Bésame, Bésame Mucho

This photo was taken after much begging from my mother. 

The other night I was thinking about what it will be like to go back home.  In my vision of that first day back, I see my family at the airport, faces lit up in excitement after not seeing me since the beginning of October.  I walk over to them, embrace them and kiss them all on the cheek while they enthusiastically tell me about how much they have missed me and shower me in unnecessary but welcomed compliments.  And then I remember that’s how it is in Ecuador, not the United States. 

                Will my family be ecstatic to see me?  Of course.  But how will they greet me?  My parents will hug me, I’m sure, but what about my younger brother?  I remember the day I left for the airport, my mom had to yell at him to come say goodbye to me.  Both of us were dreading it, because these instances amongst siblings, especially of the opposite sex, are always tricky.  We don’t like touching each other, and to be honest, the last time we probably got up close and personal was back in the day when we would physically fight over something petty.  So there we were, facing each other in the kitchen, gingerly waiting for the other one to make the first move.  We both knew we had to hug to appease our mother, so we awkwardly embraced for a calculated acceptable amount of time and then he ran back upstairs to play his video game (or wipe off the sister cooties). 

In Ecuador, the personal “bubble” that I, as an American, have been accustomed to all of my life is popped.  Every day I walk into my homestay, rushing around to make sure I kiss everyone on the cheek while they greet me with the utmost enthusiasm about how happy they are to see me (even if I have never met them before).  When I first came to Cuenca, I would get frustrated at how impractical this is.  If I walk into a roomful of people who are all sitting down comfortably, I have to awkwardly interrupt their conversation and hastily make my rounds until I have kissed everyone.  Can’t I just wave and say hola?

I know a kiss on the cheek is such a little thing, but I really think it makes a huge difference.  There are two siblings staying at my homestay this week: Valentina, who is 12, and Matteo, who is 13.  They have their fair share of bickering like any other pair of siblings do, but they have no problem getting close to one another to kiss on the cheek.  They even have to share a double bed because there isn’t an extra bed in the house!  I think about family vacations when my brother and I were younger.  We would double up with a parent because just the thought of sharing a bed with each other was horrifying!  Also, Valentina and Matteo always refer to each other as “mi ñaño/a,” a term of endearment in Quichua meaning brother or sister.  I have never called my younger brother anything even resembling endearing. 

   I thought about how many times I have kissed everyone in my host family and how natural it feels.  I had adjusted to it after about the first week, and since then I had never really questioned it.  But looking at it now, how pathetic is it that I am more comfortable kissing people that I have only known for 6 weeks than I am my own brother?  I realize that both are just cultural norms that I have adapted to, but I can’t help but wonder if my relationship with my little brother would be different if we didn’t give in to the standoffish American way.