I feel like these few tales of my recent experiences will paint a picture of Argentine life. Basically, it´s crazy. As always, some of these crazy experiences have been good, and some have just been crazy. Read and enjoy.
Good Crazy
Futbol:
Now, let me preface this story by saying that I´ve been a fan at many sporting events in my day. Nothing compares to the experience of being a soccer fan in Buenos Aires. Every Sunday there is a game at the stadium that is located in the outskirts of one of the northernmost neighborhoods in BsAs. Last Sunday, Nathan, Heather, Evan, Jimmy and I (all friends from IES) were initiated as ¨real futbol fans¨after our experience.
Before we left, this is what we knew:
-Don´t cheer for the wrong team.
-Don´t wear the colors of the wrong team.
-Don´t associate at all with the wrong team.
-And, pray to God that the right team wins.
Well, the issue of which team is the ¨right team¨and which team is the ¨wrong team¨is controversial in Buenos Aires. There are two local teams: River and Boca. Each team has their own stadium and their own fans. THERE IS A HUGE RIVALRY. I´ve heard tales of dangerous outbreaks involving guns and fire and all things scary and dangerous that have occured as a result of upset fans.
Since we were going to the River stadium, we decided to be River fans. We made a good choice. As we approached the stadium, we quickly became lost in a mob of red, white and black (the colors of River): everyone wore the jersey. As we got closer to the stadium, two things happened. 1: The density of the mob intensified. 2: The chants of the River team amplified. We were among tens of thousands of die-hard fans and we hadn´t even entered the stadium yet. Ohhh maaannn!
Ticket-buying. THIS was an experience in and of itself. Unlike in the U.S., there isn't a nice little ticket booth with nice little fixed ticket prices. There are men who walk around with a handful of tickets and sell them to you (or completely rip you off, as it happened in our case!) The ticket man came up to our group, asked us how many people we were (6) and then said, ¨300 pesos.¨ We tried haggling-- but one of the people in our group took out his wallet and began counting money. Poor choice. The ticket man grabbed all the money that this guy had in his hand and then looked to the rest of us to complete the payment. Another guy took out his wallet and the same thing happened. The ticket man gave us tickets and walked away.
We were all in a state of shock for a few minutes. We´d look at the guys´empty wallets and then look at tickets and thought, ¨Wait... what just happened?¨ Like any good American tourists, we shrugged it off and considered it to be part of this great sporting experience! :)
After that we were herded into many different lines and began the process of entering the stadium. We went through like 8 security checks, complete with full- body pat-downs from armed police in riot gear, and had our goods convinscated from us. (I guess the police have intervened after those scary and dangerous experiences that I had heard about!)
Once we were finally in the stadium, we sprinted up about 29 flights of stairs, squeezed through crowds of people and declared our ¨seats¨ in the middle of a snug and sweaty crowd of impassioned fans. The masses of tens of thousands of fans were simultaneously jumping up and down, chanting and fist pumping to a beautifully synchronized rendition of one of the many River team songs FOR THE ENTIRE GAME. This was an amazingly energized spectacle to see and hear. Thankfully, River won-- which set the crowd into a non-stop hour of singing songs of celebrations. A great demonstration of Argentina´s obsession and passion for the game of futbol.
Día de la Memoria de la Verdad y la Justicia:
¨The Day of Remembrance for Truth and Justice¨ is a National Holiday in Argentina that is celebrated March 24th. Pretty wickedly charged name, eh? Well, it´s fitting for the history that it´s commemorating.
The holiday exists to commemorate the victims of the Argentine military dictadorship of 1976-1983. This military dictatorship abducted, tortured and brutally killed any persons (rough estimates are 29,999 people) who they considered to be dissidents to their desired form of government. When the government's fear tactics had forced much of the population into silence, a group of mothers, known as the Madres de la Plaza de Mayo, refused to hide themselves away. The whole time period is called ¨The Dirty War¨ and is an ugly episode that cannot be buried and (finally) refuses to be silenced.
Anyway, Tuesday was this holiday in which businesses, schools and most shops and restaurants were closed. There was a celebration-- which included parades, dances, music, and speeches by The Mothers, one of the many international human rights groups that formed as a result of the Dirty War. Surprisingly, the atmosphere was similar to that of the futbol game. Tens of thousands of people squeezed onto the city´s main avenues, sandwiched under other people´s armpits, and inhaling other people´s sweat. This city knows how to get up close and personal. There were even chants and fist pumps, like at the futbol game. The parade included different groups of dancers and a huge marching band (it reminded me of Carnaval!)
The center of the parade held the most important (and most exciting, in my opinion) element of the holiday, the Mothers. Aging mothers and grandmothers, who founded the Mothers of the Plaza de Mayo (and who still march every Thursday in the Plaza) wore their white hankerchiefs imprinted with names of disappeared sons and daughters around their heads, and carried signs emblazoned with photographs of their loved ones who have disappeared. It was an incredible experience to see the Mothers and hear what they had to say. 33 years ago, they started as a handful of women and they grew to become a national force; now they are an international inspiration, powered, against all odds, by love for their children. Precious.
