wrenfliessouth

Sorry to leave you all hanging… “Did she make it home? Did she run off to the countryside of Argentina?” Yes, I am back in the states, safe and sound, sleeping off a semester of adventures and readjusting to life in the US.

It was quite a trip back, a delay caused us to be late by 5 hours, rerouted us through Miami, put me in Dallas long after my connecting flight. I finally squeezed myself into a window seat home to Sky Harbor on Monday afternoon, getting in around 5 p.m., almost 24 hours after our plane first took off from Ezeiza in Buenos Aires. I watched the Arizona landscape as we flew in from the east, trying to pick out the familiar landmarks and seeing everything through slightly different eyes. I think it was the best birthday present, just finally getting home.

Everyone wants to know how things seem different, how everything looks after being abroad. Honestly, it seems pretty much the same, after all it’s 5 months in Argentina versus 21 and a half years in Arizona. I do marvel at how incredibly quiet it is here, how open the space seems without any tall buildings. It’s a bit strange to be able to completely understand strangers’ conversations around me and to go to restaurants or stores and request things without struggling to get my message across. I haven’t used too much Spanish accidentally, though I keep wanting to say “permiso” when I need to get around some one, I still slip out “gracias” for things, and I throw in a “sí” every once in a while, especially when talking about BsAs. Everything seems clean and organized here, and for lack of a better word “wealthy.” The perfect sidewalks and orderly traffic (yes, compared to Buenos Aires, it’s orderly, though I may disagree once I get back behind the wheel) are a change. The big stores and even bigger cars are such a contrast to life on Cabildo street. It’s not to say that Buenos Aires wasn’t rich in its own way, there just seems to be a sheen here while BsAs had a different kind of spark.

I was unbelievably exhausted when I got in and slept for about 12 hours and have continued to sleep on and off for the past couple days. It’s more just tiredness from emotions and stress, I don’t think I have much jetlag. Since it was only a four hour time difference, and since the sleeping schedules of Argentines was so different, while I feel like I’m going to bed “early” at 10 p.m., that’s really 2 a.m. in Argentina and around my normal bed time. I’m having a hard time reconciling that I was in a totally different place just a few days ago. I think that’s the most mind-boggling, how in one day I can change hemispheres and ways of life. I had such an urge to go for a walk, but realized that’s hardly done here without a dog in tow, a backpack on, or gas can in hand.

Yes, I got to have all the top-missed foods on my list when I got in, pizza during my wait in Dallas, pancakes and hashbrowns for my birthday dinner, Mexican food for dinner the next night and, of course, the joy of a huge cereal variety.

I'll try to get the last of my photos up on photobucket by the end of this week.

I’m trying to think of all the things I’ll miss from Argentina, but it would be impossible to make a complete list. I miss the experience and the city as a whole and the life that I fell into there. I definitely miss my host parents and building my Spanish skills with them. I’ll miss the cosmopolitan attitude and rich language of the porteños. I’ll miss that each day had the potential for a new place to explore or a new neighborhood to check out. And I’ll miss being absolutely surrounded by the vibrant life of Buenos Aires. I don’t know if I’d really want to live permanently in a big city, but I’m so glad that I got to spend a slice of time in one of the most exciting of them.

I feel like I should close with remarks on how I’ve grown or lessons learned. But I think it will take time to see how my semester abroad has and will affect my life. I know I’ve changed, but most of us do in the course of a year any way. I just had a little extra help this time. I think I’ll leave the deep introspection to myself and instead just hope that you all enjoyed reading about my adventures down south and learned a little bit about life in Argentina. I also hope that I may have broadened everyone’s perspectives on Latin America and life beyond our borders. (“To travel is to discover that everyone is wrong about other countries.” ~Aldous Huxley) I highly recommend Argentina for travel and hope that gauchos, tango, colectivos and maté are in some people’s futures.

Maybe I’ll let someone else sum it up:
“I soon realized that no journey carries one far unless, as it extends into the world around us, it goes an equal distance into the world within.” ~Lillian Smith

Thanks for keeping me company on this amazing trip. Chau!


PS: Yes, everything fit in my suitcases

Busy, busy. Can you believe that tomorrow is my last full day? I certainly can’t. The time has flown by, though this week has been so packed with stuff, I feel like it has gone on forever. I’ve been busy seeing the city and trying to take care of all that last minute stuff that has crept up, like buying a third suitcase and taking the last pictures of my favorite spots.

I’ve been all over the city and beyond. Monday we went to Tigre, the river town about a 45 minute train ride from Buenos Aires. The Tigre river is the main thoroughfare and everything faces the river and its surrounding tributaries. It’s the spot for many people’s weekend homes and there are some really beautiful houses tucked in the green scenery. Like Venice, everyone gets around in boats, ranging large colectivo boats to canoes. There is even a fire boat, a school boat and a grocery boat. The place is notoriously humid, though, and the former summer home of Sarimento is kept in a giant glass box to keep the dampness out. We took, well what else, a boat ride around the area, the weather was perfect and the bright houses so scenic. We laughed when the guide handed out “these special Argentine treats called alfajores with a special filling called dulce de leche.” I think we’re pretty familiar with those.

Later in the week I visited the Rosedal, the city rose garden in 3 de Febrero park. It was beautiful, of course, but I especially enjoyed seeing it because it was one of the first places I went to in July. Then, all the bushes and trees were barren but now they’re all in full bloom. Can’t believe I’ve been here through two seasons!

Finally got to Puerto Madero, the youngest barrio in the city. It’s actually built around the old diques on the river front that were once run down and dangerous until the 80’s, when the area was rebuilt in a period of government optimism and spending. What was once essentially a landfill is now some of the most expensive real estate in town. The fancy smancy restaurants that aren’t in Palermo are found here and it’s a big tourist destination. There’s even a Holiday Inn Express there. It’s beautiful, though, with yachts bobbing in the water and sleek white pedestrian bridge called Puente de la Mujer.

Tuesday we went to see a movie from Chile that was entirely in Spanish. I was proud of myself because I was able to follow the storyline and pick up some pieces of the dialogue. It wasn’t a partially deep movie, but still, I can tell how much I’ve learned. Today, when buying my suitcase, I was able to have a conversation with the saleslady, and I just felt wonderful. I still have a long, long ways to go on getting this dang language down, but I’m closer now than I was after years of school Spanish. And yes, I’m signing up for “Intermediate Conversational Spanish” at Pima Community College in the evenings, to keep going.

Lots of other exploring and time spent with friends here. My host parents left Monday for a trip to Mar del Plata, and since they won’t be back until the 12th, I had to say my good-byes. I was very sad to say “ciao” to the people who had helped me so much and had made living here so much easier and so much more enjoyable. When I was cleaning out my desk drawers, I found some of Marta’s carefully written-out instructions for getting around the city, including how to ride a colectivo and where I could find notebooks for school. I have Marta and Carlos to thank for being able to see so much of the city. For our last meal together, I made tacos thanks to the imported foods section in the supermarket Jumbo and left-over turkey that had been frozen from Thanksgiving. The tacos were a hit, though I had to give a demonstration on how to fill them and then how to eat them, making sure to reiterate that it’s ok to get a little messy. Marta and Carlos couldn’t help putting their own Argentine twist on the meal, though, taking the leftover filling and putting oil and vinegar on it to make a salad. Oh well, it works. While we were exchanging some gifts and saying our final farewells, the Argentine national anthem came on the radio, played every day at midnight. Carlos proceeded to tell me how a poll found that the Argentine anthem was thought to be the prettiest, after the Italian one, and it was just the perfect parting moment.

Info about the anthem: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Argentine_National_Anthem
And to hear it, to judge for yourself: http://www.national-anthems.net/countries/index.php?id=AR

It’s definitely time to think about going home. According to Google Earth, it’s about 5,800 miles from host home in Buenos Aires to home in Mesa. I spent some time entertaining myself by watching the program soar from the corner of South America up to the other corner of the US and back again. I think things have finally hit me that I’m flying back, especially as I sat listening to the electronic American Airlines voice repeat my flight info back to me on the phone. Leaving Buenos Aires, 10:20 p.m. Arriving in Dallas/Fort Worth at 6:15 a.m. then connecting to Phoenix. Hope someone remembers to pick me up from the airport, ha ha.

Most of the time I don’t think I realize it, that it’s time to go. I was riding the 152 colectivo by Retiro today and I thought “huh, this is the probably the last time I’ll ride this bus. And I should look at Plaza San Martin, it’s probably the last time I’ll see that as well.” I’d rather not think about whether I’ll see something again or not, it would get too overwhelming. Instead I just spend each day seeing as much as possible and on Sunday, I’ll just happen to get into a cab to the airport.

I now have to tackle packing. So far I have one of my checked bags packed and I have the feeling it’s going to be overweight. Oh well, saves a trip to customs to try to mail things home. It’s all that dulce de leche I’m bringing home. When I took all my stuff out and filled up my bed, and just one thought struck me – “HOW THE HECK AM I GOING TO FIT THIS ALL???” As usual, its clothes that get me, a huge pile of them is staring me back right now. I just have to take a deep breath and start strategically stuffing everything in. It’s a like a real life Tetris game, I guess.

( The pile o' stuff )

It’s hot, hot, hot here. So it’s going to be a shock when I get back. Weather in Buenos Aires when I leave Sunday: 90o .Weather when I get into Phoenix: 66o
Guess I’d better remember to leave a jacket out.

Sad to say, I think this is the last entry I’ll write from my room here in Buenos Aires. I’ll wrap everything up when I get home (home!) and get settled in. From here, I have a day of saying “byes” and packing, some last minute shopping and then Sunday I head to Ezeiza airport. Wow.

I’ll be home for Christmas (and my birthday!). See you in the states!

Ok I put that video up for real this time. I also checked out the confetti remains the next day and found that it wasn’t ordinary stuff – it was the shredded remains of notes, books and handouts, that blanketed the streets around the school.

I tried turning on some Christmas music but it just didn’t seem to fit. When it’s humid tank top weather, and the hype and anticipation is missing, it just isn’t “beginning to look a lot like Christmas.”

Whew, I have been busy. I’m working through my schedule of things I want to do, and set out each day for some corner of the city. Tuesday I decided to walk from the apartment, on Cabildo all the way across 9 de Julio to Plaza San Martin, about 65 blocks. I simply wanted to take in the city and see the change as I moved through the neighborhoods. It starts out middle upper-class in Belgrano, gets a little gritty around the railroad tracks, becomes green around Plaza Italia and the acres of city parks, becomes tree-lined shopping in Barrio Norte and Palermo, then moves into high end shops and crowds right before Santa Fe bursts across “the largest street in the world”, where huge buildings create a canyon feeling, with the oblisco in the center of it all. Finally it crosses into Microcentro and a turn east took me to Plaza San Martin and the barrio Retiro, where tourists and business-people relax in the park after shopping on Florida pedestrian street or working in the bank buildings. I’m so happy to finally understand how the city is laid out and how each neighborhood connects with the other. All the little puzzle pieces have finally come together. In Plaza San Martin I sat and had medilunas that I had brought from La Argentina, my favorite confetería just up the street from the apartment. A girl was interruptive dancing with neon green streamers while her friend played the drums, it was very entreating. The street performers around here are so fun, you’ll always find people on stilts or being human statues in San Telmo, but there are also dancers, singers, tango orchestras, even people who perform skits on the subte cars.

I’ve realized that it’s these things and all the little moments that have made my time here memorable. Like hearing a drum school practicing from a rooftop, or being able to hold a conversation with a salesperson, finding something unusual at a fería or seeing a hurried businessman stop to make the sign of the cross in front of a towering cathedral. There are probably moments just like this at home, we probably just don’t have our eyes open to them. I think this is one reason why people like travel so much, it forces you to sit up and pay attention to the world around you.

Last night a group of us went to a tango show at the famed Café Tortoni. The place is almost 150 years old, calling its self the oldest coffee shop in the city (that’s a tall order in a place where you can get a caffeine fix on almost every corner) and was once the hang out of Argentina’s artists and literary elite. Now it’s a must-stop for tourists and visiting dignitaries (from the King of Spain to Hillary Clinton). It’s really beautiful with stained glass windows in the ceiling and art representing all the famous people who have sat in the old leather chairs. The show was in a small saloon in the back, where a traditional tango orchestra made up of piano, violin, bass and bandoneon (the accordion-like instrument unique to Argentine tango) accompanied a singer and a dance couple. It was wonderful, of course and I felt very cool sipping café con leche out of the café’s signature cups. Riding back in a cab, I had one of those “I can’t believe I’m here” moments, where it feels surreal that at that moment I was zooming down Libertador in Buenos Aires at night, returning from a tango show.

Yesterday was Día de los Ñoquis! Those little potato pastas (you probably know them as Gnocchi) are really popular here, and it’s traditional to serve them for dinner on the 29th of each month. The restaurants usually have a special on them, you’ll see it written out on the sandwich boards that stand on the sidewalk where they usually announce the daily special and menú ejectivo (a full lunch for a set price). It’s an Italian tradition that the immigrants brought over – basically the 29th was the day before payday, meaning people couldn’t afford much for dinner. Ñoquis are cheap and filling, so they made for a filling feast with meager money (I love alliteration, can’t you tell?).

I don't know if it was the ñoquis or what, but the city seemed restless yesterday. There were a lot of protests going on in various corners of the city, though Carlos thinks that many of them are anti-Chavez ones related to the elections in Venezuela this Sunday. The protests are both serious and social, often you'll see friends exchanging kisses and gossip while one of them is holding the end of a political banner and even the police that stand to the side spend most of the time chatting. I think they're fascinating and try to read up on the issues afterwards but I avoid the areas where protests are taking place. But sometimes you just stumble across them, and like most of the citizens, I treat it like it's just regular part of life. It's just how the people here choose to express their opnions, because afterall, not everyone can go on a news talk show.

I apologize if I'm repeating myself in these entries. After four months, things are starting to blend together and I can't remember what I've shared and what I've yet to write about.

More photos up, and a video of the tango show. Enjoy! I have some more exploring to do.

