Be Careful About Getting Sick in Latin America

I don't know if this applies to every Latin American country; I traveled to nine, but in Perú, I inadvertently ingested a beverage that made me very sick. My biggest mistake was not going to a farmacia (a local pharmacy) where, unlike in the US, you can explain in detail what's going on with you and the pharmacist will provide the appropriate remedy—no prescription needed. Such a procedure has been known to work for many, many people over the centuries. This is something that I should have done early in my illness instead of thinking it will go away naturally with proper rest.

Upon arriving in my room in El Carmen, Perú, without undressing, I crashed on the bed. The next morning, I woke up in a lot of pain. Fortunately, someone heard me moaning and groaning and called the local medical clinic. They didn't have the equipment to deal with my illness so they took me to a hospital in the city of Chincha Alta, 30 minutes away. 

Here is the catch about receiving medical treatment away from a big city in Perú and most Latin American countries; somebody has to pay cash up front; no debit or credit cards. My friends didn't have the money, so the hospital staff had them wake me up while I'm totally incapacitated demanding “plata” (cash money). Fortunately, unlike in the US, medical treatment in Latin America is not expensive so I managed to swing some cash asking for a receipt in order to later file a claim with my travel insurance company to get reimbursed.

The next day, it was determined that I needed more professional treatment, but first, the hospital contacted the American Embassy, which is policy when an American citizen is hospitalized in their country. The American Embassy got in touch with my travel insurance company, and arranged for me to be transported by ambulance to Lima, the capital city, which was a little over two hours away.

Before, the ambulance could take me, however; I had to come up with another 100 nueva soles in cash (about $33.00, still barely a fraction of US cost), but I didn't have that much cash on my person. It was a good thing I had friends in the community who went to an ATM for me to withdraw cash. Yes, I had to give up my pin number! I would not have been surprised if they took out more than needed. Fortunately, I didn't seem to miss anything.

As I plan future trips to Latin America, I will certainly make sure I have adequate travel insurance as I do on all of my trips. Most importantly, I will take precautions to make sure I stay in good health while traveling, which includes being vigilant about my food and beverage intake. And finally, I will make sure I have enough cash hidden on my person in the event of the unexpected.

For Blacks Traveling or Living in Latin America

I've been thinking of starting a support organization for black expats, tourists, students, and those working in a Latin American country to address issues specific to black people. I would even like to see a network with Afro-Latin Americans who are involved in their own civil rights struggle in their respective countries. For example, in Ecuador, there were times I had trouble catching cabs until the drivers realized that I was NOT Afro-Ecuadorian. Hmmmmm, this is s-o-o-o-familiar because, here in the US, blacks from other countries are perceived in a more positive and less threatening light than the home-grown black Americans.

One member of our Facebook forum, Brothers and Sisters in Latin America where I'm one of the co-moderators, states that the information that she receives regarding retiring abroad hardly ever has black issues involved, and stresses that her experience is likely to be different from a Caucasian person's experience.  Another member adds that her treatment in Brazil has been interesting to say the least. A lot of Brazilians find comfort in the racial democracy myth, but it is just that, a myth.

The Facebook forum, Brothers and Sisters in Latin America is a start. I think it's great that black travelers, students, company employees, and expats throughout Latin America network and share ideas and resources in addition to having a networking group within each respective country

.

If you have an interest in Latin America, 

be it travel, study, work, or retirement,

 Join our Facebook Forum

Brothers and Sisters in Latin America

Pssst, A Gringo is Paying!

While on vacation in Ecuador, I made an appointment to meet with an Afro-Ecuadorian Studies Consultant at the Simón Bolívar University of the Andes in Quito, the nation's capital. I offered to take him to lunch to show my appreciation for the black on black cultural exchange. 

Well, his girlfriend popped in about 15 minutes before our scheduled lunch. Not a problem! We hugged and continued to chat. A nutritious, filling lunch in Ecuador is as little as $2.00. When I told the couple that I’m paying, they both chuckled as though this was expected. After all, I’m the “gringo” here.

In addition to Ecuador, I've been to eight other Latin American countries. If there is one attitude that so many people throughout Latin American have in common is that they view every North American and European as always having their pockets bulging with money. 

A retired police officer living in Ecuador explains that over many years, he and his wife would have a night out with a group whom they have invited. Word got around that a gringo is paying, and invite other friends to join them. 

They normally don’t show up at the beginning of the night, but straggle in without having any qualms about joining the party. It would have been considered bad manners to turn them down; thus, he and his wife felt put on the spot, and wound up spending considerably more money than initially planned.

