A story:
This past Tuesday I'm sitting in my Argentine Fiction class, and we're reading a story outloud about a man whose mother was kidnapped and secuestered during the military dictatorship. He's looking for information about her and everytime he learns something he gets drunk to deal with it. In the end of the story he ends up drunk in a Chinese supermarket, which are all over Buenos Aires, communicating without words with the Chinese owner.*
At this point my professor says "it's awkward because the Chinese are so weird, don't you think? They're so odd. You can never understand what they're saying. And those eyes!" My class is only foreign students, so we're looking around at each other, stunned at the bluntness of our professor's comments.
He keeps going: "there are also Koreans too, but I can never tell them apart. They all have supermarkets and restaurants, that's all they do here. Their supermarkets aren't even that nice. I'd never want to get drunk there."
I'm actually paraphrasing what my professor said, but this next line is a DIRECT quote (translated of course, the whole class is in Spanish): "I don't think that there is anything worse than getting drunk in a Chinese supermarket."
And then class ended.
Bienvenid@s a Argentina!
Reevaluating my political correctness,
Rachel
*By the way, this story is called "Otras Fotos de Mamá" by Félix Bruzzone
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