no need to spend to much time on my Spanish. It wasn’t great. I often joke, “no se muchas palabras, pero tengo confianza” which is, I don’t know many words, but I have confidence. I have been doing my best to fearlessly practice my Spanish regardless of the possible embarrassment or mistakes. Thanks, dad, for embarrassing me enough as a child that I have no fear. I was told that my humor translated by Eve, which I am positive was a blatant lie. One night, Marisol joked that they had two conejos, or vegetarians, in their home. I (horribly) tried to say, ‘if they are conejos, I am a puma!’ It was a horrible joke, but Marisol and Nelson thought it was hilarious and continued through the week. I often found myself wondering what it would be like to truly joke with them someday. The most used word of the week was “…diccionario?”
A lesson to be learned, this one more personal, is to notice how you might check in, instead of checking out. As someone who can grow easily overwhelmed and frustrated in a place filled with peace was challenging to navigate. I had to consciously check in when I started to feel overwhelmed in my surroundings and adjust so that I would not shut down and miss the beauty of the experience. If I did check out, I had to find a way to reset and that was a great lesson as well.
Another personal anecdote, my homestay was home sickening. As I am sure Ella and Eve can tell you as well, living in a home with the loving presence of a grandmother figure made us miss those who love us the same way. To watch Marisol and Nelson surrounded by their large family on our first full day there made me miss my extended family. I started to notice Marisol’s smile lines were the same ones I have watched form on my own mother’s face. The way Marisol carried herself with such decisive knowledge reminded me of my grandmother. Nelsons blunt humor reminded me of my grandad and his caring attention to detail of my other grandfather. As much as the experience rang of my family, the love alive here and the family connectivity filled me with joy. It is hard to put in words, so I will not try. Love like that must be celebrated. Thus, fiestas. While all the lessons we were meant to learn had come and gone at the end of the week, the lesson that taught me the most, was one of human nature. The tether of the human experience that interconnects all of us like a web, is strong and as alive as ever. Life, in its most beautiful forms, as bliss, love, laughter, and hope, is the same in every language.
