My Necessity to Go to the Store, Often Without Need

Yesterday I arrived to my town after an absence of nearly a month, and everyone knew it. “Llego Paul” (Paul arrived) they say to their buddies or proclaim aloud as they wave to me passing by on my bicycle. All it takes is a walk to the store to alert what seems like the whole town that I have returned from wherever, and for my family, neighbors, and counterparts to continue where we left off. In towns where chisme (gossip) spreads like wild fire so do other topics of conversation and they do so in public squares, face to face, and the topic of the day is very much the “here and now”.

I bike to the local store not only out of necessity for groceries but also to figure out when my soccer team plays on Sunday, to congratulate high school seniors for graduating, and to open myself up to whatever invite, conversation, or pastime comes my way. Obtaining such information through other means is difficult at best and impossible at worst. I use to consider my host mom's daily trip to the store to a buy box of matches, or a bar of soap, or anything really, as short-sighted and a poor use of time. This is probably why I was always out of the loop. Through running errands or taking random strolls around the block, other meaningful opportunities are made possible. Therefore, a volunteer's physical presence in town is like an on/off switch for “work” and other general community participation.

I’m not sure whether this is a cause or an effect of other customs in the small towns in which we (PCVs) live, but the close proximity and publicness of discourse are defining characteristic nonetheless. Here, neither text messages, Face Time, nor phone calls have yet replaced physical proximity as the most telling form of communication, which has, throughout the history of humankind, has allowed affinity between us. The most meaningful communication still takes place face-to-face even though Internet coverage and smart phone usage has been steadily increasing.

The world outside my door is a Costeño. Only by being here can I experience the colorful vallenato music, cordial conversations in Spanish, and smells of my host mom’s sancocho creeping into my bedroom. After all, I did not come to Colombia to take part in my community online, quite the opposite. I have adapted, slowly but surely, to this “here and now”, face-to-face, life. I am often met with polite disbelief when I explain to HCN (host country nationals) that I have maintained close relationships with my parents over the past 10 years, despite not living in the same city.

My public square is my Facebook feed and Whatsapp call history. Where I come from it is expected that relationships be built and/or maintained virtually, from afar. However, recognition of, and adaptation to, the premium placed on unmediated communication is a cross-cultural difference that has afforded me a more meaningful and fulfilling service, in a new this culture.