Our Thanksgiving, Argentina-style, was wonderful. We had it the day before T-day because Marta and Carlos were leaving for a trip to Entre Rios on the 24th, but it still felt like a real Thanksgiving. It was the first turkey Marta ever cooked and the first I really helped with, but I must say it was tasty. Thankfully, Butterball has a how-to website in Spanish. In addition to the bird, we had puré de papas (mashed potatoes), stuffing (sent down from the states from mom!), rolls, and even pecan pie and ice cream for dessert (the ice cream was ducle de leche flavored, though). There was supposedly cranberry sauce, but I swear everyone here has been pushing blueberries as arándanos (cranberries). Six of my American friends showed up for the celebration and a good time was had by all, as they say. Marta wants me to use the left over turkey to make turkey tacos. Ever since suggested that I’d try my hand at making some Mexican food for her, she’s been very excited. The larger supermarkets have some taco shells and seasonings in their “imported” sections, so we’ll see how they work.

I did miss being able to watch the Macy’s parade. All those marching bands and dance numbers, plus Santa at the end, they just don’t have that here. I did see a parade of sorts the next day, though. A band of school kids took to the streets with a small band, striped pants and lots of confetti. I think they were celebrating graduation, since summer vacation is almost upon them. I posted a video of it when it was stopped for a while on Cabildo street.

The talk around here has been the visit of Bush’s daughters to Argentina, specifically that one of their purses had been stolen. I guess she was in San Telmo and just set it down, which is just plain stupid, no matter how strong your security detail is. Every good traveler knows that you always keep your eye on your valuables. It made for a change in topics with taxi drivers, who usually ask “de dondé sos?” and then upon hearing “estados unidos” either ask about California/Nueva York/Texas or ask how I like the guys in Argentina (for the most part, too aggressive, bad hair, I think). A general consensus is that it was a silly thing to do but there is some reverence for the person who was able to steal a purse under the eye of the secret service. It was funny to see familiar neighborhoods of Argentina reduced to one (usually inaccurate) sentence in the news stories.

In other news, an article ran in La Nacion (the New York Times-like newspaper here) about a psychology study which found that most Argentines expect some amount of corruption in their government and leaders. Says a lot about the history that the people here have lived through.

I read about how they’re trying to introduce a new dollar coin in the US, this time with different president’s faces on it. I have gotten used to having a coin in place of a bill for the one denomination, since there are only one peso coins here, and I like it. It’s pretty easy and really handy for riding buses, buying small things in convenience stores, living tips on coffee, etc. However, being in coin form does seem to take away some of its value, mentally. I still think if you placed a coin and a bill of the same denomination in front of someone, they would reach for the bill. I think the fact that prices are higher here due to inflation, one peso doesn’t go far and makes sense as a coin. It also helps that there are 2 peso bills… I think those are great! Same with the 50 centavo coins. Speaking of money, I think I am going to have a hard time getting used to US prices. I just automatically divide everything by three to get its “real” value, and I’ll probably try to do that when I get home. “Oh boy, this Starbucks coffee isn’t 5 bucks, it’s really only about $1.60.” I was digging through my wallet yesterday when a 20 dollar bill popped up and it all brought on a moment of staring and laughing from my friends who were with me. It really was strange to see American money after seeing the faces of Belgrano, Rosas and friends on the pesos.

With more and more people leaving, the big reminder around here has been: "Don't forget to put your dulce de leche in your checked baggage." Thanks to the “no liquids over 3 oz” rule, packing has to be a little more creative. We’ve talked about the first things we’d eat when we get back to the states. The southwesterners immediately say Mexican food, but a surprising number wanted… Thai food. After that was mom’s/dad’s cooking, and a few people are craving Mac and Cheese. I personally plan to either seek out pancakes or pizza during my layover in Dallas.

I plan to use my last two weeks to the fullest and have a huge list of all the things I want to see and do. I really want to take lots of photos to really capture the city. I feel like I just can’t explain just how huge and lively this city is, how many contrasts you’ll find on every corner. There were hundreds of little scenes that have caught my eye around here, but it’s so hard to capture them on camera. I can see how easy it is to get caught up trying to photograph everything and forget to just look and enjoy.

By the way, have I mentioned how huge and busy this city is? Belgrano, where I live, takes 20 minutes to reach on the direct subte line just from the center of town, and it isn’t even the northernmost neighborhood. There are 36 neighborhoods, equaling about 78 square miles, just in the official city limits, and every inch of that is packed with towering buildings – nearly everything is a shop topped with a 4 – 24 story apartments (the tallest apartment complex is the Kavanagh Apartment Building at 33 stories). The city itself has about 2.7 million people and the “greater Buenos Aires area” has about 12.4 million. (By the way, according to the city website, the BsAs gets around 5.2 million tourists a year), with about 41,000 people per square mile – compare that to Phoenix’s average of 3,000 people per square mile. That’s pretty packed. As you can see, that makes for countless photo ops, and never a dull moment!

I went to Parque Lezama on Sunday, intending just to see the Museo Histórico Nacional and the debated spot of the city's founding. But I found it teeming with people playing, protesting, selling and sitting. There was a huge fería going on, but it was different from the artisan and tourist oriented ones in the rest of the city. Here, it was a bit like a flea market with booths selling clothes (new and used), household goods, toys, and tons of pirated movies and CDs. Lots of people kicked back behind their booths drinking mate and exchanging gossip while kids ran around playing with giant palm fronds that had fallen in the rainy weather. Even the big monument dedicated to Buenos Aire's founding was covered with a banner proclaiming the weekly fair. The history muesuem was interesting, though it was a bit heavy on portaits of offical looking men in colonial suits. I liked noticing the ties between our Revolutionary war with the British and Argentina's own battle with the redcoats. The British invaded the area in 1806 and 1807, trying to take over the Spanish's colonies. However, the Argentines succeded both times in pushing the British out and eventually declared themselves independent - of both the Spanish and the English - in 1810. There was a big model of the British invasion and I realized that the area of their invasion was the very same hill where bootleg Rolling Stone albums and outlet convertors are now being sold. Kind of cool. Argentina even had it's own Continental Congress, and its declaration of independence from Spain was on display, complete with flourished signatures. I didn't look to see if there was a Juan Hancoco.

Wow, that's a lot of stats and history. Here's some silly commericals they have down here:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IriuySvQ0GM
Telecom ran three commericals that portray a guy running a website asking for donations so he can get hair transplants. This is the second one, where he tells his audience he's really greatful for the money so far that has bought him *this* much hair... but he'd really appreciate if they'd help him out for the rest.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=b-mj3DyXt_8
I just like the idea of "driving" through the city this way. Plus it has some great views of Buenos Aires. (Dueño means "owner" or "own it" in this case)

Whew, what a trip! Ten days through northern Argentina, and it felt like we spent half of that time on buses, ranging from run down transports stuffed with people and luggage, to the “cama” omnibuses with seats that fully reclined backwards, food service and movies.

We basically went nonstop, and covered over 2,000 miles, explored 7 cities, and saw countless more. There were four of us girls, all from the US (New Jersey, Texas, Georgia, and Arizona, of course!)

Our first stop was the tree-lined, wine producing city of Mendoza where we arrived at 8 a.m. our first morning. After checking into our hostel, we decided we needed a good rinse off after spending the night in the bus, and so we headed up to some natural hot springs about an hour west, in Cacheuta. I fell asleep on the bus ride over (this became a common occurrence) and when I woke up, the landscape looked so much like Arizona, especially around the Superstitions, that I had a moment of “where am I?” The baths were relaxing even in the heat, supposedly having medicinal powers, and there was even the tiniest of water parks with one slide and a “lazy river” for wading around in a slow circle. Little stalls sold local souvenirs, carved wood sculptures or countless styles of wine openers. (http://www.termascacheuta.com/)

At night we walked through the city, which is arranged around five large parks/plazas aligned like the five dots on dice. All the streets in Mendoza are lined with shallow canals, which provide water to the town, as well as to the wineries and the huge trees. They are actually based on ancient aqueducts and are fed by the Mendoza river.You have to be extra careful when stepping off the sidewalk, so that you don’t end up all wet.

We were feeling adventurous and signed up for an expedition with Argentina Rafting the next day. It was hot, hot, hot, and so we were less than thrilled when we were handed wet suits for rafting the Mendoza river. However, after carrying a bright yellow, seven person raft into the freezing waters, we greatly appreciated squeezing into those suits. The river was jumpy and had lots of rapids, and our guide took us right through them, calling out “forward, please” or “back, please” in rough English. We were thoroughly soaked and had a blast, and no one fell out. Success! Afterwards, we tried canopying, which involved zip lining across the mountain peaks around the river. I even tried one run hanging upside down, definitely a new perspective on the world. (http://www.argentinarafting.com/)

Still sore from all that paddling, we thought it would be a good idea to explore the “bodegas”, wineries that were making Mendoza so famous. We went through a company called “Bikes and Wines” (http://www.bikesandwines.com/) which rented out bright yellow mountain bikes complete with saddle bags for all our grape-related purchases. Really, the best part of the whole thing was peddling through the province where both farms and vineyards stretched out in all directions, with the Andes in the background. Trucks laden with grapes rumbled by, leaving behind a distinct wine-y smell, and were often followed by a truck of workers heading out to work in the vineyards. In this region, the Malbec grape has thrived better than its native France, though most will call it an Argentine native, and Argentina is growing in it’s wine production and exportation – 5th in the world right now. I’m not much of a vino connoisseur, so I just enjoyed the free tastings and thought it all seemed good overall. I preferred the olive oil factory and a family-run business that made homemade “dulces”, including liquors in flavors ranging from “pomelo” (grapefruit) to dulce de leche) and lots of chocolate. No, we did not have any problems keeping those bikes steady, even at the end.

Caught a bus late that night up to Salta, where the weather grew warmer and the buildings got smaller. Red tiled roofs and colonial architecture characterized the little city tucked among the mountains. There laid-back and openness of the provinces became increasingly evident. Everyone was extremely friendly, and all the cab drivers immediately asked where we were from and how much we loved Argentina. We stayed at “La Casa de Abuela” (Grandma’s House) hostel and spent the evening walking through plazas and looking at the ornate churches in the center of the city. Dinner was at a peña, a traditional restaurant with folk singers and dancers. A group of men sang in perfect harmony with guitars and drums while a man in gaucho gear and a woman in a flowey dress performed folk dances. Lots of spinning and foot stomping, and often the couple would wave handkerchiefs, imitating a flirtatious courtship. It was so different from the tango that dominates Buenos Aires. The menus in Salta and beyond carried llama and goat, in addition to the regular chicken and beef.

Llamas are common in the northern area. Their wool is used to make all kinds of clothes, they serve as pack animals, and will protect sheep if they are put in charge of the herd. (However, my friend Danielle explained that since llamas are extremely social creatures, you can only have one llama in with your sheep, as multiple llamas will “talk” to each other, ignoring the flock. Sounds like high school.) And I guess they also make for good empanadas.

Another bus ride to Jujuy, where we only stayed in town long enough to buy a bottle of agua sin gas and Quatro (carbonated grapefruit juice) before catching another bus up to tiny Tilcara. We stood out in the small bus station with our brightly colored rolling suitcases. Most people carried their things in canvas bags or duffels, or taped up in cardboard boxes. Clothing wasn’t the only thing that went on the busses, I watched bags of grains, animal feed and fresh cut flowers being pulled out of the luggage hold. I watched the small towns go by and the increasing green of the landscape. Animals roamed along the sides of the road, cows, sheep and goats, pigs trotting down the street, while horses ran by. My favorite part was all the chickens strolling through front yards and down roads. Along with the animals, I spotted many roadside shrines to Gaucho Gil, a Billy The Kid meets Robin Hood legend from the 19th century. Red is his symbol and many people stop to pay homage for safe trips along the roads.

The further north we went, the less developed the towns were. I can’t entirely say that it was an increase in poverty, though. It just became a melding of old, traditional, and a different way of life. They could be called poor by our standards, but it seemed almost inappropriate to compare these northern towns with life in the US.

Tilcara was at the base of beautiful mountain ranges, spotted with saguaros (they were fuzzier than their Arizona counterparts). The more indigenous traditions of Argentina still exist in this area of the country, where family farms are still run and there is lingering belief in the “pachamama”, a mother nature figure. Many of the houses are made of handmade mud bricks or rocks and use prickly pear or broken glass bottles at the top of their fences as a form of barbed wire. Some old women still wore traditional wide brimmed hats over long graying braids and layers of skirts and most of the town looked very much like their ancestors. We stayed in a hostel that was friendly, but was a little too mosquito prone, and I learned that yes, it is possible to get a mosquito bite on your eyelid.

Despite that small set-back, we took a great hike up to Garganta del Diablo, a beautiful waterfall deep in the rocks. The thin air from the high elevation made it a grueling hike, but our guide managed to talk non-stop the entire time, pointing out the picaflores (hummingbirds) that swooped around and demonstrating how the rocks changed color with the river water. That night we heard more traditional music, this time by a trio with wooden flutes, a guitar, and a large man with the tiniest ukulele I have ever seen. (http://www.enjoy-argentina.org/jujuy-destinations-jujuy-tilcara.php)

An entire day was spent on the omnibus, which played American movies dubbed in Spanish, ranging from “Ladder 49” to “Big Momma’s House 2”. We also played bus Bingo for a prize of (cheap) wine, a little exercise in the Spanish numbers for me. Córdoba was our last stop, a city of churches and universities, lots of students out at all hours of the night.( http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/C%C3%B3rdoba,_Argentina)The buildings were beautiful, with ornate, Spanish buildings and European stylings that I would probably appreciate more with a little architecture background. We actually went to the smaller town of Alta Gracia (http://www.moon.com/planner/argentina/mustsee/alta_gracia.html), because my friends wanted to see the childhood home of Che Guevara. He lived in the city for about 11 years in his childhood, and his house had been converted into a museum. Lots of childhood memorabilia, as well as a replica of the motorcycle he rode in the trip chronicled by “The Motorcycle Diaries”, and even one of his famous berets with the star perched on the rim. There were also large photos taken of the July 2006 visit of Fidel Castro and Hugo Chavez to the museum, which must have been a very interesting moment. My favorite part of the little town was the ancient clock tower and its nearby park, which was filled with families on the Sunday afternoon. There were picnics and lots of fútbol games, as well as a little carnival set up. We enjoyed an ice cream (of course!) and the sun. Finally, back in Córdoba, we stopped by the huge fería of artisan goods and antiques, because shopping is always a good way to end a trip.

