Anonymity, self-consciousness, and being an extranjero

I went for my typical ridiculously long walk today, and I got to thinking about my post from yesterday. In it, I mentioned how easily recognized I am as an extranjero, a foreigner. This got me thinking a little bit about cities, anonymity, and being an extranjero.

I think one of the attractions of big cities for me and for many people is the feeling of anonymity. You're surrounded by people, but none of them care about you at all, they're all going about their business. You lose any sense of being judged or having to meet people's standards. As long as you behave and don't stick out, you're on your own. It's a kind of freedom.

Now of course the critical phrase in the paragraph before is "don't stick out." Mind you, this isn't africa or Laos or someplace where I would obviously be from somewhere else. Sheesh, I'm 50% italian, just like the rest of this country. But damn, I am so obviously not argentinian, it kills me. I don't know what it is. I don't think it's my clothes, usually -- hell, half the clothes I have with me I bought here on previous trips. To some extent it might be my height -- I'm definitely tall here, much more so than in the US. But there are other tall people here. I was wondering about this today when I was eagerly approached by a guy with a flyer from some leather shop in the middle of Congreso, an area where almost no tourists go. But this guy pegged me immediately. All I could come up with was my hair. I definitely do not have an argentinian haircut. They're into this crazy shag look here, like something Rod Stewart was wearing in 1976. I completely don't understand it.

So being recognized as a tourist makes me feel like I've lost my anonymity. Which makes me feel self-conscious. People Are Looking at Me. But what gets me feeling most self-conscious is language. I can get myself understood just fine most of the time, but I still have trouble understanding others here, with their crazy italian-flavored spanish. And when I'm feeling particularly bad about the language barrier, I get extra self-conscious, like I am worried about having to get into a verbal interaction and feeling like a retard because I can't understand simple things that people say.

This self-consciousness, added to the perceived lack of anonymity, definitely combine to make one feel more vulnerable in a foreign country. And this came out in my reactions to the dudes I was worried about on Saturday. Mind you, I think the dudes I spotted all were trouble, potentially. But I think I definitely worried a bit more about these dudes than I needed to.

Here's the joke, though -- this vulnerability, this feeling that you've got to be on your toes, it's one of the reasons we go traveling in the first place. Home is a little too safe, a little too boring. I always said that one of the things I liked about Buenos Aires is that there is an edge. Lord knows it's no afghanistan or somalia or even Brazil, but it's definitely got more of an edge than San Diego, or New York.

Ha, this reminds me, when I moved to New York after college, one of the rationales I gave to people was that I thought it would toughen me up. So maybe I think BA will toughen me up. I could do without the self-consciousness part, though. But that's a whole other story.