The Fifth Sense

I´ve never been an especially touchy person. My family is laughing right now and making comments about dramatic understatements and the century. Throughout my childhood, I was the sort of kid who needed warning before a hug, and got flinchy when someone tried to brush my hair. I don´t think I had legit sensory issues or anything; I just needed mental preparation before physical contact, that´s normal-right? …Ok-so maybe I had some issues…  Anyway, I relaxed a lot during Conserve; got less twitchy, and can now enjoy hugging/being hugged like a normal human being. (Necessary Background Info: CHECK)

I don´t remember the name of the first person I met at school. What I DO remember is that this person put his arm around my shoulder and with his face inches away from mine said: “Hello, I´m (probablysomethinglikejuan). Where are you from? What´s your name? What do you like about México?” I kind of blanked. So much eye-contact! So much touching! I was already stressed out by my lack of Spanish and the prospect of kissing every person I would meet and now this strange boy was expecting a coherent response? I think I eventually managed to translate the “imelenaimnot  frommexicoilikeitinmexicowhenpeopledontsitinmydesk” in my head into something more socially acceptable. But just barely: case in point? I haven´t talk to that guy since and still don´t know his name.

They warned me about this. That at first it would be really awkward to adapt to the different ideas about physical contact and personal space. No one was trying to make me uncomfortable or act weird, it´s just a cultural difference. I KNEW this in my head, but it´s another thing entirely to re-train your initial responses to things. Life lessons like “Don´t kiss strangers” have been sort of ingrained in me, and a plane ride can´t instantly “correct” that.

Actually (and unexpectedly), the cheek-kiss thing hasn´t really fazed me at all. I got used to it quickly, and it´s a nice way to greet someone. It´s also so OBVIOUSLY different that it was easy to remember. I think it´s actually harder to adjust to the more subtle, almost subconscious differences, like eye contact.  Those are the ones I always catch myself on.

At first, when trying to talk to someone, I could work my way across a room as we both tried to politely create a “comfortable” communication space: I shifted onto a back leg, they leaned forward, I took a little half step away, and so on and so on. For me, their “comfortable” was like sitting in the front row of a movie theatre, but they felt like I was shouting across the room.

Obviously everyone here has a different comfort level, space wise. I´m not going to try to say that this entire country acts the same: I have one uncle who is really concerned with germs, and so he doesn´t hug or kiss. Everyone knows this and is just shakes hands with him- no big deal. It´s also not like you greet every person you run into on the street. The “strangers” I talked about earlier are people I was introduced to. I think, in general, that of the five love languages Physical Touch would be at the top of a lot of people´s lists, but I don´t want to exaggerate.

Somehow, I´ve gotten used to it. Of the changes I´ve been noticing in myself, this is one of the most dramatic, yet also one that has happened very slowly and subtly.  It´s like the smell of my host family´s house: The house doesn´t smell bad at all- it was just different. For weeks, every day I would come home after school and think: “This does not smell like my house. This smells like México. I feel homesick.” (Attitude problems much?) But as I got more connected at school and with my family, I entered the house thinking about other things and forgot that it smelled “wrong”. It wasn´t until October that I remembered again that the smell used to make me homesick. That´s a silly example, but I think it´s basically the same process.

I now find myself holding onto people´s arms when I talk to them, braiding other people´s hair without warning, and comfortable sharing desk seats. Ok- I might need a little more time to develop the “Why-sit-next-to-when-you-can-sit-on?” attitude, but we´re getting there. The point is: if my version of “adaption” here is forgetting which things used to make me uncomfortable, I can live with that. When I compare how I saw this place in August to how I see it now, it´s like going from black and white to color. I´m more than willing to change, because if that´s 3.5 months, I can´t imagine how I´ll feel about this city in another seven.