Ten days, then back in Buenos Aires. The bustle and loudness of the city was almost shocking when we stepped out of the bus station. It’s so true that the rest of the country is totally different from this big city, and the north especially proves this. I really enjoyed the laid-back days and open spaces of the northern provinces and the casual, more traditional approaches to life. We saw many towns close their doors in the late afternoon for siesta, that long meal/family time/nap that everyone seems to hear about. Few people in BsAs take that time, but in places like Mendoza, most stores would have handwritten signs saying that they will return around 5 p.m. It was a breath of relief to get out in the mountains and little touch of home to be out in familiar desert scrub.

We all also learned what it’s like to really be nomadic for a time, traveling every few days to a new place with just our suitcases in hand. Thanks to the long bus days and the lack of air conditioning, we had to deal with being dirty and dusty at times, and this shower-a-day girl realized that sometimes it’s ok to go without for a little bit longer (though I’m happy to be cleaned up now). We learned bus schedules, how to pack in everything we wanted to do in the days and how to find our way through a new place every couple of nights. Lots of great pictures and memories, and the four of us managed to get along pretty well the entire trip, remaining friends all the way back to Buenos Aires. Now that’s an accomplishment!

I’m back “home” in the city, for just about two and a half weeks, wow. Today is our Thanksgiving dinner, and here’s hoping that our 6 kilo (about 13 pound) turkey turns out great – and on time.

I’ll post pictures later in the week. Happy Thanksgiving!

I hate to brag… but I’m done with school until January.

Yes, I took my ‘hoja de situación’ (a paper with my final grades) to my adviser, handed it over and took the elevators down, leaving the Universidad de Belgrano for the last time. Sigh.

For the international students, school is over with. The Argentine students have a month to complete finals and projects and will be done in early December. But for us, it’s travel time. People are streaming out all over Argentina, from Iguazú falls in the north down to Ushuaia at the very tippy south, plus across to Chile, Peru, Paraguay, and Brazil.

It definitely has been quite an experience going to school in a foreign country. I think the biggest thing I’ve learned is just how structured and methodical our school system is. Every thing starts on time, every class gives out a syllabus, there are assigned readings and homework nearly daily. We have notes, power point presentations, and specific guidelines on how to write our papers, down to the margin size. Here, it was definitely more lax, something that took a bit of getting used to (and what many students took advantage of). I think the attitude is more like “look, you’re the one who’s going to benefit or be hurt, so you’re the one who chooses how much effort to put into things.” One professor was incredulous when we asked whether she wanted an essay double or single spaced. I bought books for history, but we were never told what pages to read. However, I learned that the professors would expect us to participate in conversations and that it was much less embarrassing to have the knowledge from my texts to draw from. I also had to step back years of training myself to actually get to class on time, because usually the professors showed up 10 to 15 minutes late. That bothered me at first, but I like it now, knowing that if something comes up in the morning, I don’t have the added stress of racing to class. Of course, this will make jumping back into the UA system all the more difficult – that, and having 8 a.m. classes after getting used to 1 p.m. and 5 p.m. classes. No more weeknights up until 3 a.m., I guess.

(Fun fact: Argentina’s public universities, like University of Buenos Aires, are totally free to all Argentine citizens.)

I think the most frustrating thing was dealing with the administrative things. Going to class and gleaning what you like is great, but when you have to deal with official stuff like grades and attendance, that’s where the trouble starts. It’s been especially hard dealing with electronic attendance machines that didn’t work most of the time and waiting for professors to show up this week so we can receive our grades from them. It’s a little intimidating to have your actual instructor write down your final grade in front of you, but I suppose it allows you to settle any disagreements over it right then and there.

Overall, I had a great time, but I do miss the UA. I guess you can take the girl out of the public school system, but you can’t take the public schools out of the girl.

The classes were really enjoyable, though, and I learned an incredible amount about Argentina. It all pieces together, and now I’m like “oh, I understand what that is that way…”. Plus, all the street names make more sense now that I’ve learned about all the people and dates (yes dates. On the way to school I pass “3 de Febrero” street and of course the largest street in the world is “9 de Julio”) they’re named after. If I every go on Jeopardy! and I get a category called “Argentina”, I know I’ll win.

I definitely have a new perspective on the country and on South America. I realize now that I don’t know that much about world history, beyond the very basics and subjects that involve the US. Perhaps it’s something I should read up on. Better yet, how about I travel around the world and learn that history first hand? I like that idea.

Enough school, onto the fun stuff!

Three friends and I have been planning to travel for a while and everything came together for this next week. Needless to say, I am really excited about our “big” trip, 10 days of exploring northern Argentina. Basically it’s three little trips in one, connected by a series of 12 hour or so bus rides. It’s a chance to get out in the country and see the more provincial and traditional side of Argentina, and is supposed to boast some spectacular scenery.

We’re starting out in Mendoza, which is at the foot of the Andes, and we’ll be there for about four days. It’s supposed to be a little oasis in the desert thanks to an ancient irrigation system, and it’s also the heart of wine country. For those of you who are sommeliers in training, Malbec is the most famous Argentine wine and comes from this region. Then it’s up to the Salta and Jujuy provinces in the very corner of the country for another four days, full of colonial buildings and century old traditions, plus landscape that looks surprisingly like Arizona. Finally we’ll stop in the central town of Córdoba for a last day, where there are lots of mountains, Jesuit missions, and universities – if you’re studying abroad, this is the second most likely placed you’d live, after BsAs. Then it’s back to Buenos Aires on the 20th, just in time to get everything together for out Thanksgiving meal. Hopefully I’ll get to go to Iguazu at the beginning of December.


By the way, Jujuy is pronounced “who-who-ey” or “huoy-huoyy”, depending on who you ask.

A few websites about the various places we may go:

Mendoza:
http://www.welcomeargentina.com/mendoza/index_i.html

Salta and Jujuy:
http://www.traveltango.com.ar/english/arg/sla_juj/sla_jujuy_eng.htm
A tour company we’re going to use: http://www.tilcaramantha.com.ar/

Córdoba:
http://www.geographia.com/argentina/cordoba/ (try the links on the left)
The hostel we’re staying in: http://www.latitudsurtrek.com.ar

A map of Argentina, so you can have an idea where I'll be going. Cordoba, Mendoza and Salta form a line up the northwestern part of the country:

It’s a rainy day so here’s another entry. Doing a little shopping and people-watching led a couple of friends and I to talk about experiencing the beauty culture here in Buenos Aires.

The favorite topic of the guys in our study abroad program, besides what bars and restaurants they visited last night, is the women of Argentina. They say they are the most beautiful in the world, and wax “poetic” about them, much to they eye rolling and grumbling of the girls. This has led to some debates in a few of our classes, though I don’t think anyone’s opinions change at the end of it. However, the women here are generally thin and well-dressed, and so many here have a combination of Italian and Spanish genes, so it’s not hard to see where their infatuation comes from. The Argentine guys have, on the other hand, an affinity for mullets, strange faux-hawks and rat tails (a long, sad, often pony-tailed chunk of hair at the base of an otherwise short cut), so you don’t really hear the foreign girls singing their praises.

There honestly aren’t any noticeably over-weight people. There are a variety of sizes but the obesity-epidemic so talked about in the US clearly doesn’t exist over here. It could be argued that it’s because many people are still pinching pesos in the post-economic crash era and can’t afford to eat extravagantly, but it’s also very much a cultural thing (and there is a regular amount of porteños that, judging by the packed restaurants on the weekends, eat quite well). “Thin is in”, as they say, and I can see that the pressure to look good and slender is pretty big around here. There is a huge push of conformity, looking alike = fitting in. Many times I’ll see girls wearing nearly identical outfits walking down the streets together. Something that would mortify a pair of American friends is common here. The stores carry many of the same styles of clothes and I’ve been able to pick up what fashion trends are in around here by repetition - that is, the sheer numbers of women wearing similar stuff kind of makes it hard to miss.

The sad part is its negative effects on the girls here. Anorexia and Bulimia rates are high, the second highest in the world following Japan. A law was passed in May requiring clothing stores to start carrying larger sizes, sizes for “normal girls”, hoping that it would help stem some of the eating disorders. And it’s true, the clothing here is tiny! I may wear smalls and mediums at home but in BsAs I have to go straight for the larges and extra larges in the sections (if those can be found at all) and forget finding a pair of jeans that fits this American bottom. I’m lucky enough to be able to dismiss it as things just being different in a foreign country, but I can’t imagine growing up with that.

A fascinating BBC report on it and the obsession with appearance here: http://www.bbc.co.uk/radio4/womanshour/04/2006_21_tue.shtml
(the lady’s description of trying on jeans is exactly like my first encounter with their pants!)

Supposedly plastic surgery is popular around here and a high number of people have had procedures done, but I couldn’t find good stats to back this up… it’s more of a “I’ve heard about it in many places” kind of thing, evidence that definitely wouldn’t get me a good grade when writing a paper for class, he he. Interestingly, I have read a lot about how the industry is growing even more thanks to tourists. The good dollar/euro to peso exchange rate has made Buenos Aires a hot stop for cheap plastic surgery procedures. Google “plastic surgery Argentina” and the first thing that comes up is “Health Tourism”, the sunny name attached to the growing trend of taking a vacation to a foreign country for a little sightseeing and surgery. I don’t know about you, but I don’t think that sounds like the most relaxing way to spend time off.

Of course, this all "in general." Obviuosly there are millions of people here, and so many don't fit under these ideas - like any where in the world. And it's more related to Buenos Aires than the rest of Argentina... the porteño life really is different than that of the provinces, something I learn more and more about when I go on trips beyond the big city’s borders. I think it’s true that living in BsAs is almost like a living in a whole different country, so I feel lucky to be living here but also to have to time travel around. I get a little taste of everything!

It’s been a while since I’ve updated! It’s finals week around here, and “10 pages” seems to be the magic number for my professors when assigning papers. I finished a paper on the history of Argentine cinema and managed to analyze The Seven Madmen, a novel I felt was about to drive me crazy. Existentialism just isn’t up my ally.

Many people asked about Halloween around here. It certainly isn’t the huge holiday like in the States, though I’ve heard that our commercial influence is making it grow bigger each year. The few little costume stores were overrun with foreign students who decided give the Halloween spirit a little help around here. We all had to make costumes with what we could find, so I think a lot of host parents had missing sheets for “Greek”/toga costumes. Most guys I saw just put on a fútbol jersey and went as miscellaneous Argentine sport fan. There were a few children out with their parents, usually with just masks or face paint, and I think they were trick-or-treating at the various businesses that were open in the evening, especially the kioskos. I did see one person standing outside McDonalds in a towel and swim cap, but you can never be quite sure if that’s a costume or not. I went to a Halloween party that my friend Sophie threw with her two roommates in little apartment with a tiny rooftop garden. Lots of fun but sadly no candy – just empanadas. I went as a lady bug, by the way. Found a pair of antennae in a shop and sewed big black felt dots on the back of a red shirt. I did miss the crazy costumes and all the work that seems to go into Halloween fun at home, though I did get to see a lot of pictures from friends.

There isn’t any celebration for “Día de los Muertes”, that’s more of a Mexican thing, and “All Saints Day” is a more religious celebration down here. I guess the next big holiday is Christmas around here – I must tell you, I saw a street seller with four guitar-playing Santa Clauses set up today. I guess every store, great and small, gets started on the holiday season early.

We are going to have a Thanksgiving dinner down here. Marta got very excited at the idea and has already told me we are going shopping for some of the food on Wednesday. She likes to get started early, I guess. A turkey has to be special ordered through “Todo Pollo” and cranberries have to be purchased from the giant supermarket that carries imported food – there are literally no cranberries here. They’ll probably be next to the salsa, the Nestle’s Quick and the Heinz ketchup.

When I asked Marta about the possibility of having a Thanksgiving meal here, she immediately jumped up and exclaimed that she had “an American cookbook”. She then took down a huge yellowed book that looks like an ancient Good Housekeeping tome. I knew it was outdated when I saw the menu idea section started with “dinner party with servant.” Sure enough, the copyright date was 1948. The recipes for Thanksgiving dinner are amazingly complicated and I’m trying to convince her that all we need is a basic turkey and some mashed potatoes and we’ll be happy. Because I honestly don’t know where I would get fresh chestnuts for the 15 ingredient stuffing. It did have a section on “dieting”, where the advice was surprisingly relevant – watch your fats, keep portions small, exercise and have lots of veggies. I guess some things never change.

I haven’t done any terribly exciting touristy stuff, mostly sticking to my routine and studying. I have been making the rounds on the museums around here, that’s a large section of my guidebook and visiting them is filling in the little pieces of Argentine life and history. Many are in old mansions and houses that have been donated and restored, and that alone is amazing to see. The European influence is so strong on these places, you can feel like you’re in Italy or France while inside. There seems to be a museum for everything and everyone – I visited an exhibit on the evolution of Argentine money one day and saw a collection of century-old clothing another day. By the way, I learned that today’s peso is worth about 1 trillion pesos from 1825. The inflation situation got so bad that in 1985 they tried to replace the peso with the Austral, which equaled 1,000 pesos. Kind of makes you realize how weird this whole money system is when they can just replace one kind with another. Guess I’ll learn more about this in my intro to Economics class next semester. Woot.

As a study break/birthday celebration for a friend, a group of us went out the Greek restaurant Mykonos, where the waiters do traditional dances between serving and every diner gets a complimentary plate to smash during the biggest dance number. I don’t think I’ve ever gotten to purposely smash dishes, it was quite fun.

