Conocer

By: Kether

We biked away from Bariloche the other day, my heart heavy with the weight of new people to know and miss and wonder about.

For the first time, conocer makes sense to me.

Conocer, the verb to know people or places or things; but it’s more than that. Conocer is recognition and familiarity and the knowledge that his eyes are blue and she prefers a crisp apple. It’s the bits of information you compile in your head to be able to say, yes, I know her, or yes, I know that place.

When I learned the verb, reconocer and learned the English translation, to recognize, I broke the word down and I wondered what it could mean, to cognize. I thought about cognizant. Based solely on the context in which I have heard it, I assume it means to have the ability to process information. People wonder when babies become cognizant, when they can take information and use it again in the future.

A while ago, I saw something in English, written by a young man who didn’t speak perfect English. He wrote that he had traveled to visit his family and to know his new baby nephew. It was clear to me that he had made a direct translation from Spanish to English because when you meet someone for the first time in Spanish, and then speak of it later, you might say, “Conocí mí sabrino nuevo.” The same way he translated directly, I would do the same and assume that “conocí,” means, “I met.” In fact, it means much more. Not only did he meet his new nephew, he learned the color of his eyes, the feel of his hair, the shape of his full belly. It’s possible that he actually meant, “conocía mí sabrino nuevo” which would make the story less final. Conocía is the imperfect form meaning that something happened in the past but it was more than once and for a long time. For example, “cuando era niña,” “When I was a young girl,” something that didn’t happen just once, it spanned a period of time but is not the current moment. This fellow met his baby cousin and spent time getting to know him.

I had a boyfriend once who told me that you never stop loving the people you once knew and held in your heart, your heart simply grows larger: larger to accommodate new folks and places and things. I hated that he said that, but it makes sense to me now. How can you forget the things you learn about people that make you love them or hate them or simply recognize them on the street?
I see now that knowing people, places, and things is so much more than simple knowledge. It’s knowledge you compile in your head and in your heart in order to be able to say, “Sí, yo conozco.”

It’s not the pieces; it’s the combination; knowing where to get the freshest most beautiful fruits; the tastiest, tenderest, least expensive churrasco; where to find the most delicious chocolate ice cream; the sandiest, least populated beach. Conocer is being recognized on the street and preparing yourself in advance for the same dirty look from the girl at the chocolate store; it’s knowing the route home and away without the map.

Early on in this trip I got an email discussing what it’s like to unpack your bags, stay for a while, and know a place. This is conocer.

Viajo para conocer, pero me quedo para reconocer y para estar conocida.