It's been four months. Cuatro meses, y no lo se nada de nada.
I feel empty. vacio y llena, al mismo tiempo.
Where am I? Que es ese lugar en q estoy viviendo, sobreviviendo?
I have no idea how everything is all at once the same and foreign. Extrano, extrano, lo extrano, te extrano.
My thoughts are mingled. AndA, ParrA!
Mingled and tasteless. Rojas, azules, griz, transpariente.
Four months. One left. pero cuatro no es nada, no es nada aca, haciendo nada.
Sitting on my hands, rising to my feet. Me cayo. CADA dia, me cayo.
This world is no longer turning. Esta estretchiendo. I want to push it back it. Guardalo adentro.
I stopped learning four months ago. y fue todo lo q queria hacer antes. Ahora, q. se. yo.
Hardly anyone gets it. Whisper, whisper los ecos de la alma adentro. los ecos de la unica cosa q no puedo controlar. A donde voy? Por adonde vas?
My fear was that I wouldn't find "myself." Ahora, es q no la voy a poder reconizar. Y si puedo, no la voy a querrer. I am many. many mini mes. many mini meses.
Monday, October 20, 2008
Tuesday, June 17, 2008
I've found I have a second home...
So,
as clique as it is, the title runs true. Perhaps its my third home, perhaps it's just the beginning of a stream of places where I can feel home that will lead me to the conclusion ultimately that we are all just creatures in the same world but regardless, leaving is not easy.
I am such a mess of mixed emotion right now. I can't wait to get home and be with what was once so normal but I fear that it will all feel strange. What will I do when I can't describe my experiences in English, or worse, if no one cares? What's going to happen as I start losing contact with my friends here and I realize that I'll never ever see them again? What about the materialism that I won't be able to escape in the States but that doesn't exist here? This is all very odd. I have a feeling I'll be crying at both ends of the flights for different reasons. oh man. Te quiero Argentina-- don't cry for me!
as clique as it is, the title runs true. Perhaps its my third home, perhaps it's just the beginning of a stream of places where I can feel home that will lead me to the conclusion ultimately that we are all just creatures in the same world but regardless, leaving is not easy.
I am such a mess of mixed emotion right now. I can't wait to get home and be with what was once so normal but I fear that it will all feel strange. What will I do when I can't describe my experiences in English, or worse, if no one cares? What's going to happen as I start losing contact with my friends here and I realize that I'll never ever see them again? What about the materialism that I won't be able to escape in the States but that doesn't exist here? This is all very odd. I have a feeling I'll be crying at both ends of the flights for different reasons. oh man. Te quiero Argentina-- don't cry for me!
Tuesday, May 6, 2008
I should have been a cowgirl.... not really.
This weekend I discovered that no matter how much I long to be a cowgirl, it’s just not happening. The “great” outdoors is fantastic but I’m learning rather quickly that I am a city girl at heart.
This weekend, I spent three days on top of a horse in the mountains. The first two days were just great but by day three I was longing for my bed and stable ground.
A horseback trail ride in Spanish is called a cabalgata. The company through which I take riding lessons offers weekend one-day cabalgatas frequently, and as we had a holiday on Thursday (Labor Day), they decided to offer a three-day excursion. We piled into trucks (one which carried a horse in its trailer), and headed to the mountains. We had to drive for about two hours, the last of which was on a dirt road, before we ended up in a little town called Cumbrecita. This was Wednesday night. We spent the night in an amazing hostel (there was HEATING and I only shared the bathroom with one other person! That’s better than my house!). In all, we were 17—three American students, 1 guide and his son that lived in the mountains, and 12 Argentine adults who pretty much knew what they were doing on top of a horse and had been doing these cabalgatas for years. In the morning we had breakfast (homemade bread, homemade marmalade and mate, every day), then picked our horses and we off. I realized that I had made a bad choice almost immediately. When we had to cross a little bridge less than five minutes after leaving, my horse went wild and ran directly to the river. Inevitably, I was freaking out and pulling on the reigns, which only pissed the horse off more and made him start tossing his head and probably start cussing as much as I was. Anyway, everyone was yelling at me to “Dejele tomar!” (Let him drink!), so I gave in and sat there contemplating whether I would lose my money if I turned around and walked home on my own two feet.