School’s done for good next week, we just have to show up at a certain time and have our professors sign whether we passed or not… that could be a potentially awkward situation for some people! It’s travel time afterwards and I’m trying to coordinate a big trip through the northern section of Argentina. Of course, it’s a difficult process because everyone has different opinions of where to go and when, and since we’ve all traveled at different times, there’s a lot of “well, I’ve already been there”/“but I haven’t!” I think it will all work out and it’s looking like we’ll make a loop, crossing the country through friendly Córdoba and Mendoza wine country, then up to the more provincial Salta and Jujuy, and finally seeing the famous Iguazu falls, which are on the Argentine – Brazil border and are supposed to be more incredible than Niagara Falls. Some people wanted to go to Ushuaia, the last town in South America before Antarctica, but the runway there has been closed due to extreme weather. Yeah, I think I’ll be skipping that.

Less than six weeks left, that’s just amazing! Lots more to see, pictures to take, and souvenir shopping to do!

¡Oooooh, hace mucho calor acá! So you guys must have sent the warm weather south for the winter, because it is sweltering around here. I guess one of my many lessons of this trip: learning to live where it’s humid and lacking in air conditioning.

Marta said this isn’t normal for October, and that today it was the hottest it’s been in 60 years. 87 degrees (F) and 50% humidity. Fun! Looks like rain is on the way, however. I’ve also learned that weather is the international topic of conversation. I’m sure that right now from Argentina to Zimbabwe, someone is talking to someone else about the heat/cold/rain/drought/wind/hail and everything in between.

Despite the sluggishness that has been induced and the, ehem, joy, that is an un-air-conditioned subte, I’ve managed to be quite busy, working my way through my guidebooks and to-do lists. We went to a couple ferías this weekend, one at the busy Plaza Serrano, where budding (or bombing, depending on your tastes) fashion designers show off their clothes and there is plenty of jewelry and art to choose from. Sunday we took the 63 colectivo for an hour’s ride to the very southern barrio of BsAs for the fería de Mataderos, which was absolutely wonderful. There were booths after booths of artisan crafts, as well as folk music and folk dancing. People dressed in traditional gaucho wear were racing horses and the parilla restaurants were packed.

Yesterday I spent hours reading in the little oasis of the city’s Botanical Garden. It’s a haven for city folk and cats alike. The greenery is amazing and there are plants from all over the world bursting at the gates. Arts students were sketching the many sculptures and a fashion shoot was taking advantage of a particularly jungle-looking area to do some tropical scene. Oh yes, and I’ve gone to class somewhere in there. Just two weeks left, actually, a few 10 page papers to finish and that’s it. I’ll try not to rub it in (though remember, I started at the end of July).

I also delved into some of the more political and social history of Argentina by watching Las Madres de la Plaza de Mayo march on Thursday, and visiting the Evita museum on Friday.

Las Madres: Every Thursday at 3:30 p.m. a group of women tie on white handkerchiefs and march (well, more like shuffle) around the plaza in a protest and plea for their lost children/grandchildren, called “los desaparecidos”. These women, mostly grandmothers now, have been doing this for almost 30 years, since the military dictatorship in the ‘70s that resulted in the “disappearance” of over 30,000 people.

It’s a dark period in the country’s history, called “The Dirty War”, where anyone suspected of conspiring against the dictatorship was taken away to concentration camps all over the city. Most were taken suddenly in the night, and few were seen again. It’s a subject that is not brought up casually, especially since a large majority of the population were teenagers and young adults then and saw it all. The madres work to find their children or their grandchildren born to pregnant mothers and then given to government supporters that couldn’t have children. There’s a strong movie about this called “The Official Story” if you are interested in it. Over the years, the madres have taken a political turn and even have their own, leftist-leaning college. They’ve split into two groups, due to certain members wanting to be more involved in politics.

We sat outside next to the plaza and sure enough, older women gathered in the corners next to booths selling books and posters about the cause. They had white handkerchiefs embroidered in blue with their group and names of their missing. Some even wore signs with pictures of children, husbands, boyfriends and friends. The group was smaller than I imagined, only about 40 or so (including various supporters from all ages). The tourists nearly outnumbered the women, and they (the tourists) lined up in with their cameras snapping like paparazzi. It took a little away from the experience that the march has become another “must see” travel stop, but then it’s good that the women are still reminding everyone, especially those from abroad, what went on and trying to make sure it doesn’t happen again. And I guess I was one of those photo snappers, so I'm hardly one to talk.

It’s hard to find unbiased info on the madres, but here’s a basic site:
http://experts.about.com/e/m/mo/Mothers_of_the_Plaza_de_Mayo.htm

For a more military explanation of The Dirty War: http://www.globalsecurity.org/military/world/war/argentina.htm

Evita:

Before I arrived in Argentina, my information on Eva (Evita) Perón was limited to three sources: a.) What I had heard about the Webber movie/musical, mostly the song “Don’t Cry For Me Argentina” b.) A brief paragraph in my Spanish book about the dynamic duo of Juan and Eva c.) An even briefer mention in my guidebook that put Evita and Perionism on a list of “taboo topics”. However, she still manages to "live on" in Argentina, where locals still either love her or hate her and Peronism still runs through politics.

From my history class, a crash course in Evita and Peronism: In the post-WWII period, Argentina was reeling from a series of military coups that basically played tug-a-war between left and right, democratic leaning and socialist leaning, the usual story. Perón built his power on union support and workers’ rights, and was elected president in 1946 with his wife, Evita, by his side. The two were champions of the poor laborers in Argentina and created many social programs, public services and gave workers things like lunch breaks and vacations. Evita was crucial in this area, creating women’s shelters, low-incomes housing, schools and after-school clubs and so on. She even got the vote for women so that more people would re-elect her husband. However, Perón was very much a dictator with plenty of enemies (including the US) and after Evita died of cancer in 1952, it all went downhill from there. He was ousted in 1955, and many blame his decline on the death of Evita.

For Argentines, Evita was either a saint or a devil. To the lower class, her “little greasers”, she brought them everything from sewing machines to dentures and gave the working class rights they had never had before. However, to others, especially the middle and upper classes, she was despised, called names and cursed. Living under a dictatorship took away their personal freedoms and she was seen as abrasive, pushy and too powerful. She came from questionable beginnings, a rags-to-riches story of a girl struggling to make it in movies and radio until she met Juan Perón at a earthquake relief fundraiser. She became one of the most powerful women in politics and nearly overshadowed Juan. After her death, she still had influence on the country as the existence of her body still gave power to the Peronist movement. It was kidnapped, returned, moved and hidden until recent years, where she is buried in Recoleta. We’re reading a fascinating book called “Santa Evita” in my lit class, that tells about how she divided the country and how her body caused more of an uproar than she did while alive.

The Evita Museum is in one of the houses where Evita had her women’s shelters. She purposely choose a rich neighborhood in Palermo to open the organization, which you can imagine did not go over well with the wealthy neighbors. The museum has an amazing collection of memorabilia, including official documents, newspapers from the time, Peronist propaganda and videos of her (they even show the few movies she starred in… most copies were conveniently destroyed when Juan took power). Admitedly, my favorite part were the amazing clothes and jewelry she wore, something she was also very famous for - top designers and incredible dresses in pristine condition as well as perfectly coordinated outfits for visiting factories and children’s clubs. The museum was pretty much a fawning tribute to Evita, but to its credit they did include some of the dissenting opinions of her. I think she’s fascinating, but it would be impossible for me to truly form an opinion without living through that era.

Good ol’ wikipedia has some info:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Eva_Per%C3%B3n


That’s enough history for now. More museums to visit tomorrow, since they are air-conditioned and those papers to write. Plus, a Halloween costume to think up. Yes, we Americans can’t let an October 31 go by without indulging in our inner trick-or-treaters.

A little late on the update, I had to spend some time catching up on homework and dealing with spring registration stuff. It’s amazing to already be thinking about the spring semester back at UA, and beyond. I’m planning on graduating in Dec. 2007, so I have to carefully arrange my schedules for the next semesters to get every last credit in. It is a little confusing to be thinking so much about things from home when I’ve been off in Argentina-land for this long. Thursday marked three months since I first set foot on South American soil, and I have just over seven weeks left. Now that’s hard to believe! (That also means that you have less than seven weeks until the holiday rush starts, ha ha.) I’m flying home on Dec. 10 - 11, meaning I’ll be back in the states on my birthday. But let’s not think about that now. Uruguay, here we go!

I didn’t realize how excited I was to be traveling to another country until they stamped my passport leaving Argentina. They say Uruguay is very similar to its larger southern neighbor, but it is still a unique “pais”. It’s sometimes called the Switzerland of South America because it has been a relatively peaceful country. And, when you’re sandwiched between the two biggest countries on the continent, it’s vital to stay neutral. Uruguay is the buffer between Brazil and Argentina, though both places have tried to claim the area for themselves. It still retains some of its own traditions, a more rural population, and boasts some of the quietest and prettiest beaches around. ( A quick geography lesson )

The Rio de la Plata is the second biggest river in South America, after the Amazon, and creates a border between Argentina and Uruguay. It’s a huge body of water that takes 3 hours or 45 minutes to cross, depending on the speed of the boat you’re taking. The best way to cross is by Buquebus (“boo-key-boos”), huge ferries that can hold hundreds of people, a parking lot full of cars, and that have their own café, duty-free shop and arcade. I certainly enjoyed playing Tetris and pinball on the way over. My friend Franca lived in Uruguay for the first 8 years of her life and she organized this whole trip, serving as our unofficial tour guide. She also introduced us to Spanish-style playing cards and the games that go with it – the suits are copa (cup), oro (coin, gold), espada (sword), and basto (club – literally that you’d club something with) and it quickly passed the ferry time. We arrived in Colonia, a small historical city directly across from BsAs, and jumped onto a bus to Montevideo. Two hours east and we were in the capital.

Montevideo seemed so much smaller compared to sprawling Buenos Aires but it had the advantage of a beautiful coastline. It sits at the point where the river Plata meets the Atlantic Ocean, and it’s possible to see the line between the two waters. There were still skyscraper apartments and tightly packed neighborhoods, but more space, lots of palm trees and a distinctly middle-class feel to the whole place. It was pretty bustling for a Wednesday afternoon as we checked into the aging Las Angeles Hotel. Our hotel was at the center of town, on 18 de Julio street (named for the country’s independence day). We headed out to see the city, walking along “La Rambla”, a sidewalk that hugs the beaches and fishing areas. We stopped to have Chivitos, the crowning Uruguayan dish and the biggest pile of food I’ve ever seen – steak, ham, bacon and hard-broiled eggs cover a bed of vegetables, French fries and Russain salad, and is topped with mayo and whatever else you could possibly want to add. It has something for everyone, I guess. Needless to say, I could never finish one of those monsters, and I think I’m glad I didn’t.

The rest of our group arrived early Thursday morning, making six of us in all. We spent most of our time exploring the city, taking pictures of historic sites and each other, and on the beach, stubbornly trying to relax despite blowing wind and grey skies. At night we tried different restaurants, including amazing parilla (BBQ) for less than US $10, and the first- and probably only- tenedor libre Uruguayan/Chinese restaurant (literally “free fork”… All-You-Can-Eat). We looked through jewelry and gourd sculptures at the ferías, and watched couples tango dancing in the parks.

A couple times we came upon Candombe groups marching through the streets playing their drums, which looked like large, elongated bongos. From what I’ve learned, Candombe is a musical style using a band of drummers. It grew out of African slaves living in Uruguay and South America. When Uruguay had the radical idea to give the slaves Sundays off, the drums were used as a method of calling families and friends together. People continue to play on Sundays in Montevideo, either at meeting places or in the streets. Often they’ll light small fires in the gutters so they can tune their drums and then off they go, collectivos, cars and taxis creeping behind them until the next corner. Many women dance in front of the slowly shuffling parade, and locals and tourists can get swept up in the fun. I think I enjoy this kind of music roaming the streets over the thumping basslines coming from cars at home.

( Can you candombe? )

Sunday was spent at Punta Del Este, supposedly one of the rich and famous hotspots. There were beautiful houses built over-looking the two beaches (it’s on a peninsula) and lots of beachy souvenir shops. Most of the shop owners and souvenir sellers would try to speak English to me, even when I asked questions in Spanish, and they kept quoting prices in dollars. I haven’t seen American money since I exchanged it in the airport, and I was really trying to practice my Spanish, so it started to grate on me after a while. The beach was beautiful but cold, and we had the most fun taking pictures of La Mano, a giant cement hand rising out of the sand. Each finger was about 3 to 4 times as tall as I was.

By the way, the Uruguayan currency is also pesos, with a 25 – 1 dollar exchange rate. It was a bit shocking to see prices in double digits, and to get a 1,000 peso bill out of the ATM. (For a picture of the 5 peso note, visit http://www.banknotes.com/uy80.htm )

The best day was spent a bus ride outside of Montevideo, at Franca’s grandparents’ house. It was blissfully away from the tall buildings and noise of the city, in a neighborhood of pretty, one-story houses connected by gravel roads. Everyone rode bikes around and dogs played in nearly every yard. We were just six blocks from the beach and spent most of the beautiful day in the sun and water (we did build an impressive sand castle while there). Afterwards we had a late lunch of pizza and parilla, feeding the dogs under the tables and watching for the cats. We sat on the porch trying yerba mate (“mah-tā”), the traditional drink in Uruguay and Argentina. Uruguayans walk around with a mate mug in one hand and a thermos full of the drink under their arm. You’ll see it on the streets, in restaurants and I even saw a guy riding a bike with his mate. It’s a little like seeing people walking around holding their coffee mugs with the coffee pot slung over their shoulder.

( Mate pics )

Mate: a strong herbal drink with a resemblance to green tea. The herbs are loose and seeped in hot water. It’s a very social drink, meant to be passed around a group. The host fills the mug with water and passes it to the first guest, who is supposed to drink all the liquid from a special silver straw. The mug is then refilled and passed to the next person. Mate mugs are made either from gourds or from metal and are often intricately decorated. The drink is very strong, by the way.

