Ushuaia, Argentina: Traveling alone, faraway, afoot, struggling with the language, never knowing what comes next or how it will unfold; it’s not for everyone. I don’t write about the, being alone or contemplating failure with ill conceived or poorly executed plans. Neither do I share much about trying to find a fit when the fit just isn’t there. It’s like going on a blind date: hope for the best but prepare for the worst. My first strategy for hard times or a bad day was exercise. I needed exercise anyway and walking was the universal cure for every ill. Watching people enjoy each other I might have felt a little left out but I didn’t dwell on the feeling. We are social creatures and we need each other but lonely and lonesome are not the same. Some civilized interplay is not only disappointing but also discouraging. I think, seriously, when I’m by myself I’m in very good company. Then I rationalize, who else gets to do what I do? It means I’m different and I take some comfort there. I don’t want to be like someone else. Creature comforts and perceived security that comes with conformity are terribly overrated: obedience is a disease, not a virtue.
So I’m in Patagonia, coming off of a great day, I wake up to several inches of new snow. I picked up my clean clothes on the way home, the night before. Left them beside my bed, folded in a mesh bag on top of my duffle. Living out of a big canvas bag you have to keep reorganizing the contents. Sliding clean pants down the inside all the way to the bottom I was surprised how warm my clothes were. My bag on the floor was like a sponge, soaking up energy from the heated floor. Repositioning clean jeans to the bottom of the bag, I touched the two pound tin of Bariloche chocolate. If my clothing felt warm, the tin full of chocolate felt hot.
“Gestalt” is a clinical term, difficult to define but frequently employed. Generally described using examples rather than defining characteristics, Gestalt is the feeling one experiences with an “Ah-haa” or an “Oh My God” moment. It’s when seemingly unrelated elements are connected in a flash of insight and you make new meaning from it, meaning that was not anticipated. My Gestalt experience was delayed about as long as the lag between engaging the blades on my lawnmower and hearing them roar into action: a split second. Chocolate will melt in your hands, I know that from experience; the better the chocolate the faster it melts. By inference I reasoned; the chocolate tin felt hot to my touch thus, instead of 36 individually wrapped, delicate, delicious, confectionary delights, my candy tin would be occupied by a mass of molten chocolate. Hypothesizing; I considered sitting the tin outside on the frozen window ledge. The contents would solidify but the 36 original pieces would firm up as a solid block. Not only that but the block would be contaminated by as many sheets of waxed paper, dispersed throughout the mass.
I carefully opened the tin. As luck would have it, it had been right side up during the phase change. Chocolate is a good example for demonstrating phase change, the process of changing from gas to liquid to solid or vise versa. In this case it softens to the point where it will over time, take the shape of its container; it will pool but it won’t pour. That’s how I found my candy. I could push my finger down into it with gentle pressure but it wasn’t pudding-sloppy. I had a new dilemma. There was no practical way to restore the gifts I had purchased for my children.”Gestalt !” Another flash of insight. One could in fact return it to the solid phase, simply put it in a cold place. That posed two new problems if you want to think of them as problems. What to do about gifts, and what to do with the 2 Kg. chunk.
I bought the chocolate in Bariloche, the chocolate Mecca of South America which was north of Ushuaia and I had to travel north on my return trip to Santiago. If I reroute through Bariloche, I could buy a second round of chocolate gifts, no one the wiser. It would require an out of the way side trip but then impromptu side trips often yield wonderful surprises. Outside in the cold, the chocolate would lose none of its flavor or texture. Someone would have to dispose of it. My duty was lear and present; I might share a few bites but it was my cross to bear. I could cut it with a knife, into smaller chunks. I could separate chunks into smaller pieces simply by peeling wax paper away from chocolate. It would take at least a week, maybe longer but I had the time.
Actor George Peppard once stared in a TV adventure, action, comedy, “The A Team” where his patented hook line was, “I love it when a plan comes together.” I thought of George as I sat there, with a bite of glorious chocolate on my tongue and scraps for seconds or thirds. You don’t devour that stuff like a mini Snickers bar. You savor small samples, even lick your teeth between bites. My blunder had betrayed itself and left me in a state of Grace. Resupply would have to wait but destroying the evidence required immediate action.
I dropped in at Fireland Institute at lunchtime. Madeleine was happy to see me. She had brought soup and a sandwich for lunch. I had several empanadas in my pocket. She offered instant coffee but I chose water from an upside down water jug that gravity fed to the spigot below. She was interested in grammar; when to use the word “had” with another verb in the past tense. I had to think about it; native speakers don’t usually know what’s coming out of their mouths until they hear it. I supposed the “had” suggest a significant time element between the action and the present. “I had spent my last peso:” It suggests that I spent it some time ago. She was satisfied with that and when Paula came in and agreed, my credibility got a boost. I knew a lady who taught at The English Institute in Santiago who took great pride in her mastery of English. She really worked at it, you could tell she was thinking about the words before she mouthed them. She once tried to tell me about the rest of the faculty saying, “Not many teachers here are English spokers.” Spokers ! Speak and spoke, present and past, room there for a ride up the learning curve. But I understood and that’s what it’s all about, it’s why we do it.
Game night was only a day away and I didn’t have a story list yet. I have two stories I can tell in Spanish but I would be working in English. Still, it opens the way to embellish in the language they do know. The “Turnip” is about an old man who tries to pull up a great turnip from the garden. It won’t come so he enlists help from first one family member and then another, then farm animals, little critters and even insects. The audience has to engage by helping the Teller remember the order in which each helper is incorporated into the story. Words, language; without it we would be thumping on our chests, making “Ooh-ooh” sounds, feeling superior no doubt.
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