So eventually we were off! Little did I know, the land that we were exploring was covered with rocks and narrow passages. I learned quickly. The views were amazing, as we continued climbing, climbing up rock after rock. Luckily, steep, winding trails meant that we didn’t have to trot or gallop. One comedian in the group wore out the phrase “VAMOS TROPAS” (Let’s go troops!”) very very quickly. He continued relentlessly to belly it out for the entire three days and eventually we were all yelling “SHUT UP!” whenever he started carrying on. Anyway, approaching the tops of mountains we would occasionally hit a patch of plain grass, on which we would completely abandon the trails and take off trotting. I’m pretty sure we paved our own way without a clue for where we were heading for the majority of that first day.
Lunchtime came and we stopped at the first sign of civilization that we had encountered all weekend. A little house sat in the middle of the plains and as we tied our horses to trees, we were met with quite the pleasant surprise. Snow began to lightly fall. Then it picked up and we were basically in the middle of a mini-blizzard. For a Southern girl, I thought the world had ended and we had entered some twilight zone. We were all ecstatic, and those who had a signal were on their cell phones telling the whole world. We took refuge in the little dining room and were served an amazing asado and proceeded to drink more wine than we should have been considering we’d have to mount horses in a bit. Someone pulled out a flask of whiskey and I became confused as to whether I was in an old Western or a study abroad program. The snow tapered off right as we finished our dulce and cheese desert. We loaded up the troops again and fortunately found that the precip had not stuck much, so we were off again. We rode through the afternoon until we approached the next stop, the guide’s home. His mom was incredible and met us with hot coffee and warm homemade bread. Some of us walked to the nearby SCHOOL, which houses 70+ kids for three weeks a month between September and May. The kids weren’t there when we went but the director and some teachers were, and they gave us a little tour. The place runs on solar power. In the middle of the mountains, in the middle of nowhere Latin America, there is this progressive green movement. The school hosts local kids ages 5-18 and prepares them for technical or agricultural careers. Everything is amazingly organized and some of the adults were commenting that it was much better run than many schools in Córdoba. We said our thanks and headed back over the treacherous rocks as the sun was going down to go to the house/refuge. On the way down was a herd of sheep and a caged pig. Dinner?
It turns out that dinner was actually goat, I think, and chicken. We had another asado but the whole time in the mountains I had no idea what kind of meat I was eating. I bought a goat skin in the morning, so I think that’s maybe what we were cooking. After dinner, we continued the lunch tradition and drank some wine and Fernet, trying to reduce the weight of our saddle bags in the morning. This led to a big dance. We turned up the music and moved the dinner table to make room to dance Corteto and some other dance that is unique to Argentina but that I can never remember the name of. Corteto is by far the most fun dance I have ever experienced. It consists of a series of twirls and silly hand movements, and the music just makes you move your body. I love it. Check out the Mona if you get a chance. They are the most-famous cuarteto band from Córdoba, and they have created lyrics for each one of the neighborhoods in the city. After that, they went on to create rhythms for each region and province of Argentina. I think they might have gotten big enough to do the same for various Latin American countries. Okay, enough of the history lesson. The brother of our guide was a dance instructor and taught me this other dance that I can’t remember the name of. Cumbra I think. It was a little different but fun none-the-less. The entire night left us stripping off our layers and made us nice and warm to sleep in the non-heated home. Luckily, the family was awesome, and each bed had a ton of covers so I slept very well.