All in all, a great trip. We had less tours and plans than past excursions, so it was pretty laid back. I came back sunburned and happy, but glad to be back to my familiar streets and room in Argentina. And yes, even back to Marta’s food, fried steak, vegetable pies and all.

Che chicos!

Well, I've returned from a great trip to Uruguay, and I'm so excited to have another stamp in my passport! I'm a pretty pooped from the trip, especially since we caught the bus out of Montevideo at 2 a.m. and didn't arrive back on Buenos Aires shore until 7 a.m., so I'll do a write up tomorrow. I did put my pictures up on photobucket, so you can check that out for now. Kind of like previews... Coming Soon - "URUGUAY!" Oooh, the anticipation.

Since I have internet connection in my room now, I can upload some of the short videos I've taken with my camera. They're also at photobucket, under "videos": http://s92.photobucket.com/albums/l16/wrenfliessouth/

There has been an influx of people singing or whistling on the street outside my window. Must be the nice weather or something. They aren’t very good but seem to be happy, and it’s a nice change from collectivos and little yippie dogs.

Yesterday was the big Boca vs River fútbol game. I watched some of it, mostly to watch the chaos of the crowd. It was a raucous good time, though sadly River prevailed 3 - 1. Somewhere along the line, the question of “why does the world love fútbol so much?” came up.The best answer I’ve heard is that it only requires a ball, or even just something kickable. No goalposts, baskets, bats or clubs, complicated courts or referees needed. It makes it very much an “every man” sort of sport, one that can be played in the slums along the river or in the million dollar stadiums. With the bright sunny days, every park has a group kicking around a fútbol and it just seems to make people happy.

The weekend was pleasantly busy, which I love because I feel like I’ve accomplished something. Salsa dancing at Azucar until 4 a.m., mixing with locals and tourists alike at Plaza Serrano, and exploring the barrio of Balvenera. Balvenera is supposedly the most densely populated neighborhood in the city and it’s packed with both stores and apartments. It also contains Argentina’s congressional building, with architecture that is close to our own in Washington. The main streets are packed with middle class shopping and stores spilling onto the sidewalks. You name it, it’s hanging in one of the windows on Corrientes or Córdoba. Saturday seems to be shopping day, so it was especially busy. Of course, just like at our malls, many people stroll the streets just for weekend entertainment, and the groups of teenagers and couples holding hands seemed just like the same as you’d find at Fiesta Mall or Park Place.

By the way, there are a few large malls here in Buenos Aires, though they are all upper class shopping centers. The most famous is Galarías Pacífico on the Florida pedestrian street, but there is also Paseo Alcorta and Alto Palermo. They don’t spread out like ours do, but instead are four to five stories tall, with the top story being the food court and various open restaurants. Most also have a movie theater and kiddie land, and even a Target-esque store/supermarket. You won’t find a GAP, Express, Pacific Sunwear or Dillards around here, I’ve yet to see an American store with the exception of Wrangler and Lee Jeans.

Balvenera also has a large Jewish population and there were many families dressed for services and men in yarmulkes. It’s fun finding these little pockets of diversity. The Argentines say their country is diverse, but coming from the US makes it hard to believe. They had immigration waves much like we did in the early 1900s, with people from Europe and Asia coming into Buenos Aires city and province. However, the key thing is most of those immigrants quickly assimilated, trading their homeland traditions for Latin American life and a culture of homogeneity seems to still exist around here. People don’t call themselves “Italian-Argentines” or “Chinese-Argentines”, they’re just simply Argentines.

Learning the “ways of a country” can come from unusual places: I had no idea where to buy batteries until I saw a commercial in which a boy has decide between buying batteries for his music player or a Milka brand candy bar at (bum bum bum) a kisoko. Sure enough, the kiosko on the corner had AA’s for my digital camera. He chose the candy bar, by the way.

Kiosko – ubiquitous convenience stores found in every nook and cranny of the city. They sell snacks, drinks, phone cards, sandwiches, cigarettes, and random stuff for your daily life (like batteries!). Often they are part of a locutorio, which means you can buy an alfajor while you call your friend in Chile. I put a couple pictures of a locutorio and a kiosko on my photobucket site, http://s92.photobucket.com/albums/l16/wrenfliessouth

Oh alfajores – they just aren’t the national cookie, but are to Argentina as to what the candy bar is to the US. You may not be able to find a Snickers or a 3 Musketeers, but you will be able to find 30 different kinds of alfajor cookies. The basic alfajor is a sandwich cookie made of two butter cookies and dulce de leche filling, but you’ll find the cookies filled with fruit, fudge, nougat, peanut butter-ish spread, white chocolate and various other sweets. Then it can be dipped in chocolate, or powdered sugar, and there are “super alfajores” that are made with three or even four cookies… kind of like that extra bun in a Big Mac. You’ll see them fresh in a confeteria (bakery) or packaged candy bar-style.They are made as small as quarters and as large as cakes, though they’re about the size of a coaster on average. I read somewhere that Argentines eat around 6 million alfajores a day.

The site for Havanna, who people here say make the best alfajores: http://www.havanna.com.ar/ I disagree, but they serve the best coffee around including a Café Havana, a shot of espresso buried under steamed sweetened condensed milk. Plus it’s a great meeting place.

The Buenos Aires Herald (the English language national newspaper) reported that there has been a 30 percent decrease in restaurant goers due to the anti-smoking law, but I don’t know about their source on that (ha ha, that journalism training kicks in). I think it’ll stick, however, because they sure love socializing over food or coffee here, and it won’t take long for even the strongest of smokers to head back to the cafés.

Off to Uruguay on Wednesday for almost a week! My friend Franca’s family lives there, and we’ll be visiting them, though we’re staying in a hotel in Montevideo. The city is quite close to Buenos Aires, just over the Rio de la Plata. It’s about a 5 hour trip, both on bus and by boat. Uruguay is supposed to be a sunny, clean country that’s full of students and young business people and even has artists and authors on its currency instead of generals and presidents. Plus they have a nonsmoking ban there as well, so it should be a great trip!

A rainy day in Buenos Aires. The thunder is reverberating off the tall buildings while everyone scrambles to bring in their laundry from balconies and windows. Still, I schlepped myself to history class and even to the gym in the stormy weather. It’s like a hint of Tucson, as the streets are flooded without decent drainage systems. I think they believe all the water will just run down to the river and out of the way, which it pretty much does. The word for umbrella here is “paraguas” – “para” (for) + “aguas” (water)

A busy week, a busy weekend. Midterms have hit for most of us, even the tango classes have papers to write.

Friday we attended a performance of Swan Lake at the Teatro Colon. It was beautiful but we almost missed it because the subte broke down as we were riding into the city center. A message apologizing for the inconvenience herded us all out to stand around, but I rushed all 8 of us girls up, out and into two taxis. We were about 15 minutes late and the ushers gave us withering looks, hissing “estan tarde!” but they let us uncouth American girls in. We were at the top of the theater but the show was wonderful even from that vantage point, and I was happy to have a great view into the pit. I say it’s a two-for-one performance, you get the ballet as well as an orchestra concert of Tchaikovsky’s incredible music as well. The theater still has standing sections where you can watch the show for 10 pesos. Afterwards we visited a party at what we called “The Canadians’ Apartment.” Everyone at school seems to get grouped by their country of origin, and the Americans are reduced to whatever study abroad group they’re visiting here with. Thursdays through Saturdays you can tell where any party in the city is taking place because the noise bursts out of each apartment and finds its way onto the street. Often you can look up and see a squish of people on a balcony smoking and talking in rapid fire lunfardo. Saturday was warm, almost 80 degrees and my friend Lauren (what a great name she has!) and I explored the Belgrano Fair and squeezed into an overcrowded heladoria (ice cream parlor) for the amazing gelato-like ice cream they serve here. I don’t think I will ever be able to have Baskin-Robbins again!

Sunday my host mom all but pushed me out of the house, declaring that it was too beautiful a day to stay in. I walked the western side of Belgrano, a bit more middle class than the other side, but full of families eating a leisurely lunch. I ended up at the Cementerio de la Chacarita, curious to see the burial site of the infamous Juan Peron, in honor of my history class. I was unsuccessful but the place was lined with pine trees which were a nice surprise – I haven’t seen those in a long time! My guidebook was quick to note that Chacarita, where Juan is buried, is a less exclusive cemetery than Recoleta, where Evita is buried.

Afterwards I ended up in a café watching the Boca fútbol game with my friends who were huge fans. Every place with a TV was tuned in and table service all but stopped during play. Since fútbol here doesn’t have a commercial break every five minutes, it made for a long lunch. It was a lot of fun and everyone yelled at every goal and potential goal. Yes even a chair got turned over in the excitement of one score, I guess the closest thing to a fan riot.

I’m ready to have a celebration of my own, as a nonsmoking law quietly went into effect on Oct 1 banning smoking in indoor public places. I had no idea about the ordinance and I guess neither did most of Buenos Aires, but we all found out together when a few people tried to light up in the café and the owner immediately stopped them. Today, despite the pouring rain, many of the outside tables at restaurants were occupied by grumpy looking smokers. Hurray, a small victory for my lungs!

It’s interesting adjusting to a different money mentality here, and we have an especially strange vantage point having the advantage of a 3-1 exchange rate. The cajeros automaticos (ATMs) spit out bills of the largest denomination possible, so if you take out $150 pesos, you’ll receive a 100 and a 50, instead of the convenient 20s we are used to at home. Due to fees charged every time we make a transaction, the foreign students tend to take out large amounts at a time, which mean we’re rather familiar with Roca on the purple 100 peso bill. However, everyone here is averse to giving change and seem to recoil in horror at the sight of the large bills. There are shops that would rather lose your business than have to make change for 50 pesos, and I’ve shamefully admitted “lo siento, pero solamente tengo un 50, ¿está bien?” I don’t know if there is a shortage of smaller bills, that people retain a fear of an unstable economy and don’t want to have large sums of money on hand, or if they are afraid of becoming a tempting robbery target (kind of like those “driver carries no bills larger than 20” signs at home). Regardless, it can be a pain (though I realize it’s a “good problem” to have). It has become a constant game to “break our bills”, trying to get down to 20 or 10 peso bills or even a coveted 5. Eating out is especially challenging when half the group announces “I’ve only got 100” when la cuenta (bill) arrives and a huge shuffling and changing has to occur. Counterfeits are also a problem, they are pretty rampart in the system. Some are very good, and pass around without much problem, but some are barely above photocopies. A friend of mine’s mom was visiting and managed to get $150 pesos of counterfeits so bad they had glitter pen used as in imitation of the shiny material used on the numbers of real bills. However, a quick check for a watermark keeps most of us out of trouble.

Pictures of Aregentine currency:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Argentine_peso
(I’ve yet to see the 1 centavo coin, nor have I seen the $2 and $5 peso coins)

Oh I've had a request for my e-mail address. If you'd like to drop me a line, you can get ahold of me at penguine11@yahoo.com. I always love hearing from everyone!

Happy fall/spring! I spent the turn of the seasons down south on another adventure. This time we, a group of 8 girls, took a long bus ride to Patagonia. Yes, Patagonia is more than an outdoor clothing label. It’s the open Argentine countryside where the landscape is only broken by barbed wire fences and the occasional sheep. It covers most of the south, encompassing the Andes on the west, the Atlantic on the east and touches Tierra de Fuego, the last stop before Antarctica. We followed the east-coast hugging Route 3 about 1300 km (800 miles) to Puerto Madryn, a beach town at the mouth of Gulfo Nuevo. The top industries around are tourism, fishing and aluminum production. It’s a popular summer spot for Porteños (Buenos Aires folk) but with it barely spring, the town only held locals and foreign tourists like us. We were there town to do a little wildlife watching and for the others, enjoy some pescado fresco (fresh seafood).

The city had a beautiful beach, with a few restaurants jutting into the sand and a pier where you can watch both fishing boats and whales. However, we didn’t do any swimming since it was about 50°F during the day and had a fierce wind that came off the ocean.

Amazingly, despite a previous night of attempting to sleep in a rocking double decker omnibus, we were all up around sunrise the next day to take a day tour north to Península Valdes. If you look at a map of Southern Argentina, you’ll see a funny piece of land that looks held on by a thread – that’s the Reserva Faunística Península Valdes. It’s sandwiched by Gulfo San Jose and Gulfo Nuevo. A van drove us across the shrubby landscape, stopping with a jerk whenever the guide saw some of the local wildlife, such as guanacos (wild llamas), rheas (small ostriches), and maras (like giant rabbit/hampsters). However, the big draw was the marine life. We decked out in neon yellow rainslickers and orange lifevests to go on a whale-watching tour. It’s the top time of year for Southern Right Whales, who use the gulfs as their breeding grounds. Almost immediately we saw the black fins of the huge animals and spent almost an hour watching whale after whale play in the bay. Some were so close you could almost reach out to feel the barnacled skin, and it seemed like they were out to entertain the boats. We all burned through camera batteries trying to catch those famous shots of a “w” shaped tail or the splash as one of them did a “Free Willy” style jump. I finally realized that the best thing to do was to turn the camera off and just enjoy the amazing show. It’s so easy to get caught up looking through the camera’s view finder instead of your own eyes.

Supposedly Killer Whales also live in the waters (the Shamu Sea World orcas), but they’re pretty elusive. Our guide said that if we saw some that day, he’d take us to the nearest casino because it would be our lucky day.

Afterwards, we drove on to look over the cliffs at Elephant seals. They were beached, spread out over the sand. Occasionally they would move to throw sand over themselves or to half-heartedly fight, but not much action there. Furry black baby seals were everywhere, and they filled the cove with their sort-of barking. Finally, we moved up the shore to where a small colony of Magellanic Penguins lived. This was the animal I was waiting for and finally, I got to see wild pengüinos! It was so amazing, I was the first off the bus as soon as I spotted a black and white body. They were bigger than I expected, about a foot and a half tall, and they hung around just outside the preserve’s fence. They were surprisingly calm, not really caring that humans were around. If anything, they were checking us out as much as we were staring at them. They were all over the hills, standing or waddling, occasionally posing for photos (ok, it seemed that way). I had great fun and was disappointed that we had to run back due to a sudden downpour.