La Carrera de Miguel Sanchez:
This morning I ran a 10K race called the Race of Miguel Sanchez. The race started at 9am in one of the BIG parks in Palermo. A theme of Buenos Aires= people everywhere. This continued to be the case. It was unlike any race I´ve ever run! I got there at about 8:45, just in time to catch the HUGE crowd of synchronized stretching. It was like being transported into a highly animated episode with thousands of Richard Simmons. FANTASTIC. There was loud music, carnival rides, huge balloon floats, tons of sponsors and a general wave of excitement and good energy. Little did I know-- the race was commemorating, yet again, a very important person, Miguel Sanchez (go figure, right!?) I found out after the race about the life of this guy by some of the hundreds of demonstrators and speakers who were waving posters and distributing fliers. I was even interviewed about what I thought about Miguel Sanchez and what happened to him. The short story of Miguel Sanchez is this: he was an amazing runner, soccer player and poet who ¨disappeared¨at age 25 during the military dictatorship... never to be seen again.
So if it seems to you that Argentines always seem afire with fanatical zeal for one thing or another... you´re right. They are. And, usually, with good reason.
JUST Crazy
USUALLY Argentines have good reason for their craziness. But, at times, there is no reason whatsoever. The following experiences will demonstrate what I mean.
VISA:
Obtaining my VISA in Argentina was one of the worst experiences I've had in Argentina. I was assigned to go to the Migraciones office on a certain day with some students from my university program. We were supposed to bring with us: some foto carnets, photocopies of every page of our passport, $200 pesos, a Criminal Records chart and our University inscription-- which alone were annoyingly difficult to attain. We were supposed to get there at 7am and meet. Well, funny thing is that the Migraciones offices, like every other place in Buenos Aires, is constantly overflowing with people. The line to get into the office was ALREADY at least 2900 people long and wrapped around and around different buildings. I got there and didn´t see anyone that looked familiar. So, I got in line. 2 minutes later, there were another 50 people in line behind me. I thought about eating the only food I had brought, a banana, and looked at the line and thought, ¨I should save it, it could be awhile...¨
So, I got there at 7am. After inching up in a line outside in the blazing hot sun for 6 hours, I got close to the front door of the Migraciones office around 1pm when a man said, ¨No hay mas numeros.¨ From the frustrated looks on the peoples´ faces around me, I knew whatever that meant could not be good. Someone explained to me that they only have a certain amount of numbers each day. If they don´t have any more numbers, you have to come back and try again another day. The person told me that the first person in line had been waiting since 2pm yesterday. Ahhh...
That night, I complained to my host mom at dinner. She had a look on her face that said, ¨Honey, you ain´t seen nothin´yet.¨ She told me that she waited in line for three and a half days to get a VISA for her daughter. DAYS.
I complained to my university. They said, ¨What were you doing waiting in line?¨ You were supposed to skip the outside line because you had an appointment.¨ SHUT UP.
So, the following week I went back to Migraciones. I had an appointment at 7am. In my United States understanding of the word ¨appointment,¨I thought it meant that I would show up and someone would have my name on list and be expecting me. I thought that I might have to wait a half hour or so. HA! Nuh uh, girlfriend!
My ¨appointment¨meant that I could skip the outside lines and wait on all the inside lines. At least the inside place had chairs. The chairs were jammed into a room: the rows were endless and spaced so that your knees didn´t fit comfortably behind the chair in front of you. There was no air, no bathroom, no food, no water and lots of waiting. In one room with hundreds of people, the process went like this: the Migraciones workers call your name at any time and that was your chance to get taken. However, they don´t use a microphone-- they just sit in their chairs at the front of the room and say your name. So amidst the cries of babies and the groans of big people, hearing anything the workers said was difficult. I would just try and pop my head up high enough to see their lips moving, forming some unknown words. More unluckily, my last name doesn´t Teasily flow off the tongue for Spanish-speakers. They could butcher my last name and I could miss my one chance to get taken!
I don´t want to reminisce too much: not good for the health. I remember being most depressed because I didn´t see one person smile all day. Until... 6pm... I walked OUT of the doors of the Migraciones office with a temporary VISA in hand... and I think I was the happiest person in the world at that moment. :)
Classes:
When I imagined my study abroad classes, I imagined trips to museums, guided tours of the city and relaxed teachers who brought mate and cookies to class everyday. To my dismay, that's not exactly how it goes here. I'm taking 5 classes, all of which are in Spanish. I have a Spanish class, a History class, a "Cultural Icons" class, a drawing class and an internship that includes a 2 hour seminar every week. The classes are all reading-heavy; the teachers are demanding; and there is no mate nor cookies. :(
IES, my study abroad program, prides itself on being "eco-friendly" because they don't print out any syllabuses or readings for us. Instead, they give the original copies of all the syllabuses and readings to a photocoping place down the street and have them photocopy everything for every student and make us pay for it. Eco-friendly actually means cheap and lazy. The photocoping place is the most disorganized place ever.
Imagine with me: you walk in and you see like 29 photocopiers with pages of readings flying every which way. You ask the non-English speaking workers for your readings and they look at you blankly with an expression of, "Uhhduuhhhhh." They always tell you that it's not ready and come back tomorrow. You come back tomorrow and they say come back next week. You come back next week and you get your packet of about 500 pages, pay a ridiculously high price and walk away. You go home and try to read. You realize that every other page is missing from every reading. Also, the words are cut off from every fourth page. You try to read what Spanish you can decipher through the missing pages and cut off words. You understand nothing. You go to class and have a pop essay quiz. Aiie aie aie... A series of unfortunate events.
So classes are not as easy as I was expecting. Still, I'm not killing myself over homework. I do some if I have time...