The next day was more of the same. After about three hours of riding, we had geiso of noodles for lunch (delicious!) in a tiny home in the mountains then continued riding for about five hours that afternoon until we reached the next refuge. The owner was a drunk, and we discovered that we would be sleeping 14 in one room. The beds were like bunks BUT four across for three levels. They told me I was too big to sleep on the top layer because whenever someone got on it, it noticeably sunk in. So I slept on the side nearest the window. And when I say “slept,” I mean I worked on getting frostbite. I wore two pairs of pants, two pairs of socks, a tee shirt, sweater, sweatshirt, and ski coat to bed with one single blanket and shivered the entire night. For some reason, my toes were absolutely freezing and in the morning I could barely feel them. I might have actually slept for 30 minutes total. This left me very cranky for the day. My crazy horse didn’t help matters. So I spent the last day climbing Mount Champaqui, which is known as a place for hiking and mountain biking, very unhappily. We ran into pack mules, packed with saddle bags and running much faster than our own horses, “huge four by fours” (regular Jeeps), and bikers. We rode for a ridiculous amount of time, and I wanted to kill my horse as we climbed really steep passes of rock, and he wanted to pass everyone without stopping when I pulled back. When we had to pass through a gate and I tried to lean down and open it, he kept walking through, getting us both stuck between the gate and the fence. I hit it hard enough to make the poor thing go off galloping through a pasture. You can imagine for yourselves what this must have looked like. Eventually, I traded horses with the retard little one and it was much better. We descended into some pine forest, and I thought I was in Seashore State Park in Virginia. After stopping for a bit to eat, we rode for about two more hours to the base from which we started. I wound up sleeping for twelve hours that night and then twelve again the consecutive.
So that was my weekend. Seven weeks left here. For me, it’s an odd amount of time—it’s so much and so little at the same time. About 50 more nights without heat. But only 6 or 7 more asados?!
This weekend, I spent three days on top of a horse in the mountains. The first two days were just great but by day three I was longing for my bed and stable ground.
A horseback trail ride in Spanish is called a cabalgata. The company through which I take riding lessons offers weekend one-day cabalgatas frequently, and as we had a holiday on Thursday (Labor Day), they decided to offer a three-day excursion. We piled into trucks (one which carried a horse in its trailer), and headed to the mountains. We had to drive for about two hours, the last of which was on a dirt road, before we ended up in a little town called Cumbrecita. This was Wednesday night. We spent the night in an amazing hostel (there was HEATING and I only shared the bathroom with one other person! That’s better than my house!). In all, we were 17—three American students, 1 guide and his son that lived in the mountains, and 12 Argentine adults who pretty much knew what they were doing on top of a horse and had been doing these cabalgatas for years. In the morning we had breakfast (homemade bread, homemade marmalade and mate, every day), then picked our horses and we off. I realized that I had made a bad choice almost immediately. When we had to cross a little bridge less than five minutes after leaving, my horse went wild and ran directly to the river. Inevitably, I was freaking out and pulling on the reigns, which only pissed the horse off more and made him start tossing his head and probably start cussing as much as I was. Anyway, everyone was yelling at me to “Dejele tomar!” (Let him drink!), so I gave in and sat there contemplating whether I would lose my money if I turned around and walked home on my own two feet.
So eventually we were off! Little did I know, the land that we were exploring was covered with rocks and narrow passages. I learned quickly. The views were amazing, as we continued climbing, climbing up rock after rock. Luckily, steep, winding trails meant that we didn’t have to trot or gallop. One comedian in the group wore out the phrase “VAMOS TROPAS” (Let’s go troops!”) very very quickly. He continued relentlessly to belly it out for the entire three days and eventually we were all yelling “SHUT UP!” whenever he started carrying on. Anyway, approaching the tops of mountains we would occasionally hit a patch of plain grass, on which we would completely abandon the trails and take off trotting. I’m pretty sure we paved our own way without a clue for where we were heading for the majority of that first day.
Lunchtime came and we stopped at the first sign of civilization that we had encountered all weekend. A little house sat in the middle of the plains and as we tied our horses to trees, we were met with quite the pleasant surprise. Snow began to lightly fall. Then it picked up and we were basically in the middle of a mini-blizzard. For a Southern girl, I thought the world had ended and we had entered some twilight zone. We were all ecstatic, and those who had a signal were on their cell phones telling the whole world. We took refuge in the little dining room and were served an amazing asado and proceeded to drink more wine than we should have been considering we’d have to mount horses in a bit. Someone pulled out a flask of whiskey and I became confused as to whether I was in an old Western or a study abroad program. The snow tapered off right as we finished our dulce and cheese desert. We loaded up the troops again and fortunately found that the precip had not stuck much, so we were off again. We rode through the afternoon until we approached the next stop, the guide’s home. His mom was incredible and met us with hot coffee and warm homemade bread. Some of us walked to the nearby SCHOOL, which houses 70+ kids for three weeks a month between September and May. The kids weren’t there when we went but the director and some teachers were, and they gave us a little tour. The place runs on solar power. In the middle of the mountains, in the middle of nowhere Latin America, there is this progressive green movement. The school hosts local kids ages 5-18 and prepares them for technical or agricultural careers. Everything is amazingly organized and some of the adults were commenting that it was much better run than many schools in Córdoba. We said our thanks and headed back over the treacherous rocks as the sun was going down to go to the house/refuge. On the way down was a herd of sheep and a caged pig. Dinner?