( Photos I found of all these animals: (I only took the penguin pics, by the way): )

After all the saltwater and ocean life, I don’t think anyone wanted another sea food dinner. We ended up at a pizza place that night.

Another early morning, and another breakfast provided by our hostel, Che Patagonia. Well, breakfast around here seems to be toast with jam or dulce de leche and coffee… man, I miss waffles and pancakes. And Cheerios. Anyway, another tour, this time south to Punta Tumbo in Chubut for, you guessed it, more pengüinos ! We just couldn’t miss the largest penguin colony outside of Antartica. This time, it wasn’t just a cluster of a few birds. There were literally thousands of penguins spread across the sparkling coastline and up onto the land. They were standing or digging, calling or waddling, swimming or sleeping. Penguins everywhere. Many were laying on their stomachs, sleeping the sun. They looked like they simply fell over and took a nap. The male penguins were busy burrowing nests out of the ground, hoping their digs would impress the females who were arriving after their migration from Brazil. There were a few rope fences marking a path, but other than that, little separated us from the birds. They stared at us as we stood right next to them, taking even more photos. A few llamas wandered through the flocks, looking conspicuously out of place (almost as much as us, I guess). Not much could have topped that morning!

Later we went to Gaiman, where the Welsh have settled since the mid-1800s. We had “high tea” at Casa Gales de Té, an authentic tea house complete with small tortas (cakes), sandwiches de miga (ham, cheese and white bread), Gaelic Black Cake, and knitted pink tea cozies. Princess Di once visited the house and they had quite a shrine to her and that visit. I’m taking quite a liking to tea here in Argentina, a nice change from the endless coffee. I guess the popularity of tea goes back to those European roots. Finally, we stopped at Trelew to visit a Paleontology Museum. It had replicas of the bones of the Argentinosaurus, the largest dinosaur ever discovered, and an outline showing the sheer size of the creature. It’s impossible to describe just how big this dinosaur must have been, we spent a few minutes gaping at the thing, 18 m (about 60 feet) tall. Glad that’s not walking around today!

Our last day was spent combing souvenir shops and stocking up on snacks for the ride back. The sun made an appearance as we had lunch at a beach-side restaurant and we spent a blissful hour in the warmth. That made it very hard to leave… but with midterms and classes the next day, it was time to head to the bus terminal and back to the city. We rode “Cama” buses back, meaning the seats reclined fully back, a feat that I never quite understood until then. I must say, bus food is better than airline food, especially since I’ve never had big alfajores and hot tea served as a snack on an America West (oh, I’m sorry, US Airways) flight.

Next stop: Uruguay in October! Time is flying, we’re already talking about where we want to go for our extra time once school gets out. Classes end Nov. 6, leaving me just over a month to explore. Probably off to Northern Argentina, but who knows?

Well, back to the semi-real world, an essay is waiting as is Spanish homework. Tengan una buena semana!

PS: I updated my photobucket account with some photos. They're a little out of order, but you'll get the gist:
http://s92.photobucket.com/albums/l16/wrenfliessouth/

Also, a touristy site if you're interested in more about Patagonia:
http://www.patagonia-travel.com/index_ingles.php

For those of you who are just tuning in, or have already forgotten, I have my photos posted on a separate photo site: http://s92.photobucket.com/albums/l16/wrenfliessouth/

It’s warm and I feel more alive! I think there will be a point where the changing seasons here and at home will cross and we’ll all enjoy the same weather for a while.

I had been having nightmares where I was suddenly home and was despairing because I there was so much I missed in Argentina, so I took it as a sign… I got myself out for a busy weekend!

Friday I headed to Microcentro, the most central neighborhood. It’s where the congressional buildings and the Casa Rosada sit, and where the major financial institutions stand. The Subte line ends at the Catedral, and I sat in on a few minutes of a mass in the huge church. Tourists weaved in and out of worshipers and it was a quiet change from the bustle outside. It’s one of my favorite places so far in Buenos Aires. Afterwards I walked down the busy Avendia Florida, a huge pedestrian-only street in the heart of town. It was packed with tourists, locals and business people shopping on their lunch. Newsstands in the middle sold everything from the regular magazines and newspapers to Argentine flags, pins, postcards, posters, mate mugs and a surprising number of Simpsons memorabilia. There were a few street musicians and tangoers trying to do their kicks without taking out a camera wielding onlooker. The street includes the Gallerias Pacifica, one of the most famous malls in the city. It has sprawling murals and is visited as much for its scenery as its shops. Plus my guidebook says it has the best public restrooms in town. Always good to know. I didn’t spend too much time inside because it was packed… the Gallerias, not the restrooms.

The next day I stayed in my neighborhood of Belgrano and explored the streets that crisscross Cabildo (the main avenue through this part of the city). It was busy because Saturday is the big shopping day, but nothing like the sea of people yesterday in downtown. I really love this neighborhood, it’s a good mix of residential and commercial. You can always get a cab when you need one, but at the same time there are many areas where you escape the roar of collectivos. Shopping is totally different experience; there are no “box stores” where everything is one place. Instead there is a tiny shop for just about everything imaginable. You’ll walk to one place for women’s clothing, another for men’s, then down the street for bread and next door for pasta. Across the street will be a store with computer goods while a few blocks down has power tools and another that sells music. There are larger stores, of course, but it seems that most people have their own familiar places where they buy their goods. No Targets here!

I enjoy traveling and exploring on my own, I get to see what I want and linger whenever I feel like it. But I don’t really like the traveler I have to become. I have to put on a “don’t mess with me” face and I become nearly hostile to anyone who approaches me. There isn’t much chance for making friends or getting to know people at all because I feel like I need to consider that everyone could have an alternative motive. Well, the language barrier doesn’t help either. I hope to someday develop that sense of who’s a friend and who’s suspicious. Don’t worry, I’m staying on my guard.

Sundays are incredible, the entire city has a blanket of quiet. I didn’t think it was possible for such a silence to exist in a place like this, but most of the shops and businesses are closed, and in a staunchly Catholic country, everyone is at church. However, the cafés and restaurants are always packed as well as the grassy areas. It was about 80 degrees yesterday, a hint of spring, and so everyone planted themselves in some sunny spot for the whole day. I rode by a large park on my way back from the San Telmo street fair and every inch of green was covered with groups and couples. Impromptu futbol games were going on and kid after kid went down the slides. Hurray for warmer weather!

This week I had an instance of the language tables being turned. I was talking to an Argentine student who was trying to speak English and I thought he kept asking “What do you like here?” – but he kept getting frustrated when I talked about the sites I’ve seen. It turned out he was trying to say “Where do you life?”, meaning “Where do you live?” I think that’s how I sound speaking Spanish. I was good, and didn’t rush him or get annoyed. I can relate.

-Locotorios – I can’t remember if I really explained them but either way, here it is again. Many people don’t have internet connection or phone lines in their home, and there is also a high demand for international calls (Chile, Peru, Mexico, etc) so these things are everywhere. The phones are in glass booths the size of a closet and a little meter like you’d find in a taxi that tells you how many pesos have been racked up. Afterwards you pay the cashier. A 45 minute call to the US costs about 35 pesos, about $11. They also have lines of computers where, for 2 pesos an hour, you can surf the net. I often see teenagers in there playing endless online games or chatting on messengers, I guess some things are worldwide. Locotorios are on just about any corner, and many double as little convenience stores.

-Trash – This city is packed, and every inch of space is either lived in, walked on, driven through, or sold from. That means little room for dumpsters or bins like our handy black rolly ones. Everyone puts their trash out on the street at around 7 p.m., just in basic black bags or straight up, and around 10 p.m., the garbage trucks pick it up. However, many of the city’s poor rummage through all the trash for cardboard, glass and other sellable metals. That means it get strewn about and can make a pretty big mess. Some areas have the remnants of too many trash days, but much of the area is surprisingly clean despite this system, though there is a fine layer of litter. However, it’s the dog poo you’ve really got to watch out for. I’ve also noticed that the doormen hose down and clean the area in front of their apartment and in the early morning things are sparkling. It give literal meaning to that proverb “Let everyone sweep in front of his own door, and the whole world will be clean.”

-I have decided that Buenos Aires has the best street sign system around. The signs are huge, and clearly marked, but the best thing is that all have an arrow indicating which way the traffic runs. One arrow for one-way, two for two-way. I guess it’s necessary because this place is a mass of one-way streets. I’ve found I can save a peso or so if I just cross the street when I’m hailing a cab in a certain direction, to avoid making a round-about in order to find a street going the right way.

Just in case you want to follow along in my Literature As Social Change class, we’ve just finished “Facundo” by Sarimento, and have moved on to “7 Madmen” by Roberto Arlt. You can help me write my essay!

Let’s see, 15 more days until primavera, spring. Not that I’m counting or anything.

Today I got to experience another exiting side of travel called "getting a visa." Supposedly new laws were put into effect that anyone studying here in Argentina must get a student visa, instead of the free tourist visa we received at the airport, which we would renew simply by taking a day trip to Uruguay and back. While most of us think the government just wants the 300 peso "immigration fee" we grudgingly showed up early in the morning to be bused to the Justice Department and then to Immigration Services. 7 hours later, we emerged... with a slip telling up to come back in 10 days for our actual visas. I suppose this is all part of the fun of crossing borders, but boy I wish I brought my homework or a lunch. I did get to take prision-style photos with myself holding up my visa number.

There was a huge march on Thursday that filled Plaza De Mayo, about 10,000 people and played across all the local stations. From what I’ve gathered is that it was part of an anti-crime, pro-security. Controversial issues include the demand for more police and lowering the age for certian criminal convictions involving drugs or violence to somewhere around 14. There was a smaller counter march in the Plaza de la República, about 4 blocks away (or a subte stop, as we know things around here), which was against the increase in laws, they carried signs that said “Más seguridad es más trabajos.” Many of our host parents attended the march, Carlos went to the main pro-security one. Marta stayed home because there had been some worries about the two groups meeting and starting trouble. Most of the offices around the areas were cleared out early, around 4 p.m. as opposed to the usual 7 p.m. end of the workday, the subte stops were closed, and buses skipped parts of their routes. The whole thing was very peaceful, complete with singers and speeches, and all that was left the next day were a handful of fluttering fliers. I thought it was really exciting to see this other side of Buenos Aires, and how so many came together to protest, shutting down part of this busy city.

In quieter news, I visited the Jardín Japonesés on Sunday in the few hours of sunshine we had. It was really beautiful, called “the oasis of Buenos Aires”, but it’s architecture, plants and animals were so totally different from the surrounding city that I felt like it was more a living museum exhibit than a garden – the fence and admission fee added to that, I think. I may have been spoiled by pictures of the real thing. Afterwards I walked around the big parks that run along Libertador, the last main road before the railroad and river. Families and couples were out in full force, sitting by the little lakes, rides in horse drawn carriages or on bikes, many with their dogs in tow and treats from the vendors in hand. Little parrillita carts sprung up with smoke from their grills puffing out rickety chimneys (parrilla is the Argentine style of barbequing). You can buy everything from roasted almonds, ice cream and alfajores to a steak or giant salchita sandwich from these places, with Coca Cola Light, Fanta Naranja or Quatro (a carbonated grapefruit drink) to go with it. A rollerblade rental stand was pretty popular and little newly wheeled groups shakily skated down the road (pedestrians only on the weekends). Hey, it looked kind of like I did on skis… they didn’t fall as much, though.

A weekend of late nights, I’ve gotten used to the Argentine hours except for their love of staying out until the sun rises. Here, the night starts at about 11 p.m. with dinner or maybe a bar around 1 a.m. Then, the night officially gets going around 2 p.m., when most of the clubs and popular night spots open up. Most people will head home around, oh, 5 a.m. and then sleep past noon. I just can’t do it! I think I like my days too much, there is so much I want to see. Many of the exchange students haven’t moved beyond the “Restaurants and Bars” sections of their guidebooks, I think.

Carlos’ 69th birthday was Sunday as well, another big family celebration. The children all go to bilingual schools and are fairly good at English, so much of the night was spent as follows:
A mom or dad: (in English) “Honey, Lauren here is from the United States and she doesn’t speak very much Spanish. Why don’t you speak some English to her? Show her what you’ve learned.”
The kid: (stares at me for a few moments) “No”
Mom or dad: (in Spanish) “Dear, can you tell her what you’re reading in class? What’s the name of that book in English you’re reading?”
The kid: (in Spanish) “I don’t want to”
Me: (in English) “What kinds of books do you like?”
The kid: (looks to mom or dad and says in Spanish) “What did she say?”
Me: “¿Qué tipos de libros te gusta?”
The kid: (looks to mom or dad and says in Spanish) “What did she say?”
Mom or dad: (gives me a weak smile)
Me: “Um, I’m going to get some more agua.”

I enjoyed the night, however, the whole family is loud, boisterous and really friendly, and the kids are enduringly cute. I made small talk and just kind of watched everything, much like the last get-together. Maybe if I was around for the Christmas party, I’d be able to join in. There was plenty of birthday cake (a crumbly chocolate layer topped with an orange and ricotta-based cheesecake) so I was happy.

It’s common here for people to give their friends and family nicknames, terms of endearment. However, they’re often little teases that from anyone else would be probably be an insult. Like calling a short friend “bajo” (shorty) or calling your good friend “tonto” (stupid). Marta calls Carlos “gordo” like we would use “honey”. It’s just the way things are around here, but for some foreign students it can be a bit shocking. A friend’s host mom called her “gorda” all the time, and for a girl who was already self-conscious about her weight, she said it was really hard on her. Finally she had to sit down with the host mom and explain that in her culture, it’s offensive. I think it’s an interesting example of how we’re learning to balance “our” culture with “their” culture. How much should we accept and change to fit into the place we’re living here, and at what point should our own traditions or beliefs trump our host country’s?

Off to do some research for a history paper, “Compare the modernization of Argentina at the turn of the 20th century to Mexico or Brazil.” Woohoo. I think this entry has been a little sarcasim heavy, sorry. Maybe I´m compensating for not really being able to use it, because sarcasim doesn't seem to be used as much here and really doesn't translate well.

