Compare and Contrast

As I sit here, typing in English and singing in Spanish, I think it an appropriate setting to unleash my observations as to the similarities and differences between my hometown Chicago/Wheaton and Bogotá, or perhaps, my South American experiences in general. Plus, this song has such a fun rhythm. Well worth checking out here. Even if you don't understand a word. :)

For starters, public transportation has been a big switch. Here, with my thrice weekly rides on the Metra to Chicago, my pocketbook was the first to notice a difference. One ticket, $7. I told some of my Colombian friends this--their response was something to the tune of, "Really?? What, do they serve you breakfast or something?" Nope. Just that first, ours is not government subsidized (Argentina, and I think Colombia as well). Second, that good old fashioned capitalism and greed drove the bigshot owners to snitch millions from the Metra's profits before they all found out, so, now we're paying to make up the difference. Another difference in public transport, though, is the return to personal space I have begun to notice (/lament). Everyone keeps walking through a train car of half empty seats desperately searching for that one space where we won't be required to share air, or conversely, where we will not potentially offend someone with our closeness. A third difference lies in consumption of alcohol. In the public transport system in Bogotá, I do not believe I ever once saw a person holding an alcoholic drink. Certainly, undeniably, I saw dozens upon dozens of rather tipsy or downright inebriated passengers, but they never brought the offending substance in with them, even late at night. Whereas, on my (so far) only night ride back from Chicago involved several tipsy someones and several beer holders. Just interesting to me that specifically in Chicago (as a friend asserted that you'd never see such persons on Boston public transport) our independence, or at least self-perception and belief in personal freedoms, has led this to be socially acceptable. Seems a bit off. At the same time, I never saw in Colombian or Argentine children quite the same excitement at riding in trains. Mostly due to its daily reality and familiarity for those South American children whose parents don't have the time or money to drive places, children shuffle or are pulled around the stations and buses with general looks of nonchalance. Meanwhile, the little girl I had the pleasure of noticing yesterday brought a joyful smile to my face with just her exuberance at being on the train's upper level.
As a beautiful side story, I shall here indulge us with this little girl's choice of train activity. First of all, she had elected to sit in the upper level of the train (another part of our train system that doesn't exist in our Bogotá or Buenos Aires neighbors). Secondly, she was carrying a stylish pink purse, that was apparently deceivingly spacious: she proceeded to pull forth from it an entire tea-for-two set, also pink, and place lovingly each item on her father's lap. She burbled happily about the tea set, the scenery outside, how the tea party was to proceed, and all manner of things as she readied things. The lucky father let her do her thing and fuddled with his iPhone until she was ready for him to actually participate in all her musings. When the time came for me to exit the train, partaking of the tea had only just commenced. I half wanted to congratulate her Little Majesty on the excellence of her tea party, but I liked the image too much as it was, and let them be, un-self-consciously.

On to an area of similarity, albeit loose similarity. During my time in Bogotá and Argentina, I may have blogged mentioning the Recyclers that take on the job of rooting through everyone's trash looking for recyclable items to resell for a pittance on which they, their families, and often the work horse must live. Incredibly hard workers, incredibly discouraged and hardy folk. Anyhow, all that to say I saw one Recycler in Chicago one day on my second week at CVLS: an African American fellow, perhaps in his thirties somewhere, rolling a moving box on wheels around the area where I work, picking up valuable looking knick-knacks. I wanted to peek into the box as he passed, but as I had no reason to stare, I just walked on while silently thanking him for being a fond reminder to pray for the needs of Chicago as well as Bogotá and Buenos Aires. The proceeding week, that would be this week, I found myself really desiring to reach out to some of the homeless people I see on my walk to work, almost daily. Having prayed about it all weekend, on Monday when I got off the train, I picked up a hot chocolate at the station on my way out. Not knowing exactly for whom my little gift of heat and tastiness was destined, I walked on, across the bridge where usually there are two people asking for help and today there were none. I walked on past the Civic Opera House. I walked on to that corner and peered around to see if the other bridge was being manned by the fellow who usually sits there, asking. Not to be seen anywhere. So, as I turned to face the direction of the office a bit downtrodden--as heading in that direction I rarely see anyone who would be in quite as great a need of some hot cocoa--I saw the Recycler. Of course, Father, I thought. Thank you. He walked across the street towards my side, and I waited for him to get onto the sidewalk before saying, "Excuse me, sir? You look like you could use some hot chocolate. Would you like this?" And I extended my arm in faith. Oh, yes please, ma'am, he uttered in almost a whisper. God bless you.


God bless me? The little suburban white girl who just had enough money for a train fare, a give-away hot chocolate, all the clothes she had bought herself, and the food she had packed with her for lunch? God bless you. And I hadn't even mentioned anything about how much Jesus loves him, is caring for him, and notices all that he is struggling with right now and always. God bless you.

Humility and gratitude and graciousness, when truly lived out with genuine good heart, change an entire week for someone.

That's universal.
xox