Despite signing several written commitments to speak the language of my study abroad country at all times, I, like many American students who study abroad, tend to speak English with my fellow countrymen.
Fortunately, we are not the only foreign students who fall into this convenience trap. In one of my classes, for example, I am accustomed to hearing German, French, English, and Portuguese alongside Spanish. In fact, upon listening to me speak Spanish with another American student, a Brazilian asked why we were not speaking the world’s current lingua franca.
This is typically not the attitude that meets study abroad students when they are not speaking their host country’s dominant language in public. It is certainly not the case in Latin America, where people speaking anything other than Spanish or Portuguese are often met with not-so-discreet stares, as if they are extraterrestrial beings.
I call this phenomenon La Mirada, roughly translated as “the look” or “the gaze.” Perhaps this is limited to the Porteño population of Buenos Aires, a people who are most certainly not known for their tact. I learned this very quickly when I wore flip-flops on an unusually warm winter day in July and was quickly made the subject of stares, pointing, and even a few snickers.
La Mirada can be a tricky spectacle to avoid as a foreigner! You happen to encounter it anywhere you go, whether you are riding in some form of public transportation, walking down the street, or even just sitting casually in a bar or café. It is especially startling when administered by the elderly, who proceed to yell and ask your nationality, or young children, who instantly point out your social taboos and ask their parents why you’re speaking “so funny.”
What is especially troubling about La Mirada is that it seems to engulf everyone, including non-Argentines, into its uncontrollable grasp. I can recall several occurrences in which I too have fearlessly stared, only to be surprised by La Mirada’s influence on my behavior. Since Argentina is the second most visited country in South America, several tourists flow in and out of this cultural hub. It is therefore not uncommon to hear a variety of European or Asian languages being spoken in various parts of Buenos Aires at any given time of the year.
The one thing that guidebooks do not tell you, however, is that not speaking Spanish is frowned upon in most contexts. The fact that it is acceptable for my Latin American Government and Politics professor to use a plethora of English words during his lecture, yet unacceptable for me to have a 15-second telephone conversation in English on the subway, still baffles me.
The conclusions I have reached so far regarding La Mirada are only tentative. Argentina currently finds itself in a precarious situation, as the twenty-first century continues to simultaneously unite countries economically, while polarizing them culturally. Kirchnerism’s rejection of the globalism and neoliberalism that dominated the 1990s is becoming increasingly popular in the minds of most Argentines.
As a constant reminder of this position, the words Industria Argentina are printed largely on most domestic products. Even the country’s Latin American neighbors have difficulty competing with internal production despite calls for greater latinidad. For instance, Mexican-made Corona bottles typically sell at triple to quadruple the price of the national beer, Quilmes, even though open trade would certainly cut these large disparities.
Living in this somewhat autarkic culture, however, can often be misleading. Argentines, and Porteños especially, still take pride in their European roots. Being able to speak an array of languages from the Continent remains an invaluable asset in various socioeconomic contexts in Latin America.
Street signs, business names, and several other publications contain influences—if not actual words—from French, English, and Italian. Nevertheless, these names must always be pronounced with a Spanish accent. Failure to do so creates misunderstanding for foreigners and embarrassment for locals.
In my shorter-than-expected four months living in Buenos Aires, I have concluded that La Mirada is just one manifestation of Argentina’s reticence to bend to the international forces that are constantly knocking at her door. Once the eighth largest economy in the world, Argentina continues to confront both the memory of her past superiority and the more recent legacies of authoritarianism and economic decline. Until both of these competing visions are reconciled, I assume that La Mirada will continue to evaluate all foreign influences within Argentine society with a certain degree of skepticism.
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