I have been in love with languages and cultures since I started to talk. I spoke my first words in Creole. Apparently I never shut up! I wanted to talk to everyone and anyone. I then learned French in school because it is the language of business and institutions in Haiti. Then I spent elementary school helping my cousin, who was about 6 years older than me, study for her Latin and Spanish classes. When I had the opportunity to study Spanish in school I did and then I went abroad and just fell in love with Spain. I am dying to learn Arabic, Italian and Chinese. And then I think I will be done. In Chinese, I just want to be able to say , “I know it’s hot in here but please don’t sweat in my soup.”
But before I get to China, I’ll probably drive down to Mexico first.
There is something electric about Mexican culture. The defiantly bold colors and patterns in traditional dress and in modern fashion. The liveliness of its music, the passion of its painters and poets.
I was talking to a colleague about said love of languages and cultures when he wished aloud that he too had just been “born with other languages.” Especially Spanish. He wishes he spoke Spanish. I joked that all he had to do was become an undocumented immigrant.
But, according the Census Bureau, 1 out of every 6 Americans is of Hispanic descent. That accounts for about 53 million of us now. More and more we are all running into folks who are not from own backyard. Bienvenidos!
In my opinion that’s a good thing. First, the conversation is immediately more interesting. Second, it gives me an understanding about a world miles away that my actions right here in this country may be affecting. This is not just important on the higher scales of foreign policy and international commerce. It’s important to me on the human level, too. I want to know how the guy who makes my sandals lives in China. I really do. Just as I would want to visit the Italian atelier that makes Bottega Veneta bags. This kind of understanding immediately gives me greater appreciation for their work and there is nothing that fosters harmony between peoples more than respecting each other’s dignity, each other’s contributions.
The easiest way to get in touch with Mexican culture is to eat. The wonderful Mexican restaurant, Oyamel, hosted a two-week squash festival in Washington, D.C. A special menu, of savory and sweet treats, was drawn up with squash blossoms as the special ingredient. I went over and ate and ay, flowers have never tasted so good!
And because I never like to do things half-way I went over the Museum of the Americas afterwards to treat myself to some Mexican art. I am unhappy to report there are fewer pieces that I had expected. But the venue itself is worth a visit, as you can see in the pictures. I imagine this room filled with people sipping margaritas with chips & guacomole. When will they host events in this building?! The vivid blue tiled walls and cobble stone floor remind me of San Cristóbal - a place I have on my to-see list.
