A friend of mine was recalling the movie “Lost in Translation” with Bill Murray and Scarlett Johansson. Its one of those movies that have stayed with me for a very long time because I could relate so well to it. Having lived in and traveled to different countries with different cultures and languages not only do I know what it feels like to be a foreigner… the truth is I probably dont know what it feels like not to be.
Some people who have had similar experiences say that it makes it so they never feel at home and others say it makes them feel at home everywhere. For me its a little of both. Growing up I learnt english on the fly at the age of eight. I had lived in Los Angeles for a year but since they had asked my father what language we spoke at home and he had answered truthfully, Spanish, then they put me in a classroom of Mexican Americans. This meant that my exposure to English was about as much as if I had stayed in Colombia.
It frustrated my father that after six months there I couldn’t speak more english than before. So he decided to send me to a private school where I would be forced to learn english. They agreed to accept me on the condition that I spend the summer as part of their summer school and then they would evaluate me at the end. I cant imagine what kind of English I spoke when I started there. But it gave me no choice but to learn. I was the only hispanic of any age there and as you can see, I like to communicate, so I was forced to learn english. And I did.
By the time I got to Fairfield I could speak English with a heavy accent and still made terrible mistakes. I remember being shown a poster for the 42nd Street musical and saying, “fourty-two-nd street…” Boy did the guys have fun laughing at that one…
But I was a quick learner and by the time I was thirteen I had pretty faultless english, though I would complain to my father that I could not be as funny as the other boys because I was just not as quick with the words. I adapted in other ways also. I became a big fan of American sports such as football and basketball, even though soccer was my best sport. And I auditioned for a part in a play at our school, for the Iowa High School Speech competition. Though I have to wonder if I still had an accent, since I was asked to play a Spanish pirate with a heavy accent in our one-act rendition of “Bimbo the Pirate”
So I did a lot of things to integrate. But even then it was not easy to relate completely to my friends. I wasn’t as fond of rough-housing and they were not as eager to fall in love. I was naturally shorter than they were and always felt a little bit inferior because of that. And in many ways, though I tried, I was never into the same kinds of things. I never felt comfortable around the cool kids in my class. Though I must say that one of them made the effort, time after time, when I was too shy to, and remains to this day my best friend, Arjuna.
As time went by, I got an American girl-friend, who became my best friend, and had the opportunity to spend a lot of time with her family. That was the time where I probably felt the most comfortable and at home in the U.S. During those seven years, their love and nourishment gave me something that I never had since my parents separated… a family atmosphere. Her Mother was so caring and nourishing for me, and though I think it took her father a couple of years to adjust to having a little Colombian in the mix, he also took me under his wing and taught me a great many things about life and spirituality. Her brother became my other little brother and her sister my little sister. I got so much love and wisdom from that family that I will never be able to thank them enough for that.
Yet when that relationship ended and I was left as a young adult alone in America, I struggled to find a way to make it feel like home. I struggled to find a way to believe that I fit in to all of it and then I went back to Colombia.
That was another shock altogether, if I was not completely an American, I was most definitely not completely a Colombian. Dont get me wrong, I loved Colombia from the moment I got off the plane. I loved the warm hearts, I loved the happiness that they radiated and I loved the spiciness of life there… But I did not feel totally at home. In my heart I did, but I was so different from all of them and had one additional weakness that I did not have in the states… I looked like them.
Now this might not make sense at first, but the fact that I looked like them but did not behave like them was a huge shock in social situations. It made me weird rather than different. Where a normal American could be excused for failing to dance Salsa well, I would only get funny looks. I was Colombian, I looked Colombian, it was in my blood, every Colombian above the age of eight could dance Salsa… I was expected to be able to dance well. Even when they knew that I had not grown up there, they could never get over that fact. But it was like expecting a chicken to fly just because it has wings.
There were other things as well… Americans are very direct, we like to get to the point, but Colombians, we like to enjoy the moment, nurture the friendship have, a good laugh. In business settings I came across as a jerk, after five minutes of small talk I wanted to get to the real business and this shocked them. When my uncle pointed this out I did my best to adapt. But then it meant hours of jokes and storytelling that might finally culminate in talking business, or it might lead to things getting too late and then having to set up another meeting to try to get some work done. A second meeting that would often have similar results as the first…
And as it turns out, my Spanish, though not that of a foreigner, is so bland that no one can ever tell where I’m from or even if I am Colombian. When I ran for the Senate there in 2006 one of my aides even suggested that I get a speech coach so I could develop a local accent. Though it was determined by my publicist that my accent, or lack of it, helped to tell the compelling story of a Colombian who had everything abroad and came back to Colombia to help his country. Needless to say, I did not win, though I think it had more to do with my dancing than with the accent… 
Now I am in Europe, living in Holland but less than two hundred meters from Germany. Thats another experience altogether. I dont speak either language which is ok because I dont really have a social life there. But when I do go out and interact with people here its clear I am not at home. Most of the Dutch speak pretty good English, so there is no problem there and the Germans, though most dont speak English, are pretty welcoming as well. Yet there is a gap there that is never really bridged. Though I must say that living in Maharishi’s Capital and being around people from all over the world who are working together to spread his knowledge is as close to home as I can probably expect to find in the world.
Yet even here I am asked, “Where are you from?” and I’m always a little stumped and just say, “America”, which in my mind includes both the U.S. and Colombia. Though I am often tempted to just say, “The Global Country of World Peace.”
A good friend of mine here likes to say that I have the mind of an American with the heart of a Colombian. If that is the case, I suppose I am quite fortunate, because I got the best of both worlds.
* Please forgive me but my latin heart insists that I add… that if I am ever with the woman I love, wherever she is will be home…