One class that is especially new/unique/strange/thrilling is my drawing class. I wanted to take a class that I would never otherwise take. Art. I'm taking it at a local university called Universidad de Museo y Sociedad Argentina. It's fun because all the people in my class are Argentines who are beginning their art major. Our drawing class is Thursday nights from 6-10pm.
The first day, our teacher put a cone, sphere and cube on a stool in the center of the room. She told us to get easles and draw what we saw. So, I drew a triangle, a circle and a square on my paper and was finished in about 2 minutes. Everybody else spent forever drawing each line and corner and then would erase everything and draw it again. We ended up having 2 HOURS to draw these three shapes. After 2 hours, the teacher rearranged the shapes on the stool and told us to draw the new arrangement for the remaining 2 hours of class. AHH!! The first class was quite possibly the longest 4 hours of my life. I survived by playing "darts" with my pencil against my easle during the last half of class. :)
Saturday, March 28, 2009
Sunday, March 22, 2009
Heart of the Matter
I´ll just jump right into a few things that have been ¨core¨ or the ¨heart of the matter¨ (as India Arie and Toya Glen would call it) of my time in Buenos Aires.
WEDNESDAY NIGHT DINNER:
Every Wednesday night, it´s ¨family¨dinner!! Around 10 o´clock people start coming over. I haven´t quite figured out everyone´s relation yet... but here is the core group of people:
-Silvia, my host mom
-Gustavo, my host dad
-Natalie, host sister #1
-Colleen, host sister #2
-Soledad, my host mom´s daughter, 27 years old, kindergarten teacher
-Romario, Soledad´s boyfriend, 30 something years old, don´t know what he does
-Augustin, my host mom´s son, 30 something years old, works at Freak Model Agency
-Ro, Augustin´s girlfriend, 30 something years old, works at a clothes shop in Palermo, Buenos Aires
-Little Gustavo (fondly known as Gustavito), my host dad´s (Gustavo) son, 30 something years old, also hosts students from study abroad programs, not sure what he does
-Girl #1, most likely Gustavito´s girlfriend, don´t know anything about her
-Tomas, small child of maybe 10 years-- my host mom´s grandson but not the son of Soledad or Augustin...?
-Raquel, my host mom´s mother, in her 70s, used to be an education professor and now does commercials and advertising!
-Aunt #1, my host mom´s aunt and Raquel´s sister, also in her 70s, teaches Spanish sign language to the deaf, likes wine a LOT and always steals the bread from the kitchen when she leaves
-Graciela, my host mom´s best friend since grade school, she is a professional tango dancer, and psychologist!!
Everyone is quirky. The first night I sat next to Raquel. She told me the same joke over and over. When I finally understood it, around the 6th time she told me, it was actually pretty funny. The aunt, on the other hand, does not use words much when she speaks. She will do sign language with her hands. The first night she sat on the other side of me. She lifted up a bottle of wine and looked at me with an expression that I read as, ¨Would you like some wine?¨ So, I nodded. As soon as I had finished the glass, she had already refilled it. I asked her how to sign, ¨NO MORE PLEASE¨ and she just laughed at me and kept refilling my glass. The following Wednesday I made sure that I didn´t sit next to the aunt, but she still managed to refill my glass with wine every time I set in on the table. I´ve had some interesting conversations with Graciela-- she tells me all about the multiple plastic surgeries she has had. She also invited me to the club where she dances-- so I´m going to go! I love Wednesday night dinners-- best food of the week and great company!
SOUL- SEARCHING
Lent:
A season for inward reflection: a time of stripping down to essentials and a time of sacrifice as people focus on their relationship with God. Also, for me, it is a time that connects one to the rest of humanity, to Mother Earth and to oneself. Whether one fasts for days alongside of his cancer-striken brother-in-law who is half-way across the country to show love and solidarity or one abstains from sweets to challenge their self-control-- I believe there is power in this time of inward reflection.
For me, I have committed to not using the most alien-looking, fuel-guzzling, black fume-farting machine I´ve ever seen: el colectivo (the public bus). There´s something about the noseless fleets of colectivos that terrifies me. Maybe its because they zoom in and out of traffic at ridiculously high speeds and screech to a stop just long enough for you to have to jump off before el colectivo takes off again, leaving behind a nasty cloud of diselous (not sure if that´s a word) vapor for inhalation and contamination of thy lungs. Yeah, that could be part of it. Also, it costs $1,20 pesos per trip. And I´m cheap.
So, I walk. A lot. I enjoy walking. It allows me to really get to know the streets, pop my head into different restaurants and ice-cream shops and it´s a sure-fire way to get a good nights sleep. (Women of Pod 169-- instant cure for our insomnia epidemic!) :)
Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance:
Some people call this book ¨thought candy.¨ I would have to agree. I´ve been known to have no attention span and therefore a very short-term relationship with reading in general. But I literally can not put this book down. I bring it to class with me and sneak a few words when the teacher is writing on the board; I read it during lunch, before bed and whenever else I have spare time. You know if you´re Italian and you think something is really good, you would put your fingers to your lips, kiss your fingers and then release your fingers. Well, that gesture would be appropriate here.
The book includes some reflection on time-- and the following are some notes I wrote while reading-- dedicated to Miss. Leslie Mack.
-Never be in too much of a hurry to be courteous.