With my repeated trips to Perú, and as people got to know me better, thefelt bolder in treating me like a walking ATM. When I first arrived in Chincha, the hub of Afro-Peruvian culture, I approached a black guy working in one of the shops to get some directions. When he heard my foreign accent, he became gleeful as it was evident that I am a gringo. He immediately stopped what he was doing, took a self-appointed break from his job, and said, ¡Vamos, un moreno tiene que ayudar un moreno (come on, man; a brotha gotta help a brotha out)!

He took about 30 minutes of his time to show me around. Out of appreciation for his hospitality, I invited him for a delicious seafood lunch, and towards the end of our little tour, he asked me for some money. I reached in my pocket and handed him 10 nueva soles (Peruvian dollars), and we parted ways.

On another occasion, I invited my nine-year-old Afro-Peruvian goddaughter and her older sister out to a local restaurant. Her uncle instinctively tagged along for a free meal, so I had to (reluctantly) include him in the dining bill. The older sister mysteriously disappeared and returned with four more of her family members. 

Like the retired police officer, I felt put on the spot. If I had more cash on my person at the time, or if this particular restaurant accepted Visa or Mastercard, or at least had an ATM; I too would have fallen for that blatant manipulation. 

 

Instead, the four other family members simply had to be left hanging. My goddaughter felt hurt and disappointed. The older sister was absolutely appalled. I later pulled her aside and explained to her that I am not one of those rich Americans; I live on a budget, and unfortunately, I don’t have the money to be spending on everyone in Perú on her whim or mine.

I thoroughly enjoy interacting with Spanish-speaking members of the African diaspora, and have even established family-like relationships with free room and board, such as the occasion when I got very sick on one of my trips, and two different families looked after me and nursed me back to health so I can continue my travels. 

As a general rule, however, no matter how well I connect with the people,  the indisputable fact still stands… I’m a gringo with a pocket full of money first, a “brotha” second.

Latin American Etiquette (with the Ladies)

One morning, on my way to work in Oakland, CA, a woman and I boarded a city bus. Having been taught some manners as a child, I stepped back so the woman can board first. In a frustrated tone, she snapped at me, “go ahead!” With a suit yourself attitude and a shrug, I boarded the bus ahead of her. The transit operator (female) and I had a good laugh as she reminded me that times are changing. Trying to be a gentleman is not so much en vogue anymore. And speaking of ladies, I’ve met women here in the US who bitterly resent being called a lady. Woman is the politically correct term. Not all USA women, of course, share this sentiment, but enough to make me wonder.

On another occasion, I was riding a metro train (BART) from San Francisco to Oakland, and there was a Spanish-speaking immigrant couple standing over me conversing. With times changing, as alluded to by the female bus driver, I normally do not give up my seat unless it is for an elderly or disabled person (male or female). However, seizing an opportunity to practice my Spanish, I offered the women my seat. She smiled, seemingly pleasantly surprised to meet a gentleman in the United States of America, and responded with gracias, muy amable (thank you, you are so kind).

As I go about my Latin American vacations trying to fit in as much as gringo-ly possible, I’ve literally asked the friends that I made in those countries about proper etiquette. Of the many things they shared was that a gentleman absolutely gives up his seat for a lady on public transportation; a gentleman permits a lady to go first, such as boarding a bus, and the ladies expect it.

One hectic evening in a Quito, Ecuador bus station, I was waiting in line to buy a bus ticket back to Lima, Perú. Being next in line, I stepped forward as soon as a window became vacant. Suddenly, seemingly out of nowhere, a woman swooped past me towards the vacant window. Irritated, I snapped, con permiso señora, pero estaba aquí primero (excuse me, ma’am, but I was here first)! The ticket clerk looked at me as if I was from another planet, not to mention another country. To get even, she gave me, what I found out later to be, inaccurate information. I shared this incident with an Ecuadorian lady-friend hoping to learn a little more about cultural sensitivity, and was told that it is an Ecuadorian federal law that pregnant women, seniors (male and female), and the disabled (male or female) get to go the head of the line. The woman I confronted was neither pregnant, a senior, nor disabled, thus, I’m still up-in-the-air about as to  where I went wrong in my assertiveness.

When I land on Latin American soil, I find it necessary to change my paradigm when relating to women. In Latin-America, as in other parts of the world, the women’s movement have not come close to the advances made here in the US. Women in these countries generally hold positions where the disparity between male and female pay is far greater than that in the US. And the old-school customs that were practiced when I was a child growing up are still common place in Latin American countries. However, as I continue to explore Latin American cultures while improving my Spanish, I will need to keep abreast of their women’s movement because it is active and slowly gaining momentum.

