One of the customs I find so satisfying from Latin American culture is lunches that don't simply revolve around food. Each day this week Abe and I have gone downstairs during the noon hour to calentar whatever platos the women in our lives have prepared for us (I wouldn't be surprised if Abe made his own meals, actually) and sentarnos with the other staff members in the office. Comical conversations ensue, especially when the lunch table features Jorge, who tends to have a sarcastic comment for every conversation. Later laughter, sighs, complaints about having to go back to work, even expressed wishes for nap time (complete with hamacas, dice Abe).
This experience is distinct for me, as while I used to spend most days eating with my coworkers, I now spend each day scarfing something down while continuing on with whatever work needs to be done for the day. Lunchtime loses its luster, and the food becomes nothing more than something to fill my belly. Here the food is almost secondary to the platica that fills your belly with laughter instead of lasagna.
True, my primary role throughout the week has been listener and not conversador, but I have still benefited greatly from the break and human interaction that such a period provides. Manana, I challenge all of you to take your left hand off the keyboard while your right hand points the piece of pizza towards your open boca, and I encourage you to invite one or two of your coworkers to dine and charlar with you. It might be more fulfilling than you think!
Thursday, April 8, 2010
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