-Never be in too much of a hurry to talk--- to break the endless day-to-day shallowness, the monotony that leaves a person wondering weeks later where all the time went
-Does change produced by technology and modernity always mean improvement? While technology may move life faster and make life broader, does it provide the same depth? -Don´t ask the question, ¨What´s new?¨ It begs for a trivial and fashionable response about life in general. Ask instead, ¨What´s best?¨ It cuts deeper and demands thought and personal opinion.
I´m definitely learning about myself and what makes me happy. Right now I´d like to live an old- fashioned lifestyle in a town of 100 people and 200 horses in the middle-of-nowhere. :)
La Estancia:
Last week, all the students in the IES program went on an ¨excursion¨ to this ranch type of place in ¨the country,¨which is about 2 hours from Buenos Aires. This place was surreal. We got off the bus and got on a horse carriage that took us to the ¨main lodge.¨ The lawn was filled with tables and chairs and a buffet full of food. There were servers holding trays of empanadas (Argentine meat filled pies) -- we could eat as much as we wanted for FREE! There were 2 pools, fields for playing sports, bikes and trails for walking. I was in a very happy place. After I had my fill of the outside buffet, the masses of students started entering this building. Turned out that the inside of the building was another HUGE BUFFET!! There was a ginormus salad bar (with more than just lettuce), and tons of different appetizers. I got a plate that was overflowing with food and sat down at a table. Then, a waiter came to the table with a basket of hot bread rolls and a huge skewer with like a whole fried pig on it! He cut the slices right there are gave one to each person at the table. Then, a waiter with a ginormous skewer of beef came, then the chicken came. It continued like this: the dessert bar opened next. Who in their right mind refuses dessert even if you feel like you´re already bursting at the seams? Not I. It was a glorious day. It felt so good to lay by the pool, while in a severe food coma, and breathe in the clean and fresh country air. Ahhh... life was good!
FUNNY FOREIGNER
Confusions happen naturally, right? I always tell the story of my dear friend Janne, who is from Norway and went to St. Olaf. We were roommates one night while in Guatemala together last year. Someone knocked on our door and asked us if we had any TUMS (unfortunately, a common necessity for the entire time in Guatemala). Janne looked at me with a very confused expression and then looked back at the girl at the door. She said, ¨Well, sure! I´ve got two tums right here,¨as she held up her two thumbs! As I poke fun at that experience, I´ve acquired a few mix-up stories of my own due to language and cultural differences. Here are a few:
1. This happened the first day I arrived in Buenos Aires, and was the first communication I had with anyone at the Residencia where I stayed. The manager told me that I needed to give her a money deposit for the keys to my room. The word for keys is ¨llaves.¨ In Argentina, the double L is pronounced as a CH. So, I thought she was saying ¨Chaves.¨So, I started talking about Cesar Chavez. I´d say it was a pretty positive start to my Spanish acquisition...
2. It´s typical to have a piece of fruit for dessert at my homestay. Last Wednesday night, Ro, the girlfriend of my host mom´s son, asked me if I would like my ¨fruta con cascara.¨Well, in Argentina, they don´t pronounce the S too often. So, I heard, ¨fruta con caca.¨ And, you know from my story with the CACA-- that caca and fruta would be an unpleasant combination. I said, ¨Heck no, that´s gross,¨and Ro peeled the whole apple before she served it to me. We realized afterwards that confusion had mounted.
3. Maradona is a good name to be familiar with in Argentina. He is the coach of the National Futbol team. Not to be confused with Madonna, who has nothing to do with Futbol and little to do with Argentina.
4. Every morning, I look out from my balcony to see what the weather looks like. Every morning, the sidewalks are wet, so I assume that it rained during the night. I went on believing this for awhile, until I collided (literally) with the real reason why the sidewalks are wet every morning. The shop keepers on every street sweep and hose off the sidewalk in front of the store every morning. One morning I was up running pretty early and ran past a man throwing a bucket of water onto the sidewalk. Unfortunately, I was in-between the man and the sidewalk. He was very sorry and I was very wet. At least I know that it doesn´t rain every night. :)
Well, that´s all for now! Satisfaction with life is up to a 17.92 because I had a great weekend filled with jazz clubs and soccer games-- I´ll have to write about these next time!
Love to you all,
Mica
WEDNESDAY NIGHT DINNER:
Every Wednesday night, it´s ¨family¨dinner!! Around 10 o´clock people start coming over. I haven´t quite figured out everyone´s relation yet... but here is the core group of people:
-Silvia, my host mom
-Gustavo, my host dad
-Natalie, host sister #1
-Colleen, host sister #2
-Soledad, my host mom´s daughter, 27 years old, kindergarten teacher
-Romario, Soledad´s boyfriend, 30 something years old, don´t know what he does
-Augustin, my host mom´s son, 30 something years old, works at Freak Model Agency
-Ro, Augustin´s girlfriend, 30 something years old, works at a clothes shop in Palermo, Buenos Aires
-Little Gustavo (fondly known as Gustavito), my host dad´s (Gustavo) son, 30 something years old, also hosts students from study abroad programs, not sure what he does
-Girl #1, most likely Gustavito´s girlfriend, don´t know anything about her
-Tomas, small child of maybe 10 years-- my host mom´s grandson but not the son of Soledad or Augustin...?
-Raquel, my host mom´s mother, in her 70s, used to be an education professor and now does commercials and advertising!
-Aunt #1, my host mom´s aunt and Raquel´s sister, also in her 70s, teaches Spanish sign language to the deaf, likes wine a LOT and always steals the bread from the kitchen when she leaves
-Graciela, my host mom´s best friend since grade school, she is a professional tango dancer, and psychologist!!