By the way, for those of you new to blog-land, if would like to leave comments or ask questions or anything of the sort, you can click on the “leave a comment” part of each entry. I always love to hear from everyone!

Che, chicos.

Happy end to the fifth week of school! I know for a lot of you it’s the first or second, so happy back-to-school (especially for those starting la universidad for the primero vez.) Here, it’s already talk of midterms and papers.

We stacked ourselves in bleachers Saturday to watch the World Championships of Tango. The event was free to the public and we showed up at 10 a.m. to stand in a five block long line to pick up tickets. They may say that tango is really left for the tourists, but the hundreds of Argentines yelling like it was a futbol game would counter that! Everyone crowded into bleachers at La Rual (sort of like their convention center) and cheered on the 36 couples that had twirled into the finals. There were pairs from all over Argentina, Columbia, Chile, Peru, as well as Russia, Germany and Italy, with many more countries represented in the semifinals. No United States, as I guess we dance a different version of tango. We caught the Salon Tango night, the kind of tango that grew from the clubs, as opposed to show tango, which is more choreographed, like an ice skating dance. The couples did not even know what music would be played and had to improvise the whole thing. They were amazing, silently communicating which twists, turns and moves would be next. A couple from Buenos Aires, the woman seven months pregnant, were dubbed the champions, and their dancing looked flawless. Great fun!

The big talk around here was the premiere of the Latin American version of “Desperate Housewives” called “Amas De Casa Deseperados”. The billboards were all over town, covering buses and buildings alike and we had fun trying to figure out who corresponded to which character in the original version. It’s following the scripts of the US version, starting from the first season, but with Latin American tweaks thrown in, to market it from Mexico to Argentina and all the countries in between. The version here looks more like a telenovia, though many of the shots and dialogue are the same. Is watching it an excuse to work on my Spanish?

A news article (in English): http://www.azcentral.com/ent/tv/articles/0225latindesperate.html
And to watch the television ad: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=r09Vgfl8fMU

This is totally unreleated to Argentina, but today on “Todo Por El Aire” we got to see Finland’s own cellphone shotput match. Consider that when you lose service.

Feeling sick again, the second time this month, and it’s all my respiratory stuff. Probably from the air and the recent “hairpin” weather changes. We joke here that it should be called “Mal-es Aires” instead of Buenos Aires because the air in the city is so bad. The tall buildings hold in all the exhaust from the traffic (colectivos are notoriously bad) and the general pollution that comes from city life. Plus, smoking is huge, most say due to the Parisian/composition influence. It’s not so much the quantity is that there are few restrictions on where you can smoke. Restaurants are lucky to have a few un-enforced “nonsmoking” tables, and the university students light up outside of their classes. However, breezes will whip down the streets and the upcoming rainy season promises cleaner days. I look forward to traveling to Uruguay where I’ve heard they have a nationwide smoking ban.

I have days where I think the city is the most wonderful and beautiful place I could be, and some days I can’t help but notice its flaws and problems. I suppose that’s typical of such a huge place, and it’s important to recognize how rich and cosmopolitan the place remains in the face of a history of economic and political oppression and in comparison to the many other areas of Latin America. I’ve read in my history books and learned more and more in my classes how different Buenos Aires is from the rest of the country. When it became the country’s only shipping and economic outlet to the rest of the world, it because the most powerful area in Argentina, and many say it supports the rest of the land… though other says it hordes the money. It is true that much of the poverty is found in the outlying countryside, though there are shantytowns even on the city fringes. I think what is really missing are the middle class small towns and suburbs that are common in the US. Here it is more “the city” and “everyone else.”

Disclaimer: These thoughts and the rest are only my observations and what I’ve pieced together from 7 weeks or so of life and school here. Visit your local library for more information!

In my Comparative History class, we broke into tangent on “piropos”, the catcalls that girls get on the streets. For many of the American girls (myself included) it’s shocking the amount of comments that men make as we’re just walking around our daily lives here. While I usually can’t understand the Spanish, I know they range from the friendly “Que Linda” (“How beautiful!”) to, well, stuff I’m glad I can’t translate. Men often stand in doorways watching the world, and the girls, go by and we’ve all almost developed a sixth sense as to when someone is going to say something. My (female) professor explained that these men aren’t dangerous, but it’s just the way Latin American men and women interact. There is little danger of them approaching you, but they simply want to comment on “how wonderful and beautiful women are” (in the word of my prof). She said that when she first traveled to America, our professor thought there was something terribly wrong or deformed about her because she never heard any man make a passing comment. She said now that she’s much older, she misses the piropos.

I thought of this old Far Side cartoon when I’m trying to understand what someone is saying in Spanish:



For me it’s like “blah blah blah school blah blah blah girl blah blah blah street blah blah blah read blah blah blah me too”

Although my host mom commented at dinner that my Spanish “is growing” (and she said it in Spanish – and I understood, bonus points for me!) I find it easiest to practice with my host family because they are willing to listen and be patient while I try to form sentences. They correct me at times, but don’t interrupt at every mistake, as I’ve heard that other people do. I work on using my Spanish at shops and in daily needs, but often people have already decided that they will not understand what I’m saying, and it becomes a wall. I’m learning to read these people and dip into my phrasebook for canned sentences. Friendly taxi drivers and other foreign students speaking Spanish are also nice. My biggest problem is that new words go in one ear and slide out the other, despite me repeating them to myself a few times. If anyone has any advice on remembering words that are told to me, I’d appreciate it.

Hi, my audience,

Wow, what a week! I’m alternating siestas and homework today to catch up from a great trip south to Bariloche.

Let me first say that a 20 hour bus ride is not as bad as it sounds, especially when you travel “Cama Ejecutivo” which includes seats which almost recline fully, movies, and even airplane style meals. Never have I had so many tiny tubs of flan. We hit the road with “Via Bariloche” omnibus company on Wednesday night and zoomed across the open countryside to Argentina’s famed lake district, in Patagonia. One flat tire and somewhere around 1,000 miles later, we arrived in the small town tucked in the Andes. The land, of course, is stunning, with crystal lakes walled by the steep mountains. It looked a bit like Lake Tahoe, but without the rampant urbanization. In this area of the world, there are still huge stretches of land that are only inhabited by a few sheep, cows and horses, if that.

We stayed in a hostel, my first time. Four of us shared a room with two sets of bunk beds and our own bath, and I quietly lowered my standards of cleanliness, having been bred as hotel travler. The people who owned the hostel were really friendly though, and our 25 peso/night (that’s about $8) stay included breakfast and the use of the kitchen, living room, and internet. Other travelers from South Africa, France and around the US were staying there, with lots of stories to tell. So many people are able to pick up and move around where ever they want, and many others have fallen in love with the country, leaving behind their lives to stay permanently in Argentina. (Don´t worry, I´m not planning that myself.)

The town is small with a little square, a small Patagonian history museum which was very interesting and included a surprisingly comprehensive exhibit of (stuffed) south Argentine wildlife. A main street held souvenir shops selling shirts, alpaca wool goods, mate mugs, horse gear, carved wood and lots of gnomes, as well as cafes, and boutiques, and of course the chocolate stores. Everyone walked around with huge bags from the various places like “Mamuschka”, “La Tourista”, “Abuela Goya” and “Fenoglio”. I left “Benroth” with quite a box, no surprises there. Wish I could send some to you guys, but I don’t think it would survive the plane ride, or customs.

We got up to an amazing sunrise for a day at Catedral, the main skiing area outside of town. The sun was out and the place was bustling with people from all over South America and many foreigners. I guess it’s one of the supreme skiing and snowboarding spots. Yep, I skied for the first time. I had a great time, though let’s just say I should have spent more time learning to, um, slow down and stop. It didn’t help that we accidentally ended up on an intermediate trail for my first real mountain run. It’s also kind of humiliating when entire groups of 6-year-olds on tiny skis zoom by you while you’re trying to pull your ski out of a snow bank. The views were absolutely spectacular, truly breathtaking, and now I can say that I’ve skied the Andes… or my skis and I eventually made it to the bottom, not necessarily together at all times. I’d like to try it again, but outside the extremely steep walls of those mountains. Maybe someday I’ll be able to come back and race down the black diamond trails…

We spent the next day exploring the town, taking countless pictures of the scenery and taste testing chocolate. A little artisan fair sprung up in the middle of town and we finally had some decent Mexican food (though the Argentines have a fear of anything spicy, thus making for some really disappointing salsa). I had to explain to my Georgia friends what a saguaro was!

Our last day, a few of us went on a horseback trip at an estancia (ranch). Our guide, Carol Jones, owns a sprawling space in the mountains where her family raises horses, cows and sheep, and offers day tours into the back country. Estancias here aren’t few-acre plots either, the land extended across entire mountain ranges. I finally rode a horse (his name was Picasso) that actually listened to me and didn’t wander off to eat, and it was exciting to have the freedom to ride without sticking in a tight line. When you’re in a place where the concept of “suing” is foreign, things tend to be much more lax. We rode across open planes and up grassy mountains, we saw wild horses by lakes and got stared at by black angus steers. In the middle we had empanadas, cheese, crackers and the requisite wine cooked over campfire while our horses tore up grasses and stomped in the mud. Carol and her assistant looked like true gauchos and for a tiny bit, we felt like we were ones as well.

That, coupled with skiing, left me sorer than I think I have ever been and I spent the bus ride back trying not to make any sudden movements. I was struck by how open and uninhabited the land is. Argentina is the 5th largest country in the world, but is has one of the lowest person per square mile ratios. Only the occasional house broke up the distance, except when we’d pass through a few industrial towns, the largest being Neuquén (which had the most number American industries together that I’ve seen). The land outside the mountains looks very much like the Arizona desert, minus the cactus and mesquite trees. I woke up from a nap thinking about what I needed to do when I got back down to Tucson!

(It’s actually happened to me quite a few times where I’ve woken up and had moments of confusion where exactly I’m at – it’s a bit disjointing to be unsure of what country you’re in for a moment! I often dream that I’ve flown home to Mesa or Tucson for the weekend or for a few hours, which is a really strange feeling.)

It felt great to get out of the city, and the fresh air felt wonderful. Coming back was nice, too, though, back to the bustle of Buenos Aires (by the way, BsAs is the abbreviation for “Buenos Aires”). My little room and friendly home stay is a nice place to return to.

Monday I went to see an opera at the Teatro Colon, (named for Christopher Columbus), the nearly century-old theater in the heart of Buenos Aires. It was the largest theater in the Southern Hemisphere until the Sydney Opera House was built in the ´70s. It´s beautiful, of course, with columns and carvings as well as displays of old instruments, including some priceless Stradivarius ones. The seats are all red velvet and there are even the private boxes for the richer patrons. We saw what was dubbed a ´modern opera´, "Jonny spielt auf", a German opera with Spanish subtitles. So I only had a vague idea of what was going on, it involved glaciers, a stolen violin and a man in black face, which was pretty shocking... I don´t think that would be done in the US! I was exhausted from our trip, however, and I think I only heard about half of the arias and high notes. I hope to go back and hear some symphonies, it is an amazing place. The website, in Spanish: http://www.teatrocolon.org.ar/inicio.htm

Some other stuff –

What I eat here – For breakfast, Marta lays out the same thing every day: two oranges to be squeezed for juice, a bowl next to a jar of cornflakes, two pieces of toast next to the toaster, a pot of coffee and my own mug to be heated in the microwave, a few packets of sugar (that I don’t use, because it’s “diet sugar” and tastes quite strange to me), and a cloth napkin, rolled complete with my own distinguishing napkin ring. I have to get the box/carton of milk out of the fridge, where it’s kept purely for comfort purposes. It’s more common to eat cereal with yogurt, but I haven’t converted to that yet.

Lunch is up to me, I’ll either eat out with friends and have a version of grilled cheese, salad (no dressing here! Only oil and vinegar), or pasta. Or I’ll cook at home, which is usually always spaghetti.

Marta always makes dinner for all three of us, rain or shine, sickness or health, always. Even if I tell her I’m going to be out, she’ll leave it for me in the fridge to be heated up. They’re both on a diet and so there is a lot of steamed veggies and salads. There’s usually some form of meat, a steak or broiled chicken or salchitos, along with lots of vegetables like squash, zucchini, potatoes, or tomatoes. Not much corn, broccoli or peas. Sometimes she makes a casserole or torta (like a quiche). Always, there’s either an apple or mandarin orange for dessert, and sometimes we have jello with yogurt. They drink water with carbonation and I have it “sin gas”. I haven’t really had much problems with eating stuff, though I did have to tell her I just don’t eat fish. I don’t want to offend, so I usually eat what’s put in front of me. Luckily, Marta’s a pretty good cook.

Laundry – I take most of my laundry to the Lave-Rap lavandería, about every week and a half. It’s quite humbling to walk down busy Cabildo with a bag of my dirty laundry. It takes about two days and then it comes back clean and folded. I keep hand wash stuff or things that I don’t necessarily trust in the big washers here to clean myself, which I do in my tub. Hey, it works.

I have homework to do! Reading “Facundo” by Domingo Sarmiento for my literature class and I need to write a paragraph biography of a famous person for Spanish (practicing preterite and imperfect). Hasta luego…

Let´s see, what have I done in the past week, besides slowly read for my class in Spanish – (the articles in one hand, a spanish-english dicctionary in the other).

We went to the zoo here, a small but pretty park stuck right in the middle of the city. You could see the tall buildings surrounding the cages and exhibits. It was small, but gave a nice peek at the animals commonly found in South America. I was struck by the Amazon Rainforest exhibit – so often I’ve seen this kind of thing in zoos, but I realized that this time I was in a country where I could see the actual rain forest. That was a pretty exciting thought. Argentina’s amazing in that it has access to the Amazon, the Andes, and Antarctica.

