Adjustments

No matter how well we feel we may know ourselves: our bodies, our routines, and our minds, it seems this understanding is more opinion than fact. We create ourselves as reflections of our environments, reflections which change like the colors of a lake beneath the passing sky. It is astounding how quickly the mind and body can adapt to new surroundings. In only two weeks what I have always believed to be true about myself has proven flexible. In this time my body, mind, and routine have eagerly acquiesced to my new lifestyle without the forced mental pep talks I had prepared before my arrival. Gradually I have begun to familiarize myself to the sights and sounds of Buenos Aires.

When I lay my head on my pillow, now much closer to morning than night, the sounds of the street are a distant buzz rather than the shrill hum that used to permeate my walls. The honking cars and shrieking colectivos barely cause me to stir. The maze that used to be my city map has transformed into a logically ordered grid of familar avenues. Cars no longer leap at me menacingly on street corners and I have learned to time my hurried street crossings perfectly, even when the walk signal is still red.

There are those who say each city has a rhythm. When I take to the street for my meandering walk to class, the rhythm of Buenos Aires pulses around me. ¨Of course dinner should be at ten o´clock.¨ it whispers, ¨Why would anyone eat any earlier?¨ (Despite the street´s logic I am still ravenous at dinnertime.) ¨Why wake up at 7 am when the night thrives with life?¨ it gently persuades me. In reply, my physical routine, which I always assumed was a biological necessity, seems to slowly succumb to the rhythmic cajoling of the city.

Here there is more time for relaxation and enjoyment. The cafes which line the city streets are continuously filled with porteños sipping hot drinks and pastries. There is a certain sense of urgency among the people on the street, but still they find time for pause. I find myself suddenly relaxed, as if I have untensed my muscles for the first time. My overwhelming cumpulsion to be busy and fear of being more than a few minutes late for an engagement have gently begun to recede. I have already read three novels amidst my daily wanderings and spanish classes.

Yesterday, as I wrote, a brief panic overtook me as I wondered how I would ever return to my hectic life in the States. My last semester at school, graduation, and subsequent transition to the real world will surely keep me busier than I have ever been. But just as I can never remember a song while another one is playing, the rhythm of home escapes me now, and so it should remain.