Everyone is quirky. The first night I sat next to Raquel. She told me the same joke over and over. When I finally understood it, around the 6th time she told me, it was actually pretty funny. The aunt, on the other hand, does not use words much when she speaks. She will do sign language with her hands. The first night she sat on the other side of me. She lifted up a bottle of wine and looked at me with an expression that I read as, ¨Would you like some wine?¨ So, I nodded. As soon as I had finished the glass, she had already refilled it. I asked her how to sign, ¨NO MORE PLEASE¨ and she just laughed at me and kept refilling my glass. The following Wednesday I made sure that I didn´t sit next to the aunt, but she still managed to refill my glass with wine every time I set in on the table. I´ve had some interesting conversations with Graciela-- she tells me all about the multiple plastic surgeries she has had. She also invited me to the club where she dances-- so I´m going to go! I love Wednesday night dinners-- best food of the week and great company!
SOUL- SEARCHING
Lent:
A season for inward reflection: a time of stripping down to essentials and a time of sacrifice as people focus on their relationship with God. Also, for me, it is a time that connects one to the rest of humanity, to Mother Earth and to oneself. Whether one fasts for days alongside of his cancer-striken brother-in-law who is half-way across the country to show love and solidarity or one abstains from sweets to challenge their self-control-- I believe there is power in this time of inward reflection.
For me, I have committed to not using the most alien-looking, fuel-guzzling, black fume-farting machine I´ve ever seen: el colectivo (the public bus). There´s something about the noseless fleets of colectivos that terrifies me. Maybe its because they zoom in and out of traffic at ridiculously high speeds and screech to a stop just long enough for you to have to jump off before el colectivo takes off again, leaving behind a nasty cloud of diselous (not sure if that´s a word) vapor for inhalation and contamination of thy lungs. Yeah, that could be part of it. Also, it costs $1,20 pesos per trip. And I´m cheap.
So, I walk. A lot. I enjoy walking. It allows me to really get to know the streets, pop my head into different restaurants and ice-cream shops and it´s a sure-fire way to get a good nights sleep. (Women of Pod 169-- instant cure for our insomnia epidemic!) :)
Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance:
Some people call this book ¨thought candy.¨ I would have to agree. I´ve been known to have no attention span and therefore a very short-term relationship with reading in general. But I literally can not put this book down. I bring it to class with me and sneak a few words when the teacher is writing on the board; I read it during lunch, before bed and whenever else I have spare time. You know if you´re Italian and you think something is really good, you would put your fingers to your lips, kiss your fingers and then release your fingers. Well, that gesture would be appropriate here.
The book includes some reflection on time-- and the following are some notes I wrote while reading-- dedicated to Miss. Leslie Mack.
-Never be in too much of a hurry to be courteous.
-Never be in too much of a hurry to talk--- to break the endless day-to-day shallowness, the monotony that leaves a person wondering weeks later where all the time went
-Does change produced by technology and modernity always mean improvement? While technology may move life faster and make life broader, does it provide the same depth? -Don´t ask the question, ¨What´s new?¨ It begs for a trivial and fashionable response about life in general. Ask instead, ¨What´s best?¨ It cuts deeper and demands thought and personal opinion.
I´m definitely learning about myself and what makes me happy. Right now I´d like to live an old- fashioned lifestyle in a town of 100 people and 200 horses in the middle-of-nowhere. :)
La Estancia:
Last week, all the students in the IES program went on an ¨excursion¨ to this ranch type of place in ¨the country,¨which is about 2 hours from Buenos Aires. This place was surreal. We got off the bus and got on a horse carriage that took us to the ¨main lodge.¨ The lawn was filled with tables and chairs and a buffet full of food. There were servers holding trays of empanadas (Argentine meat filled pies) -- we could eat as much as we wanted for FREE! There were 2 pools, fields for playing sports, bikes and trails for walking. I was in a very happy place. After I had my fill of the outside buffet, the masses of students started entering this building. Turned out that the inside of the building was another HUGE BUFFET!! There was a ginormus salad bar (with more than just lettuce), and tons of different appetizers. I got a plate that was overflowing with food and sat down at a table. Then, a waiter came to the table with a basket of hot bread rolls and a huge skewer with like a whole fried pig on it! He cut the slices right there are gave one to each person at the table. Then, a waiter with a ginormous skewer of beef came, then the chicken came. It continued like this: the dessert bar opened next. Who in their right mind refuses dessert even if you feel like you´re already bursting at the seams? Not I. It was a glorious day. It felt so good to lay by the pool, while in a severe food coma, and breathe in the clean and fresh country air. Ahhh... life was good!
FUNNY FOREIGNER
Confusions happen naturally, right? I always tell the story of my dear friend Janne, who is from Norway and went to St. Olaf. We were roommates one night while in Guatemala together last year. Someone knocked on our door and asked us if we had any TUMS (unfortunately, a common necessity for the entire time in Guatemala). Janne looked at me with a very confused expression and then looked back at the girl at the door. She said, ¨Well, sure! I´ve got two tums right here,¨as she held up her two thumbs! As I poke fun at that experience, I´ve acquired a few mix-up stories of my own due to language and cultural differences. Here are a few:
1. This happened the first day I arrived in Buenos Aires, and was the first communication I had with anyone at the Residencia where I stayed. The manager told me that I needed to give her a money deposit for the keys to my room. The word for keys is ¨llaves.¨ In Argentina, the double L is pronounced as a CH. So, I thought she was saying ¨Chaves.¨So, I started talking about Cesar Chavez. I´d say it was a pretty positive start to my Spanish acquisition...
