Mi Teléfono Celular – My Cell Phone

My cell phone sucks and I love it.  It is a cheap local phone that is better as an alarm (una alarma) or a flashlight (una linterna) that it is also a phone.  It is small, cheap and hard to use and almost impossible to hear when someone calls.  It rings when I don’t want to hear it, it loses numbers (números) each day, it runs out of minutes all the time, and of course, all its directions, functions and information are in Spanish.

When I try and ask for help with my cell phone, I come across like a complete idiot (un idiota completo), someone incapable of even the most basic of tasks.  I mean, it is a cell phone, not a jet airplane (un avión).  Any teenager can program a cell phone, and everyone around the world uses one to stay connected.  Back in the US, I had a cell phone that could take pictures (puede tomar fotos), call long distance and keep track of appointments.  When I knew I would be coming to Chile, I freed myself from this electronic necessity in order to enjoy a brief period (un periodo breve) of disconnected anonymity.

When I got to Chile, I played dumb for some time, asking friends, “Why do I need a cell phone?”  and showing my ignorance in public while holding my enthusiasm (mi entusiasmo) in private.  The cell phone has in many ways become like a pair of handcuffs (las esposas) that we willingly put on ourselves, with the idea that we can and all should be in constant communication as a mandate in the modern world.

I purchased my cell phone (mi celular) at a department store for under 30 dollars and it came with minutes already loaded.  It was the cheapest, most nondescript phone I could find, and I try to use it as little as possible.  When I run out of credit, I go to a pharmacy (una farmacia), imagine that, and recharge my chip with more minutes that I get chewed up when I make or receive calls.  I have only 6 or so numbers stored in my cell phone, and rarely give out my number to anyone unless it is required.  It is more useful as my timepiece (un cronómetro), and in a minimalist sense, it is my most basic concession to my working world.  If no one calls me, I am happy (estoy feliz) and if I go days without using my phone, I am elated.

I have my cell phone because in many ways, I have no choice (no tengo otra opción), and I don’t want to stay out of touch with my friends and colleagues here in Santiago.  Yet, I guess this newfound freedom has given me food for thought, and maybe I can apply this lesson (esta lección) of simplification to my cell phone life when I return to my seemingly interconnected existence back home.