Gringo

Step 1: My name is Ryan, and I am a gringo...

Yeah, the term encompasses a lot of negative connotations and many consider it to be offensive - but I am a gringo. I always have been.

I don't think I realized that I was a gringo until I began spending time in Latin America. I was born on the Mississippi Gulf Coast, and I always considered myself a southerner until I realized that I am a gringo. When I was 24 years old, I moved to Panama to work for a U.S. real estate developer building a resort on an island off Panama's Caribbean coast. During my first three weeks, the company became engrossed in a strike with a radical labor syndicate called Suntracs. This labor union is well-known in Panama for shutting down streets, burning tires, throwing rocks, and pitting itself against the local police who arrive on the scene to break up the "peacefull protests". The company I worked for had this little golf cart that we often used to cruise around the little town near where we were developing, and one day I found myself headed straight toward a group of protesters marching down the main street. I probably should have just turned around and gone back to the office, but I was on my way to the supermarket to pick up something for lunch. I suppose I was feeling a little cocky, and I just kept driving forward. As the protesters and union reps passed by me, I heard someone yell, "F*ck you, gringo!"

I was excited to tell my co-workers about about my adventure when I arrived back at the office. We gringos really get a kick out of this sort of encounter, and we usually assume that our miraculous adventures in Latin America are completely, 100% original. We drink beer with some local guy, visit or get robbed in a "bad neighborhood", or pay a guy to guide us into the jungle - whatever we do, a gringo likes to think that he/she is the first gringo to do it. Of course, there is nothing better than being invited to a party where you are the only gringo. These make for fantastic Facebook photos and/or blog postings. We accumulate these stories, and then we go to gringo parties where we scoff at other gringos that who have arrived to Latin America more recently. As a gringo who has been in Latin America for several days, weeks, or months, you can be sure that all those other naïve gringos cannot possibly have had the plethora of interesting experiences that you have. My personal preference is to look down on dirty "backpackers". They show up in little Latin American towns, eat avocado and tuna from the can, and spend 2-3 days getting drunk and not showering before finally moving on to some other town where they will criticize U.S. materialism and will not put any money into the local economy. See, it is easy!

That day on the golf-cart was the first time that I was ever called a gringo. I have also been called a gringo as a term of endearment. So, what does it really mean to be a gringo? What I have realized is that I am a gringo because I just don't quite fit in here. I'm not from here; I'm from "allá". I speak Spanish well, I am well-versed in Latin American politics and history, and I eat the local food - but I'm a gringo. I listen to Latin music, date Latin girls, and enjoy watching The Simpsons dubbed in Spanish - but I'm still a gringo. Almost two years ago I moved from Panama to Boston for law school, and guess what... I don't quite fit in there either! After three semesters of law school at BU Law, I'm still a visitor. At some point I'll leave and move to some other place where I won't quite fit in. I suppose it has become a way of life, but I really like it.

Right now I am writing from Buenos Aires, Argentina where I am an exchange student at the national university's law school. Let me tell you, it feels great to be down here again having new adventures. Being "away" for a lengthy period of time, a guy begins to think about things in a different light and develops a perspective that lies somewhere between clarity and naivity. Starting now, I am going to write it all down. After all, its not like something I put on the internet creates a permanent virtual footprint that can come back to haunt me indefinitely. I'm sure I can just erase it all one day when I grow up, get married, and decide to pursue a political career... :-)