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Disclaimers
This post features my observations of Uruguayan people and culture as a guest, foreigner, and outsider. I am sharing only one individual's limited perspective of Uruguay and Uruguayans. It should not be received as a generalization of culture or people. (This blog, this post, and all related accounts are not an official Department of State publication, and the views and information presented are the Grantee’s and do not represent the Fulbright Program, ECA, the Post, Fulbright Commission, or the host country’s government or institutions.) In Montevideo, Uruguayans live for the weekdays.
At Monday night swing-dance classes, they animatedly arrive between 7:20 and 8:00 p.m., slickly sliding into the jazz choreography in their work or athleisure clothes. After the class ends, they quickly walk or Uber to a bar down the road for elongated dinner and drinks. If you were to stroll La Rambla on a random sunny Tuesday or Wednesday afternoon, you would have to plot your path through the maze of strollers, couples holding hands, and groups of teenagers who nonchalantly traverse the bike path. Everyone has the same idea to picnic at sunset on the coastline grass with their materas, the steam softly billowing from their termo as they pour their next serving of mate. On Thursdays, they depart their homes in the darkness to their weekly book clubs; at 10:00 p.m., they arrive just in time for dinner. And on Fridays, Uruguayans truly come out to play. Restaurants are packed from 6:00 p.m. until 1:00 a.m., from merienda to post-dinner cocktails and desserts. They are experts at indulgence, nurturing their sweet tooth with the same tenderness with which they cradle their mate and termo over unpredictably bumpy bus rides. They live a philosophy of antes muerta que sencilla: dead before simple. I have observed that Uruguayans perceive days as their own 24-hour entities. A weekday is divided into diligent contract hours and mellow afternoons that transition into boisterous evenings at the dinner table with family. Sleep is often sacrificed to foster precious connections. Mondays and Saturdays are weighted equally in opportunity. Instead of idly waiting for a reservation to revive on the weekend, Uruguayans live each day to the fullest. And so, in June, I accepted that magnetic invitation of vitality. June is the coda: the concluding section of the final movement of my story in Montevideo. Therefore, my weekdays at school sites vibrated with emotion, grand performances, and cumulative presentations. I fought with myself to pause, reset, and process through the deafening whirlwind of opportunities. Me sobrecargaba. I overworked myself. But unlike the allegro orchestral pieces I grappled with in high school, I could not practice resetting my bow on my rosin-stained cello strings. I just had to push through and pray my hands would remain steady. Most of my most momentous memories materialized on Mondays—well, and on Tuesdays, Wednesdays, Thursdays, and Fridays. The sections below feature various euphoric career milestones and associated reflections that I now have the privilege of time to write.
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Disclaimer
(This blog, this post, and all related accounts are not an official Department of State publication, and that the views and information presented are the Grantee’s and do not represent the Fulbright Program, ECA, the Post, Fulbright Commission, or the host country’s government or institutions.) I played Dixit for the first time at the Fulbright two-month check-in meeting. This open-ended card game features a collection of stunningly nuanced paintings or drawings on each face. In this version of the game, our coordinator prompted each of us to choose two cards: one that represented a moment of pride or joy and another for a challenge we faced in April or May.
My prideful card depicted a child walking through a forest green hilly landscape under a sunset sky. The child blows bubbles in the shapes of planets into the sky, which rise above the sunset’s borders into the borderless night sky littered with stars. In my card of challenge, a white daisy threatens to crack through the floor of concrete it grows through. The daisy’s stem yanks at the petals; a few are already missing. Two petals float off into the distant, dark cloudy background. What do you think they mean? I’ll give you a moment. . . Just checking in, are you ready? It’s ok. Take your time. I’m not in any rush. Alright, let’s continue. The prideful card signifies blowing out my ideas into existence. Each of the planets represent one project or idea I brought to life in the past two months: a video exchange system with a Spanish immersion school in Duluth, Minnesota, a children’s book guide, swing dance classes, and writing original songs to share with my students. Now, they float out in the universe among the stars. My ideas are strung together, constructing a constellation: a visual synopsis of my contributions and lessons. I hope the impact of this bubble solar system, this constellation, lingers after I depart Montevideo. The card of challenge is a visual representation of the first month settling into a new life in Uruguay. I scoured websites for volunteer opportunities, optimistically messaged contacts about course hours, and leapt out of my comfort zone to visit unfamiliar parts of the city. When I arrived in Montevideo, I was handed a white daisy of possibilities. Each event and bus trip to Ciudad Vieja was a petal. And when those fell through, or I realized the possibility could not blossom into reality, the petal was yanked away by the stem. Yank! Yank! Yank! Yank! One after the other, possibilities stripped away until I was left almost hopeless. Despite my routine misfortune, I kept going out, manifesting new possibilities. My gifted flower displayed layers of petals—it was nowhere near bare. And with time, the stem relinquished its tension on a few petals. The flower of possibility is not in full bloom anymore, but it is still standing strong because now, it is planted in soft soil of trust and relationships, not the crumbling concrete of uncertainty. Dixit was the prelude to a four-hour meeting of reflection and looking forward. As the calendar creeps closer to June, the sun inches closer to the precipice of setting on my time in Montevideo. Time is an illusion, it’s true. The second month passed in a flash. It is taxing to recall everything that occurred in a day. I championed reluctance every evening when I snuggled into my comfortable bed with four layered blankets for warmth. My journal was heavy in my hands, and sometimes picking it up and confronting the next empty page was too much of a chore. I am grateful for the chilly nights when I found the strength to write a bullet-point list of events that transpired. It is a resource I leaned on when crafting this post. And I know I will regret not filling in the spaces of two, three days in between entries when I backtrack back home. That being said, this post is my best attempt at recollection. My journal, “Favorites” photo album, and emotions serve as my comforting guides. So without further ado, here’s a reflection on month two. |
AuthorMeghan Hesterman (she/her) is an aspiring educator, storyteller, and traveler. Through regular posts and commentary, she candidly reflects on her evolution as an educator and young adult. Categories
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