The Geography Lesson

When I was six or seven years old, we were having a geography lesson at Montessori school. I don’t remember whether the teacher was focusing on a specific continent or if she was testing us or what, as it was too long ago. I do remember mentally noting in my head which country was which as she went along (this was natural for me - I was probably born with a world map in my hand. I have always loved geography.).

She pointed to a spot in South America and said “Argentina.” I perked up. I have no idea why, but the sound of the word “Argentina” resonated with me. I had no physical or familial connection to Argentina, I knew absolutely nothing about it, but somehow it got my attention. It stirred something in me. For the rest of the lesson, I couldn’t pay attention. I stared at Argentina. I was fascinated. Maybe because the name ended in “Tina” so I identified with it in that way.

I very vaguely remember going home and going to my father’s globe and running my fingers along Argentina, picturing in my head what it must look like, how the people must be. I don’t remember much else from that time.

This does not negate my love for Italy, but ever since then I’ve had this secret (well, not secret anymore!) fascination with Argentina. It just picked me. It made me feel without even having to know it. And now here I am. In Argentina, for the second time. I’m still taking baby steps, I only know Buenos Aires, but I’m here. Me! Here!

I was thinking back to my childhood yesterday, picturing myself as a little girl and thinking, “Who would have guessed that this little girl would be taking an afternoon walk down Avenida de Mayo at the age of 30?”

They say that we don’t choose Tango. Tango chooses us. Maybe, just maybe, that moment in school when I was in the 1st or 2nd grade was the “Ghost” making its first appearance in my life.

Just a thought.