It turns out that dinner was actually goat, I think, and chicken. We had another asado but the whole time in the mountains I had no idea what kind of meat I was eating. I bought a goat skin in the morning, so I think that’s maybe what we were cooking. After dinner, we continued the lunch tradition and drank some wine and Fernet, trying to reduce the weight of our saddle bags in the morning. This led to a big dance. We turned up the music and moved the dinner table to make room to dance Corteto and some other dance that is unique to Argentina but that I can never remember the name of. Corteto is by far the most fun dance I have ever experienced. It consists of a series of twirls and silly hand movements, and the music just makes you move your body. I love it. Check out the Mona if you get a chance. They are the most-famous cuarteto band from Córdoba, and they have created lyrics for each one of the neighborhoods in the city. After that, they went on to create rhythms for each region and province of Argentina. I think they might have gotten big enough to do the same for various Latin American countries. Okay, enough of the history lesson. The brother of our guide was a dance instructor and taught me this other dance that I can’t remember the name of. Cumbra I think. It was a little different but fun none-the-less. The entire night left us stripping off our layers and made us nice and warm to sleep in the non-heated home. Luckily, the family was awesome, and each bed had a ton of covers so I slept very well.
The next day was more of the same. After about three hours of riding, we had geiso of noodles for lunch (delicious!) in a tiny home in the mountains then continued riding for about five hours that afternoon until we reached the next refuge. The owner was a drunk, and we discovered that we would be sleeping 14 in one room. The beds were like bunks BUT four across for three levels. They told me I was too big to sleep on the top layer because whenever someone got on it, it noticeably sunk in. So I slept on the side nearest the window. And when I say “slept,” I mean I worked on getting frostbite. I wore two pairs of pants, two pairs of socks, a tee shirt, sweater, sweatshirt, and ski coat to bed with one single blanket and shivered the entire night. For some reason, my toes were absolutely freezing and in the morning I could barely feel them. I might have actually slept for 30 minutes total. This left me very cranky for the day. My crazy horse didn’t help matters. So I spent the last day climbing Mount Champaqui, which is known as a place for hiking and mountain biking, very unhappily. We ran into pack mules, packed with saddle bags and running much faster than our own horses, “huge four by fours” (regular Jeeps), and bikers. We rode for a ridiculous amount of time, and I wanted to kill my horse as we climbed really steep passes of rock, and he wanted to pass everyone without stopping when I pulled back. When we had to pass through a gate and I tried to lean down and open it, he kept walking through, getting us both stuck between the gate and the fence. I hit it hard enough to make the poor thing go off galloping through a pasture. You can imagine for yourselves what this must have looked like. Eventually, I traded horses with the retard little one and it was much better. We descended into some pine forest, and I thought I was in Seashore State Park in Virginia. After stopping for a bit to eat, we rode for about two more hours to the base from which we started. I wound up sleeping for twelve hours that night and then twelve again the consecutive.
So that was my weekend. Seven weeks left here. For me, it’s an odd amount of time—it’s so much and so little at the same time. About 50 more nights without heat. But only 6 or 7 more asados?!
Monday, April 21, 2008
Buenos Aires and cold weather
So I guess maybe it’s time for an update…
Things are swell down in Argentina, if a little cold. Winter’s approaching, and I’m not a fan. I went to Buenos Aires last weekend and when we got back into Cordoba and stepped off the plane, I was ready to shoot myself it was so cold. It actually got down to 3 degrees C, but what I didn’t realize or plan on was being colder inside my house than outside. Nope, we don’t have heat. So I spent a few nights this week sleeping in sweatpants, long-sleeved shirts with sweatshirts and socks. Plus two blankets. I feel ungrateful for complaining but really now. Oh well, I will survive it.