2. It´s typical to have a piece of fruit for dessert at my homestay. Last Wednesday night, Ro, the girlfriend of my host mom´s son, asked me if I would like my ¨fruta con cascara.¨Well, in Argentina, they don´t pronounce the S too often. So, I heard, ¨fruta con caca.¨ And, you know from my story with the CACA-- that caca and fruta would be an unpleasant combination. I said, ¨Heck no, that´s gross,¨and Ro peeled the whole apple before she served it to me. We realized afterwards that confusion had mounted.
3. Maradona is a good name to be familiar with in Argentina. He is the coach of the National Futbol team. Not to be confused with Madonna, who has nothing to do with Futbol and little to do with Argentina.
4. Every morning, I look out from my balcony to see what the weather looks like. Every morning, the sidewalks are wet, so I assume that it rained during the night. I went on believing this for awhile, until I collided (literally) with the real reason why the sidewalks are wet every morning. The shop keepers on every street sweep and hose off the sidewalk in front of the store every morning. One morning I was up running pretty early and ran past a man throwing a bucket of water onto the sidewalk. Unfortunately, I was in-between the man and the sidewalk. He was very sorry and I was very wet. At least I know that it doesn´t rain every night. :)
Well, that´s all for now! Satisfaction with life is up to a 17.92 because I had a great weekend filled with jazz clubs and soccer games-- I´ll have to write about these next time!
Love to you all,
Mica
Sunday, March 15, 2009
March to a new beat
Hey all!!
I was trying to think of a creative title. I couldn´t. The best I could come up with was ¨March to a new beat.¨ March is a month (obvio) that has brought many changes. In retrospect, February was awesome. Yeah, it began with a bit of a rough transition, but bloomed into a beautiful month of firsts, friendships and fun.
In March, the first change that came was definitely the best. He came early on the 1st. He traveled from Peru by plane and taxi and arrived at the front door to my residence around 8am. Nathan, my boyfriend, is also spending the semester in Buenos Aires. My 15-year old sister asked, (and I quote) ¨Did you run toward each other in slow motion like in the movies?¨ Yeah, it was kind of like that, except in fast motion. I feel WONDERFULLY lucky that we get to share this experience together. That same day, Cristina Fernández de Kirchner, the president of Argentina, was at Congreso (less than 1 block from my residence) giving a speech. There were uniformed police on horses lining the streets for blocks, young boys playing the drums and people of all ages and places carrying huge flags and banners. It was wild. There was not an inch of free space to be found. I squeezed my way to the front of the crowd and got some pretty great videos. If I can figure out how to upload those videos onto this blog, I will. For those interested, Cristina Kirchner is the first woman to be president in Argentina. She has been president since October 29, 2007 (my birthday!), following the presidency of her husband, Nestor Kirchner. Basically, her message this day was that the state should step up its role in the economy to offset the world crisis. Like most presidents, she is loved by some and hated by some. Actually, in conversation with some Argentines, they have told me that since Obama has become president, they feel that Americans might actually be O.K. people. :)
Anyway, that same day, Nathan and I walked around some of the weekly Sunday markets in San Telmo, drank licuados (smoothies) at a corner restaurant and cooked some delicious food. That evening we both walked to our respective homestays. Walking 29 blocks with a rolling suitcase and backpacking backpack something NOT to do in this fashionable city. I'm sure we looked absolutely ridiculous! Our homestays are about 10 blocks apart, a 20 minute walk-- not bad at all!
THE HOMESTAY
I´m living on the 6th floor of a very nice apartment building in Palermo. I´m right across the street from a huge GREEN park called El Parque de Las Heras. Upon opening the door to my apartment building, I´m greeted by my new host mother and housemate. My housemate looks strangely familiar. We exchange kisses on the cheek, the customary greeting and both stare at each other a little longer than is normal. I recognize her. She, obviously, recognizes me. We´re speaking Spanish and stumbling over our words to try and figure out the familiarity. ¨Como...?¨ ¨Me pareces como...¨ We realize that we sat next to each other on the plane when we flew to Buenos Aires over a month ago. My housemate is Natalie from Minnesota. I wrote about her in my first entry because we bonded in the plane over our common friends Kenny and Lizzy. And the world becomes smaller....
Natalie was my life saver during my first week of homestay life. Our host family is crazy. Legitimately crazy. Like my host parents met in a psych ward where they were both seeking counseling after their third divorce. Romantic. I still do not know how many kids they have. I do not think they know how many kids they have. It seems to change daily. The last count was 12 kids, 5 grandkids. I am the 38th student that they have hosted in 5 years. Do the math... that´s about 10 semesters, 3.8 students a semester. At the beginning it felt like I was number 38. Just another student-- it seemed like my host parents had lost interest in the hosting game at number 5 or 6 or maybe 17 or 29. They didn´t ask me anything about myself, where I came from or what I´m studying here. I tried to ask them questions about themselves, but they´d respond with a word or two and continue talking amongst themselves. That´s why Natalie was my life saver. We would talk in Spanish to each other at dinner when our host mom was talking on the phone and our host dad was talking to himself. It was an awkward first week. I´d ask to help cook or clean to try and feel like part of the ¨family¨and my host mom would tell me to go read in my room or go to the park across the street. Boo hoo.
