It’s funny how the definition of something can change so drastically not based solely on language but cultural beliefs. SInce I first acquired a well-developed understanding of the english language I have been fascinated with translation: having the power to introduce somebody to a new language, a new understanding of the spoken word. I was always curious about the power of connotations and how they relate between two different languages. In spanish I can mock somebody’s stuck-up qualities by calling them “fresa” but it simply would not make sense to call them “strawberry” and expect the same reaction as the word “preppy” might produce. “Todo eso y una bolsa de papas” is simply gibberish in Spanish and does not have the same effect as “All that and a bag of chips”. It is not some snide comment; it is simply meaningless. We make these association not only with words, but objects, religion, songs and other crucial parts of our culture that define who we are as individuals.

I have never been so perplexed about my  feelings toward a harmless and probably ordinary animal: the owl. The common owl in America is completely different creature in Mexico. The American symbol for wisdom and intuitive knowledge is simply not that in Mexico as I have come to know it. In the United States I can observe the majestic creature with intrigue and perhaps not only appreciate it for its wise beauty, but biological inquiry as well. The animal is beautiful in spirit and science because it is part of the American culture. Innovation and thirst for knowledge are what run this country which establishes the appropriate praise the owl receives.

Mexico is highly passionate and protective. This country views the owl with fear not praise. I recall my grandmother pointing out a “lechuza” in tremor on our way home one night. She claimed to have seen an owl perched on the fence as we drove by and that she watched it shape-shift into the witch highly feared in Mexico: “La Lechuza”. The hispanic folklore claims that a woman who practiced “white magic” was killed by the townspeople when she was revealed as a witch. In search of revenge, her ghost returned to haunt those townspeople and she took the shape of a bird that Mexico and Texas now identify the owl with. The Mexican culture reflects itself partly through stories that demonstrate the counties superstition and spirituality.

What I find interesting above all things is that I can truly perceive the owl in these two ways depending on the culture I chose to embrace at that moment. I don’t feel strongly about either one of these points of views because I can acknowledge them both equally; this is the power of translation. I can alter my mentality from me driving with my grandmother to me going on a night hike with a group of friends. My culture diverges into two strong beliefs that I can understand just as easily as the languages. I can accept both theories of the owl or “La Lechuza”. I may not be able to call my fiends “fresa” or tell my grandmother she is “Todo eso y una bolsa de papas”, but the power of translation allows me to indulge in both worlds in a relatable manner.