You know what, our ‘culture’ isn’t that great

The South American way of doing things is so refreshing. Never have I been to a culture that has made more sense than the one I was brought up in.

To start with the language was obviously invented by one of the world’s great academics. Simple and effective. When you ask a question like “What are you doing?”, the Spanish translates as “What do?”. The language just cuts out all the irrelevant crap out of any sentence.

The same goes too for the pronunciation, where letters are always said the same, regardless of surrounding influences. It simply makes more sense.

OK, and now one for all you drivers. Have you ever been sitting behind someone waiting for the light to go green, and for whatever reason once the colour changes there is no movement? Probably in a massive hurry, you honk your horn only to receive a ‘V’ sign back. Infuriating.

South America’s response: a thank-you, a wave and a smile. They make eye contact as you drive past as to say a) sorry for holding you up and b) thanks for the nudge. Is that not how it should be every time?

Further more, hooting your horn to pedestrians is considered thoughtful and polite, again to say, “I’m here so don’t walk out in front of me.” Again this is greeted with a wave of thanks. Civil. Makes you wonder why people get so hot headed about such trivial matters.

And now one perhaps for the clubbers: Those of you who enter clubs hoping to go to bed with someone at the end of the night don’t come to South America. It doesn’t happen (unless perhaps you go to the capital, in which case the person isn’t worth the time of day).

The hindsight point of view is this. Doesn’t it resemble just terrible insecurity to go to bed with someone on the first night? Shouldn’t there be a gap between meeting for the first time and being invited back?

The truth is, from a guys point of view, there is more dignity amongst South American girls (or Latinas). So much so, that there is no guarantee of even kissing on that first evening.

Instead, you dance. You dance until you sweat alcohol and need water to keep you alive. You dance until everyone around you who was there when you started, have stopped and a new bunch take the next shift. You dance all night. This in itself, I find more classy. There is something both terrifying and thrilling being on the dance floor knowing that the immediate crowd is watching the ‘tourist’ try the moves on their soil. They want you to slip up, so as to make a fool of the ‘gringo’. But like playing away in a football game, the pressure adds to a performance.

There are also, unwritten house rules which you can’t break. The only place to touch your girl is on the hips. Go higher or lower, then expect a slapped hand. The second rule, is that you can get as close as you want with your lips to theirs. But under no circumstance to you kiss her on the dance floor.

And just to quash one more myth, if you don’t talk the talk, you’ll never walk the walk. The final chapter is to be able to have a fairly intimate conversation in Spanish. If you accomplish all of this, then maybe you get your hard worked for earned kiss. And, from experience, it’s one of the best you will ever had. The same feeling I guess, as if you had just built a house in a night. Hard work, but worth every minute.

How is this better? In hindsight it is. It makes you realise that she doesn’t do this for free. Not because she is drunk, and not because you bought her a drink. Not because you dance well, and not because you talk well. Because she likes you.

On top of all of that, she would never invite you back. I am told, possibly not for months. This, I believe, is just wonderfully refreshing.