Some of my friends told me that I should try and switch families, that this family was illegally hosting 3 students from different study abroad programs when the rule is that you´re only allowed to host up to 2 students from 1 program. I was not ready to give up. I´m a pretty inquisitive person, borderline nosy. Plus, I´m a psychology major. What a perfect family to try and figure out. So, I´m staying here and I´ve actually been enjoying the homestay this past week. Here are mini descriptions of my host family:
Mom: Silvia. I have no idea how old she is. She has (approximately) 12 kids and 5 grandkids.
I was trying to think of a creative title. I couldn´t. The best I could come up with was ¨March to a new beat.¨ March is a month (obvio) that has brought many changes. In retrospect, February was awesome. Yeah, it began with a bit of a rough transition, but bloomed into a beautiful month of firsts, friendships and fun.
In March, the first change that came was definitely the best. He came early on the 1st. He traveled from Peru by plane and taxi and arrived at the front door to my residence around 8am. Nathan, my boyfriend, is also spending the semester in Buenos Aires. My 15-year old sister asked, (and I quote) ¨Did you run toward each other in slow motion like in the movies?¨ Yeah, it was kind of like that, except in fast motion. I feel WONDERFULLY lucky that we get to share this experience together. That same day, Cristina Fernández de Kirchner, the president of Argentina, was at Congreso (less than 1 block from my residence) giving a speech. There were uniformed police on horses lining the streets for blocks, young boys playing the drums and people of all ages and places carrying huge flags and banners. It was wild. There was not an inch of free space to be found. I squeezed my way to the front of the crowd and got some pretty great videos. If I can figure out how to upload those videos onto this blog, I will. For those interested, Cristina Kirchner is the first woman to be president in Argentina. She has been president since October 29, 2007 (my birthday!), following the presidency of her husband, Nestor Kirchner. Basically, her message this day was that the state should step up its role in the economy to offset the world crisis. Like most presidents, she is loved by some and hated by some. Actually, in conversation with some Argentines, they have told me that since Obama has become president, they feel that Americans might actually be O.K. people. :)
Anyway, that same day, Nathan and I walked around some of the weekly Sunday markets in San Telmo, drank licuados (smoothies) at a corner restaurant and cooked some delicious food. That evening we both walked to our respective homestays. Walking 29 blocks with a rolling suitcase and backpacking backpack something NOT to do in this fashionable city. I'm sure we looked absolutely ridiculous! Our homestays are about 10 blocks apart, a 20 minute walk-- not bad at all!
THE HOMESTAY
I´m living on the 6th floor of a very nice apartment building in Palermo. I´m right across the street from a huge GREEN park called El Parque de Las Heras. Upon opening the door to my apartment building, I´m greeted by my new host mother and housemate. My housemate looks strangely familiar. We exchange kisses on the cheek, the customary greeting and both stare at each other a little longer than is normal. I recognize her. She, obviously, recognizes me. We´re speaking Spanish and stumbling over our words to try and figure out the familiarity. ¨Como...?¨ ¨Me pareces como...¨ We realize that we sat next to each other on the plane when we flew to Buenos Aires over a month ago. My housemate is Natalie from Minnesota. I wrote about her in my first entry because we bonded in the plane over our common friends Kenny and Lizzy. And the world becomes smaller....
Natalie was my life saver during my first week of homestay life. Our host family is crazy. Legitimately crazy. Like my host parents met in a psych ward where they were both seeking counseling after their third divorce. Romantic. I still do not know how many kids they have. I do not think they know how many kids they have. It seems to change daily. The last count was 12 kids, 5 grandkids. I am the 38th student that they have hosted in 5 years. Do the math... that´s about 10 semesters, 3.8 students a semester. At the beginning it felt like I was number 38. Just another student-- it seemed like my host parents had lost interest in the hosting game at number 5 or 6 or maybe 17 or 29. They didn´t ask me anything about myself, where I came from or what I´m studying here. I tried to ask them questions about themselves, but they´d respond with a word or two and continue talking amongst themselves. That´s why Natalie was my life saver. We would talk in Spanish to each other at dinner when our host mom was talking on the phone and our host dad was talking to himself. It was an awkward first week. I´d ask to help cook or clean to try and feel like part of the ¨family¨and my host mom would tell me to go read in my room or go to the park across the street. Boo hoo.
My host family is not mean, but they are not characterized by ¨MN Nice¨to which I am accustomed. The first night at dinner, they told me that they keep a ranking of all the students they host. Currently, my housemate Natalie is number 1. She is their all-time favorite. There is nothing not to like about her. However, my other housemate (who will go unnamed) and who was on vacation in Patagonia for my first week in the homestay, was last on their list. My mom proceeded to tell me all the things that she hates about my other housemate. Scary. Then, my dad pulled at the skin beneath his eye, a gesture in Argentina that means, ¨Be careful!¨ as to say that I, too, will soon have a place in their ranking. Welcome to the fam!
Mom: Silvia. I have no idea how old she is. She has (approximately) 12 kids and 5 grandkids.
Some of her kids live in Barcelona, Spain, others in Mendoza and Cordoba, Argentina and some in Buenos Aires. She is short, super tan and has dyed blonde hair. She does not work and spends most of her day out to lunch with her friends. She hates camping and hates the rain but likes shopping and dancing. She always wears some kind of black shirt and some kind of white bottoms.
