Gringo Survival Guide

  Once more, I write this blog in a state of unholy fragility. I've spent the whole day lying around like a mess, in and out of consciousness and feeling like the world is, finally, coming to an end. When you go to a BBQ at 2pm on a Saturday afternoon, there is often little evidence to precede such a hangover but, alas, it's happened again. I suspect this may be karma for spending my Friday night laughing at Tottenham Hotspur for a similar sentiment; whatever lessons that past failures have engrained in you, sometimes it's just destined to happen again.

'Bald-head pecking' levels of friendship
can be achieved HERE

  What I want to write about today is life as a solo 'gringo' in a foreign country and city. When I arrived in Brazil - after my two friends had left - I knew nobody. The same can be said about Argentina. I was a young English bloke with no pre-determined platform, just trying to make some mates and have a good time. It's been 300 days since I arrived in Buenos Aires back in July, at which point I was without family, friends and belongings (Air Canada ladies and gentlemen...), but I feel like I've done okay. Many new friends have been made from all corners of the globe and of all social groups and ages.

  Along the way though, I think it's fair to say that I've had to take myself out of my comfort zone. I've had to do some weird stuff, and expand my personality out to lengths that it previously hasn't required or experienced. Before this vague description starts to create mis-leading images in your heads, I'm going to go through a few things that I've been through to give a a taste of life as a gringo in a foreign land.

Be a Bit Weird...

  This isn't as odd as it sounds. By this, I'm talking about social situations that often involve alcohol. As the foreign alien of the group, it is likely that you are going to be the centre of attention. This is great, generally, as everyone takes interest in you and your life, and to be honest you're the guy everyone wants to be mates with. Who doesn't love that kind of attention? Well, sometimes it can go a different way, and the puppet strings start to grow out from your shoulders.

  In Argentina, this often led to a Jack Colman karaoke set. Whether I liked it or not, parties usually ended in me standing in front of a large group of people - of whatever age - singing a range of songs with my god awful voice. After a few Fernet-based drinks, I actually tended to enjoy it more as the show went on, but I think the audience had a contrary reaction. As I've previously written about, this habit once ended in me in a bar singing a few songs in front of 400 Argentinean punters. What was once a nightmare was quickly a reality, but it got me a few free beers so was 100% worth it...

  Here in Brazil, the songbird has been replaced with an extra from Strictly Come Dancing. Every single party I go to here ends in people asking me to try and dance a bit of samba or forró - which I cannot do. However much I warn the that it is a bad idea to get me to dance, the party animal of Brazilians is always the over-riding force. So I do it, and I butcher their poor, unsuspecting culture. If the alcohol levels aren't high enough, it can all get very awkward but luckily this is very rarely an issue. Brazilians love their booze.

  They love their booze so much so that alcohol consumption is one of the easiest ways to their hearts. At a party I once made the mistake of picking 'dare' in a game of truth or dare, and was quickly handed 3/4 glass of cachaça (40% poison). The crowd around me half-winced and half-growled as I took the bloody thing down in one. If being a student teaches you one thing it's how to get a drink down you.

  Whatever strange thing I have to do for the crowd of stick-pokers, it always ends in a positive reaction. However badly you sing or dance or pronounce words or whatever, they love that you're giving it a go. The natural stereotype of English people is that we're closed, stuck-up and boring, and there's few things more satisfying than seeing a load of Argentineans or Brazilians come the realisation that we're actually alright!

Any Party is a Party

  For somebody that arrives in a new place with no friends, any invitation is a social yellow brick road. Just walking around the streets of a city may not bring you particularly successful friendship fruits. The time to meet people are parties, classes, work and the like. The first step to this is the invitation, and no event should be flat-out declined, regardless of the social group involved.

  This is something that I experienced a couple of weeks ago. I had been to a house party a few weeks before and had been contacted afterwards by someone via Facebook. I never actually spoke to them at the party, but they messaged me later on inviting me to another party. Anyway, none of my current mates were going but I had nothing else to do, so that Friday I hopped into an Uber and set off to the party district of São Paulo, Vila Madalena. Midway through the 30 minute journey I stopped and had a moment of realisation. I was going to a party to which I had never met anyone there, on the other side of the world.

Happens to the best of us Ash mate..

  Safe to say I walked into that bar feeling a bit confused. I didn't even know who I was looking for and I stuck out like a sore thumb. Eventually I met my new friends, however, and I had a brilliant night. Obviously the potential was there that the people wouldn't be as warm as they were, but it's Brazil, everyone's friendly! It did make me think though, in England would I ever go to a party without really knowing anyone there? 99/100 times the answer would be no, but here I did it without really thinking.

  It doesn't just have to be parties either. In Argentina I played volleyball two times a week with the mum of my second host family. I never played volleyball in my life before arriving in Campana, yet I left with over 50 hours of the thing under my belt. First of all, it was great to get involved with a sport that wasn't football, and secondly it was a great way to meet new people that I otherwise would have never encountered. The majority of the people there were at least 10 years my senior, but they were a good laugh and welcomed me with open arms. Just had to Nike it and just do it.

... And Just Do the Little Things

  It's the little everyday things that can really make the difference though. As I mentioned earlier, the whole world seems to think that we revolve around our own arseholes, and that British people give time to nobody but themselves. Well, for me, every positive little action that we do goes some distance to amending that misconception. Whether it be an exaggerated smile to a shop attendant or doing a nice thing for someone, it's all a surprise to the locals here that seem to think we'd rather spit on them than do a good deed.

  A good example of this is the experience of taking a taxi. As soon as the drivers see that I'm foreign, they assume that we're going to sit silently, even awkwardly, and look down my nose at them. What I've learned is they're all up for a chat - especially if this is about football - and the first question/comment can go a million miles. I've spent 45 minute cab journeys with drivers that debate with me about the 'Beautiful Game', give me advice about life, or simply ask me about my country and my culture. Almost every experience ended with a firm handshake, a big smile and a mutual exhibition of real respect.

  Obviously, the knowledge of Portuguese that I've developed during my time here is absolute golddust, and without it the social situations can be 1000x harder. If language isn't an option, the most useful thing you have is a smile. Give people a laugh and a grin and they'll respond positively. Often I've found that people like the opportunity to show off their English to you - whether the level of a 5 year old toddler or an Oxford scholar - and from that point on you have a new mate.

If all of this fails - learn how to make a caipirinha. Then you'll have friends for life.

"ALCOHOL IS THE KEY TO EVERYTHING." - Jack Colman, 2017. 

                               

Thanks for reading pessoal.