Every so often the tiniest sliver of information penetrates my Patagonian bubble and reminds me that the world is still out there and, yes, it’s still churning. Sometimes it’s the newest pop song. Sometimes it’s forwarded article from an online news source. Sometimes it’s a brief online chat with a friend. But mostly it’s word-of-mouth hearsay and requires some filtering.
Apparently there was some economic crisis. And then a SWINE flu. Lady Gaga emerged and conquered even my heart. The Gulf of Mexico experienced a catastrophic oil spill. And now a murmuring has reached my ear about… illegal immigrants and undocumented workers.
This may, in fact, be very old news to most of you, but keep in mind that that information has to travel many many thousands of kilometers to Bariloche and then fightfightfight for my attention. And normally I don’t really give it more than a few moment’s thought, but this time it caught my attention and held it.
Why?
Because for the first time in my life I am an illegal immigrant and an undocumented worker.
Yikes.
But honestly it‘s not as bad as it sounds.
What does it mean exactly? Technically I’m a tourist. Well, there’s a tourist visa stamped in my passport anyway. With my tourist visa I am limited to how long I can stay and what I can do here in Argentina. Are laws here strictly enforced? No, it’s Argentina.
I could conceivably get residency and working papers, but the Argentine government has made it confusing, time-consuming, and expensive to do so. I just don’t find it worth my time, money and effort. Especially since I’m not sure how long I’m actually going to stay and…well, there are loop holes in the system. Keeping things in perspective, obtaining even the tourist visa for the US is a hundred thousand times more difficult, time consuming and expensive. Not to mention the residency and working papers. A nightmare.
Yes, every time my 3-month tourist visa expires I perform an emergency border crossing ritual. Yes, I have to run and hide from work-permit inspectors. No, I don’t have the same rights as Argentines. No, I don’t get paid nearly what I deserve. And it’s taken some getting used to, but honestly I can’t complain.
I’ve been in Argentina for almost two years now. Wow. It was never my intention to live here in Bariloche nor stay for as long as I have. But life takes us in unexpected directions. And I’m super okay with it. I’ve learned lessons I’d only dreamed of learning. I’ve lived experiences I’d only dreamed of living. I’m very very very happy. Through the ups and downs, I’ve gained an explicable understanding of life and its workings that probably wouldn’t have been possible if I had stubbornly followed my original plan to the detail. Life is about being flexible, but with a direction. Have a goal, but keep an open mind as in how you get there. I’ve gained a peace, an acceptance, a happiness from all that I’ve been through.
And it hasn’t been all smiles. There have been some valleys in between the hills. But the secret is to learn to navigate those valleys. Machete in hand, carve your own path, learn from mistakes, and look up at the sun and… laugh.
From the seemingly endless apartment search, to the thirteen-hour work days without a single day off in sight, from no residency or work papers, to figuring out that things just work a little differently down here… it’s been a journey.
And this whole experience has given me a whole lotta perspective. I remember, in the States, working alongside undocumented workers. And without a doubt our experiences are very very different. But I give them props. Going to a different country, not speaking the language, not having any contacts, not having a centavo in your pocket, and having to start from absolute zero… it’s tough. Very tough. Tougher than we can imagine.
Picture for a moment, if you will, leaving everything you’ve ever known, saying goodbye to everyone you’re close to, taking with you only the most basic of basic necessities. And moving to another country where you don’t speak the language, you don’t relate with the culture, you don’t find comfort in the local food, you don’t have more than a few coins in your pocket, you need to find an inexpensive place to live and a decent job, and you don’t know a single person. It can be very very scary.
And, yes, they are taking jobs. And, yes, they are agreeing to work for much less than an American citizen. But when desperation knocks on your door, it is nearly impossible to say no. Do you really think that they find joy in their sub-par living conditions? The will to survive drives us all to do things we would ordinarily not even conceive of saying yes to. Like working extreme hours for an obscene paycheck. Like living in unlivable conditions, just because it’s affordable. Like being insulted, humiliated, dehumanized. All just to provide a better life for loved ones. But…placed in the same situation, would you not do the same?
The Argentine labor unions hate people like me. I come in and work for next to nothing and take jobs from qualified Argentines. But I have to pay rent and I have to eat. And I work hard. And I do my job well. I don’t have family here to lean on if I get into financial trouble. So I work whatever I find… to sustain a very modest life… and to plan for my next international adventure.
And of course I didn’t move down to Argentina for the economic possibilities… because that would be silly. I came here because the idea was planted on one day in rainy Seattle and I took it seriously. I stayed because, well, Argentina has hooked me. And if I am to see the country from the eyes of the locals, the sacrifices I make are nothing compared to the lessons I learn. And I have learned some damn important lessons.
In closing, I know that one day I will return to the grand US of A if only to visit before my next adventure. I know that everything I live, every experience I have, every person’s story I’ve heard, is now a part of me. It has molded me and become a part of me. We are forever growing as we accumulate life experiences. It is our choice what experiences we encounter and I chose all of the above.
I am a more well-rounded, mature, happy individual from all this traveling I do. The things I’ve seen, tasted, smelled, felt, heard, learnt and especially the people I’ve met are indescribably indispensable. And I'll continue to put myself in unimaginable situations, if only to push the boundaries of what is possible.That, to me, is life.
And why let life and all its glorious adventures pass us by? Let's live!
Haha. I’ve been called ‘crazy’ by countless people in many languages across many continents… and I just smile. Normal must be all sorts of boring. I want nothing to do with it.
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