Latin American Travel (and my Job Loss!)

 

Once again, I was ready to take advantage of my accrued and approved 30-day vacation at a reputable San Francisco social service agency. Already well ahead in my quarterly productivity goals as a workforce development specialist, I gleefully clicked “send” on an e-mail reminding my colleagues not to refer any new clients for another month. 

The company's executive director, in an extremely rare person-to-person e-mail, asked where I was going—this time. With excitement I responded, Miami, Lima, and Caracas. She followed up with a comment that hinged on sarcasm, and even jealousy about my annual travel experience. I immediately dismissed such thoughts as my imagination because my logic strongly dictated that she makes twice my salary. How in hell could she be jealous?

Naively, I thought that I was impressing her, not only with my work-performance, but also by spending my vacations improving my Spanish and immersing myself in Latin-American culture; thus, better serving my company’s Spanish-speaking clientele. After all, one of the reasons I was hired in the first place was because of my Spanish.

However, there was some discussion among members of my predominately black travel group, Nomad-ness Travel Tribe, stating that it is not a good idea to talk so extensively about your travels in the workplace. It can cause some hard feelings because you are living your dreams and others aren’t. 

This, I must confess, is where I’m guilty as sin. One of my co-workers stopped speaking to me altogether. It's not that I was bragging about my travels; I was overflowing with joy, excitement, and anticipation. On Friday's, I proudly sported soccer jerseys from Ecuador and Perú, and a baseball jersey from Venezuela. Even my office was filled with pictures, currency, and artifacts from the countries that I’ve visited. 

An African-American CEO who himself, at one time, experienced a nasty termination from a job, is in agreement with my travel group. He pointed out that my company’s management may have been wondering where does this n… (expletive) get the means to do all of this traveling. 

Wow, I could have told them if they had only asked! I know how to travel very cheaply. In fact, I wrote a blog article entitled, Enjoy Travel Without Being Wealthy. The cost of my round trip tickets to Miami, Lima, and Caracas from San Francisco was only $917.

Unfortunately, two months after my trip, I was terminated from my job. Did this have anything to do with the jealousy that I sensed from the executive director's e-mail, who knows? The formal reason given was the result of “one,” lousy honest mistake that I made in my four years with the company. Although, I certainly do not defend the error, my intentions were well-meaning and pure, and I was expecting a strong reprimand, or at worst, a write-up. 

However, the reason given publicly for my termination was that my position was being “restructured” due to downsizing, which made more sense because I was never replaced. Meanwhile, the vacation time of the remaining employees have been reportedly cut. Hmmmm!

Mexicans, Colombians, and Others are “Americans” Too

One evening, I was walking the streets of El Carmen, Perú, and as I stopped to ask a group of Afro-Peruvian men for some directions, they asked me,¿tú eres de América—Are you from America? With a hearty laugh, I answered, ¡sí, y ustedes tambien—Yeah, man, and you are too, LOL! 

What is it about the USA that we and others around the world refer to our country as “America” out of all the countries in North, Central, and South America? We call people from the continent of Africa “Africans,” yet those from Nigeria, “Nigerians” who live on the continent of Africa. The same applies to France in Europe, and Japan in Asia.

In Cartagena, Colombia, I went into a bank to withdraw cash from my credit card, and the banker asked me which country is my bank located. With an arrogant, Freudian slip, I answered, “it’s the US—can’t you see 'Bank of America' on the card?” Her response was, “this could be anywhere in the Americas.” I knew that this banker was right on target with her blunt reminder that we US citizens might want to think we make up the whole western world but we don’t.

My outlook on this matter started to change some years back when I ventured into a Venezuelan online forum identifying myself as an “American.” One of the forum members pulled my proverbial coat tail to remind me that people in Venezuela are Americans too, continental Americans, and that we in the US are referred to as Estadounidenses (Es-tah-do Oo-nee-dense-says), meaning “USA-ers,” so to speak, or simply Norte-Americanos (North Americans) along with Canadians. Not long afterwards, I visited a Latin-American cultural center, La Peña in Berkeley, CA, where there was a presentation by a Colombian woman. During her presentation, she picked up a black doll from Colombia, and called it an African-American doll, that is, a black “continental” American doll.

Therefore to this day, during my travels and during my interactions with foreign immigrants and visitors in the US, I never refer to myself as an American. I simply tell people I’m from the US, more specifically, California by way of New York. As an Afro-Peruvian lady friend put it to her friends, referring to me, California y Estados Unidos son iguales—California and the USA are the same!