Dad: Gustavo. He is more Italian looking than Spanish looking. He has grey hair, a lazy eye and is the boss-man of a big distributing company. He only goes into the office twice a week. For half the week (Fri- Mon), he and Silvia retreat to their home in the country. It´s pretty thrilling to have the apartment to ourselves for the long weekend. There are 4 students now (another student just came last night) and we have a good amount of fun together. However, at other times, like tonight when the kitchen sink broke and water flooded the kitchen, it´s not so cool to be alone in this apartment.
Soledad: She is Silvia´s 27 year old daughter. Her dad was Silvia´s second husband, a sexy Spanish man that I´ve recently heard stories about over dinner. She lives in the apartment and teaches kindergarden at a local private school. I guess it´s pretty common for older kids (even kids in their 30s) to live with their parents until they get married. It´s just too expensive for young people to have their own apartments in the city.
Pocholo (or something): He is the dog. When I first saw the dog, I was stoked! I thought that usually dog people form special bonds quickly (at least that´s what I´ve gathered from Dad) and if nothing else I could tell stories about Dakota (my yellow lab) and that my host family would understand our common ground. No. When I first petted Pocholo, Silvia told me to stop touching the dog. She said that they never touch the dog because he is dirty and sick. He usually lives at their country home. She pointed to his rear end where there was a nasty, infectious sore. They definitely have a different way of caring for their pets than I´m used to in my family. I´m pretty sure Dakota has taken over my quarters in our house.
Housemates: Right now there are 4 of us. There are 5 bedrooms in this apartment. One for the parents, one for Natalie, one for me, one for Colleen (from Texas) and one for Soledad. Soledad has been gone this weekend, so when Sabrina (another student from Brazil) came yesterday, we told her that she could stay in Soledad´s room. Supposedly, there are 2 more students coming in 2 weeks. I have NO IDEA where they will stay. Having housemates is fun and less intimidating to face this crazy family. But, I think 5 housemates is a little much. We shall see.
As I mentioned before, life in the homestay has gotten a lot better this week. Dinners have been filled with more natural conversation. I caught my host mom dancing while making dinner the other night and called her out on it. She then turned on some music and really showed me how she dances. Dang... she´s a better dancer than me! Aftewards, I tried to teach her ¨Soulja Boy¨and it was great fun. My host dad has been telling me a lot about his company that sells matë gourds and even gave me one for free!
Oh no! I´m turning into my parents
Every child´s nightmare, right? Well, I definitely catch myself doing/ saying things and realize, ¨Wow, that´s exactly what Mom or Dad would do.¨ A horrifyingly terrific thought. Here are a few examples:
Dad:
1. Take my lunch in an old plastic bread bag and reuse the bag everyday.
2. Scrounge up all the food in the fridge, put it in a pot and call it dinner.
3. Buy food from a health foods store that everyone else thinks is disgusting, but I find to be completely delicious.
4. Communicate my honest feelings through notes to other people
5. Avoid (at all costs) large groups of people. (A difficult task in BsAs)
Mom:
1. Check my watch and tap my foot often. Punctuality no existe.
2. Some of my friends in the residence would come into my room and ask me, ¨Why do you make your bed everyday?¨ I say, ¨I think it just looks nice and it makes me happy.¨ A response I heard over and over from Mom. After 20 years it finally sunk in.
3. What is the definition of a salad? The people here think that a bowl of lettuce= salad. Do I look like a rabbit? I was spoiled with a childhood of salads topped with walnuts and pomegranites, spinach and hard boiled eggs, carrots and cucumbers. Life after Mom´s salads just isn´t the same.
4. Seek sanctuary in gardens.
School
Oh yeah, that thing. We´ve had a painfully long two weeks of orientation and tomorrow finally begins our classes. I´m registered for a drawing class at Universidad del Museo Social Argentino, a Spanish class, a ¨Cultural Icons¨class, a history class and a service-learning internship. I have 1 class every MWF and 2 classes every T and Th. Most people lucked out with no classes on Friday. I am excited to start classes and finally develop a routine here.
QUIRKY
-Dinner at my homestay starts anytime after 10pm. Some nights it has begun as late as midnight and lasted until 2am. I am pretty much sleeping at the table.
-Some friends and I went out to a restaurant last weekend. Great food, great atmosphere but they charged us a $30 peso service fee (just for entering the restaurant). It´s pretty common for restaurants to have this kind of entrance fee-- so we must be careful!
-March 8th= International Day of Women. I never knew this existed until I got here! It´s a pretty big holiday with signs in most stores offering discounts and tons of flower kiosks all around.
-We have a maid at our house. She comes every Thursday. Every Wednesday night Silvia tries to use every plate and bowl and cup and pan in the house so that the maid will wash them. The maid makes my bed and straightens up my desk. I´ve always been gone when the maid has been here but it´s common for most middle-class families to have maids.
-Since most people live with their parents until they´re married and having visitors in the home is very uncommon-- they have these things called TELOS which is a sort of hotel where you can rent rooms by the hour. If not in the parks, young Argentine couples go to telos to enjoy themselves.
Unfortunately, I must end on that note! I hope to update soon with thoughts on my classes etc. Hope all is well at home. Satisfaciton with life has gotten back up to 17.1. You know where the remaining 2.9 is.
Lovelovelove,
Mica (my new Argentine nickname!)
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