We have a long weekend due to the anniversary of the death of General San Martín. They tend to celebrate people on the dates of their death than opposed to their birth here. A group of friends and I are going to the town of Bariloche, which is in the southwest, at the base of the Andes. It´s supposed to be a beautiful lake area and I guess I´m going to learn to either ski or snowboard for the first time, because it´s one of the most popular ski cities outside of Aspen. I´ve also read that it has shops renowed for their chocolate. Contrary to what you may be thinking, this was not the defining factor in me choosing to go. But it is a nice touch. We´re taking a bus there and back, the national buses are supposed to be wonderful, better than a plane ride, with fully reclining seats, movies, snacks and lots of stops. I won´t tell you just how many hours it will take to get there, though... I´m happy again to get out of the city and finally see this huge country. However, I also need to go buy some gloves and a few more layers for this trip.

A tourist-y website about the place: http://www.argentinaturistica.com/2scbiresenia.htm

Sunday was Día De Los Niños, or “Children’s Day.” I think just about every American kid has asked “There’s a Father’s Day and there’s a Mother’s Day, so why isn’t there Kid’s Day?” and gotten the response “because every day is kid’s day.” Well, here, I guess the niños got their wish, with lots of treats and small gifts being exchanged everywhere. Marta said that it was just a day invented by the stores to fill the gap until Christmas, and I could see that just about every place here found some way to tie into the holiday. (I feel bad for the kids whose parents were inspired by the sign in an underwear store that read “give your kid the warm gift of socks!”) The zoos, parks, and theaters were packed with families and I could hear many family get-togethers across the apartments. Marta and Carlos had their large family of children and grandchildren over, and I sat quietly trying to take in all the rapid-fire Spanish and making friendly, choppy conversation with people. Everyone was really nice, and it seemed a lot like the holidays and birthdays that I’ve spent with my family, especially the Christmas’ when we were younger. Just more dulce de leche here.

It was a fun day, but Marta also said this holiday used to fall on the first Sunday in August, but was moved because most parents did not get their paychecks until the second Friday. I think the last thing many families in the post economic-crisis city need is another day when their kids are wishing for presents.

One of the most jarring things here is how many children are on the streets, homeless, and how often they are used for begging or selling small things. I know that there are homeless families everywhere, but I think in Tucson and Mesa, it’s usually only adults that we see curled up in an alley or in the park. Here, entire families make do in the few empty spaces in the city. What’s interesting is how most shop and restaurant owners allow them to come inside to beg or sell things to the customers. We were in café yesterday when a small boy walked among the tables with his hand outstretched. I think some of the maseros (waiters) gave him a back of old table bread and he left with a few pesos from the patrons. Also, often on the subte children will sing, juggle or sell things like notebooks or sheets of stickers. They’ll walk up the aisle and set their good right in your lap or hands – if you want it, you give the child a peso or so, if you don’t, you just get it back. I did think it was interesting that when the children (or sometimes adult) perform on the subway, everyone watches and then claps afterwards. I kind of like that.

Things you can buy on the street here:

Scarves, gloves, socks, underwear, dish towels, bath towels, folders, three-ring binders, wind-up cars, batteries, cameras, children’s backyard play equipment, baby clothes, slippers, pillows, jewelry, fuzzy pink butterfly wings for children (or adults, I guess), signed Barney photos, books, coffee, empanadas, roasted almonds and peanuts, flowers, magazines, newspapers, how-to computer manuals, DVDs, CDs, yerba mate mugs, tiny working wood stoves, binoculars, calculators, inscense, candles, and that´s just what I´ve seen on my street! And that’s not including what’s at the weekend fairs, which has just about anything a tourist or local could want.

More questions answered:
-Yes, we did hear about the British terrorist plot. It made the news down here, and it spread pretty quickly among the international students. Between the high number of western Europeans and Americans, all of whom flew long distances to get here, it was quite the talk of the school. We all hope the “no liquids” thing goes away by the time we return all have to return or there will be quite a few jars of dulce de leche and mate in airport trashes. I try to read the New York Times, Arizona Republic, and AZ Daily Star to keep up on all the news from home. I’ll probably add the Wildcat to that bunch once school starts. I just hate feeling out of the current events loop. I read little bits of La Nacion here, and I’m seeking out the major English-language newspaper here so I can know what’s going on right here.

-Chain stores – There are surprisingly few American stores and restaurants in the city, and much fewer chain shops than our cities. The only real common one is McDonalds, which has quite a few locations. However, the McDonalds here has a more, um, higher class dining status here, where many locations have a coffee bar, lounge style seating, and is a hot spot for Friday night dates. The fries still taste the same, though. There are a few Burger Kings, I think one KFC, a number of Blockbusters and a Wal-Mart way out in the outer barrio. A few TGIFriday’s and one Hard Rock Café. No Starbucks(!) as far as I know. Home Depot tried to open a location here, but it was hugely unpopular, and closed a few years ago. There are a few chains here, supermarkets include Disco, Corto, and Norte (though hardly “super” in size, compared to our Safeways and Basha’s). There’s a huge grocery appropriately called “Jumbo”, and large Lowes-meets-Target stores called “Easy”. Havana is an amazing coffee and sweets chain that is known for its alfajores and havanettes. Freddo is a popular chain ice cream shop that puts Baskin-Robbins to shame.

-Movies – there are a fair amount of American movies shown at the theaters here. Most are in English with Spanish subtitles, with the exception of kids´movies, where reading skills might not be that great. They also have movies from Europe and other Latin American countires, along with a handful of Argentina-made movies. There seems to be no real pattern about when movies open here – Pirates of the Carribiean opened just a few weeks after the US opening, but we´re just getting Cars and The Break-Up here. There are tons of movies shown on TV, and you´re more likely to see big billboards for a film shown on TV than in the theaters.

Yesterday I went on a “Día de Campo”, a day in the country, which was tons of fun. The supervisor of UB’s “Front Desk”, the place that handles international student living and activities, has a weekend house which he took about 20 of us to visit. It was about an hour out of the city and the first time I had left the tall buildings since I had arrived. It’s just this neighborhood of large houses out in the countryside, with open backyards and lots of room. We had a huge, huge, huge lunch with lots of meat, salads, and veggies, as well as vino, (wine) a common accompaniment to Argentine meals, and bubbly mineral water, which is everywhere and drives me crazy with its carbonation. A nasty surprise every time I think I’m drinking an innocent glass of water. Yo estuve muy satifecho, after that meal. We talked and played futbol, as well as rode bikes and even went to ride horses. Quite the gaucha.

We met some students from Denmark who were great to talk to (they said they learned a lot of their English from watching American movies), very friendly. They did bring up the subject of American politics, a topic which has arisen from time to time, though not as often as you would think. They asked our opinions on Bush and current policies, and we shared our thoughts on social stuff and the some on the immigration debates. They also talked about the Danish cartoon incident, which they said was very embarrassing. It can be a touchy situation talking politics to non-Americans, especially since I feel uncomfortable speaking as if my opinion represented everyone else’s (which it obviously doesn’t). I preface a lot with “now this is just what I think.” One of the students from Denmark asked how political reforms and the current administration had affected us personally in our daily lives, which seemed to me surprisingly difficult and complex to answer. Most of the students from other countries do not really like Bush or much of our foreign policy, but there hasn’t been any anti-American sentiments or any animosity, though don’t get some of the Canadians going… Most other students are wrapped up in their own lives and countries. However, most people know much more about our government and political system than we know about theirs, it’s kind of embarrassing.

My friend Danielle and I went to Recoleta on Saturday to check out the huge vendor fair and to see the famous cemetery. The street fair was teeming with people, as sellers hawked everything from tie-dye t-shirts to mate mugs, puzzles, jewelry, art and food. You could buy hot empanadas and roasted almonds right there while tiny coffee carts served right from the thermos. We had to laugh because there were many (obvious!) American and English tourists there try to get the vendors to speak English and give them change for their 100 peso bills, and our first though was “aw, tourists!!” We’re hardly beyond that label ourselves, but the fact that we took a collectivo over, can ask “cuantas cuestas?” and know to carry small change made us feel a silly sense of pride. Maybe it was nice that for a little bit, we weren’t the ones who totally stood out in the crowd.

The cemetery was both beautiful and bleak, and it was appropriate that the day was grey. It’s where the rich and famous prove their social status for eternity, and more power is concentrated there than any of the downtown buildings. It’s also the burial place of Eva Peron, though we didn’t have time to find the site. I had never been to a cemetery with mausoleums, and to see them lined up like tiny houses was a new sight. It’s just packed with every kind of architectural style imaginable, from greek columns to smooth modern marble. Some amazing statues and building work, and many had tiny alters inside the locked doors complete with intricate stained glass. A kind of telling reminder of the past economic crisis was that some of the mausoleums were dilapidated and obviously not cared for, from families that had fallen into ruin and couldn’t afford the upkeep that the exclusive cemetery requires. It’s a photographer’s dream and I’ll have to go back to take better pictures. Another random note is that the place is home to hundreds of cats - perhaps escaping from all the city’s dogs? There’s cat food left for them and no one really bothers them, so all the gatos live at one of the most exclusive addresses in the city.

I’m understanding a few more words of Spanish, and I can kind of get the gist of a sentence if I have time to think about it. The problem is, normal conversation doesn’t allow much processing time. I’ve quickly learned that when people think they are repeating something slower to be helpful, they still sound fast and don’t enunciate any more so, which is what I really need. I need to remember that for when the tables are turned. I did try to have a conversation with a student from Japan who spoke nearly no English. That really forced me to use my Spanish, knowing I couldn’t just mix in English when I had trouble. It’s hard to take the good advice to just “spit it out without worry for how you sound.” I think I’ve been so grammar conscious for so long (and I am a journalism major), that old habits die hard. I have to adjust to knowing I’m probably saying stuff like “Me eat good yesterday food yours happy” and that it’s ok. I’ve also got to work on not using the informal “tú” form when addressing shop people. Another very bad habit.

I’m slowly getting into school mode, doing reading and homework for classes already. I think I’m set with Comparative History of Latin America, Argentine Literature and Art, Social and Political Change (all in English) as well as my Spanish class. I’m also going to audit a course in Spanish, Tradicciones y Culturas de Argentina, to really immerse myself, and perhaps provide two hours of (academically interesting) pain.

Some common questions that I’ll try to answer (though I’m hardly an expert after three weeks):

The food – Yes there is a lot of meat, yes it is good, and yes it’s tempting to eat all the time. I haven’t been out to too many fancy restaurants, so can’t say much about the high end stuff, but I have been enjoying local food for the most part, especially the medialunas (small croissants) and of course the sweets, like havanettes which are cones of dulce de leche dipped in chocolate. The empanadas are common, folded pockets of flaky bread filled with meats, cheeses and veggies. I like them, but I can’t shake the feeling that they’re just like Hot Pockets. The food here is not spicy, most is flavored with just salt or oil, so I miss the punch of Mexican food. Most of the cafes, where I eat the most, have toastadas (toasted sandwiches), tortas (quiches), pasta, and pieces of chicken, and beef. I have to be careful ordering things like salad, because I ordered a tomato salad and ended up with a big bowl of tomatoes. Salad dressing as we know it is unheard of here, just oil and vinegar. I try to buy veggies and fruits at the grocery store, because those are harder to get in meals. There is a treasure hunt of sorts going on right now for peanut butter, because it is not found anywhere! The American students are going crazy for a PB&J and so we’ve been going into every food stores asking for “salsa de maní”. No such luck, but thankfully mom and dad are sending it down to me. I think I’ll have to hide it from everyone! Going to the market for the first time was a bit disorienting. It sounds weird, but everything just looks different. Most things come in pouches or boxes instead of cans, and many of the seasonings and sauces we’re used to just aren’t around. I think I have been spoiled by the supermarkets with aisle after aisle of selection. Food and cooking here is simple and there isn’t such a demand for variety, I think. By the way, milk doesn’t need to be refrigerated here. It’s treated in a way that allows it to sit on the shelf without problem, which is necessary in countries where refrigerators may not be common. The milk at breakfast expires in December. That took some getting used to.

Belgrano – The neighborhood is in the northern part of the city. If you’re looking for it on a map, look towards the north-central area, bordered (kind of) by Libertador, Monroe, Lacroze y Cramer. I suppose you could try mapping Virrey Olaguer y Feliu and Cabildo streets, if you really wanted to try. I don’t think mapquest will work – it probably won’t understand the zip code C1426EBB. It’s like living in north Phoenix for you valley folk, or up by Ina for those of you Tucson inclined. It’s quick to get to the other areas, especially on the Subte. Belgrano, by the way, was a lawyer-turned-leader in the war for independence here, and he also designed the Argentine flag:


He’s on the 10 peso bill, too. A familiar face.

The language – It’s true that there is a different way of speaking here than, say, Mexico Spanish. Instead of the “yuh” sound with double l’s, like in “ella”, it’s spoken with a “jo”… “a-ja” is how “ella” would be pronounced here. Same goes for “y” sounds, “yo” here is “zho”. I didn’t really notice the accent beyond these differences until I heard a student from Mexico speaking his Spanish, and then I heard it. Plus, they talk a bit slower here than in Mexico. Whew. There is also a whole lexicon of BsAs slang here, called “lunfardo” that is everywhere. I’d like to learn it but not sure if I’d use it, because slang terms can always be trouble if you don’t know every single meaning behind it!

The Southern Hemisphere – I have lost all sense of direction here, thanks to the tall buildings and the strange position of the sun. Due to the location of Argentina and the winter time, the sun is extremely north in the sky, and that makes figuring out my direction pretty difficult. It is also hard because the city is oriented east-west and all directions stem from the ports, with “north” being towards the river and “south” being away from the river. By the way, no, I have not noticed whether or not the water swirls the opposite direction here while going down the drain. And sadly, I have not been able to see the constellations down here, like the Southern Cross, because the city makes it nearly impossible. Even out in the country, you can still see the bright glow.

Whew, is this entry long enough for ya?

I´ve put more pictures up on my photobucket site, including some of my apartment and the city around. I haven´t been able to take a picture of my host family because Marta has been sick, but I´ll ask them when she gets better.

( A few sample photos here )


Ciao!

Welcome to Argentina, Sarah! Tucson is well represented in the far south!