As for Buenos Aires, I love it. I am ready to move there. I’m glad that I’m studying in Cordoba because it’s smaller and more culture/language immersion BUT I would love to spend a couple of weeks in BA. We went on a city tour, a province tour, saw the stadium for a big-time soccer team (BOCA JUNIOR!), went to a tango show, and shopped at a huge artisan fair.
Highlights:
-Team Paula is not fun. Our first tour guide gave us all stickers that said Team Paula and continuously made cheesy jokes about her Japanese decent. She wouldn’t let us use the bathroom on the bus nor at any of the five stops we made in the four-hour-long tour that we had to rush to immediately after getting into BsAs after 12 hours on a bus.
-We watched some movie where Ashton Kutcher gets engaged to a black girl and has to meet her family. Spanish translations and dubbings of “Oh I know you didn’t” and “I’m gonna beat yo ass” are NOT equivalent to their English counterparts.
-Picking out your own meat from a huge selection of asado straight from the grill at a restaurant is one of the most amazing ideas I’ve seen here. The guys grilling were so nice and told us all of the names of the cow parts. I don’t think I’ve mentioned this yet but the intestines are actually delicious, though a little chewy. We don’t ask about what’s inside of them.
-Going out in BA is an experience. First, our cabby dropped us off like 10 blocks from where we needed to go. I told him that we were German and tried to put on a German accent for the entire ride, and that was interesting. I proceeded to wear heels for 13 hours straight that night, eventually making it back to the hotel at 6:30 am for an 8:15 wake-up call. Also not a good idea when you have no time to nap the next day. My feet still hurt.
-Tango shows are incredible, even if the food served is still cold. The show we went to was so much fun. It was in this little corner restaurant and there was dancing, singing, acting, harp-playing. We loved it.
-International film festivals in BA tend to get filled up. Running late, as ALWAYS, we got to this film that my film professor had wanted us to go to that was outside but all of the seats were taken and we had to stand on the sides crammed together. Nevertheless, the movie was good. It was interesting to hear and see a mix of Spanish, English, and Italian. Somehow, I followed.
-Big artisan fairs are NEAT! Haha we have a street for selling artwork here (where my family works) but this was HUGE. There was entertainment (tango dancers, statues that came to life upon tipping them, magicians, etc) plus amazing artwork, clothing, knick-knacks, etc. The diversity on those streets was incredible—we definitely spotted some fellow Americans.
-Airports are much more lax in South America. Security wasn’t a joke but it really wasn’t all that big of a deal, and no one’s luggage got lost.
Tuesday, March 25, 2008
This entry suffers from lengthiness
Causes for update: Mendoza & Semana Santa.
It started on Wednesday. My increasingly routine school day began like any other—toast with homemade jam and instant coffee. I ran up to school via my super-cool rattling bike to meet with my professor from Clemson about classes, dismayed at my wasted bike-induced transpiration when she asked me to come back in the afternoon and thus turned around and rode home in time for almuerzo. I ate. My host mom made me a cake because I was leaving. I love this woman. I packed some and headed back to plan my schedule for next fall (!) and to attend my one obligation of the day—a charla (chat/panel) on human rights. It was hard to follow but interesting to note that the tour guide from the day anterior, the one who was a desaparecido, spoke. Anyway. I then headed to DINO! Dino is a “supermarket” but oh so much more than that. It is actually a shopping mall with a little baby amusement park out front, a movie theater, and fresh groceries! I should run their ad campaign because I am in love with it. Anyway, I went with the two guys I would be traveling with and we got yummy fruit and miscellaneous items and this glorious slice of heaven is walking distance from my house so I headed home where fresh-made cheese rolls were waiting. Yep. My older “sister” had made a ton of these balls that are stuffed with cheese and pretty much incredible. I hung around for a couple of hours and then it was time to head to the bus terminal downtown. I made it there with my entirely too-large bag and was pretty awed. This place is a small (relative to real) airport, essentially. Larger than GSP, there were a ton of companies with their appropriate busses and excursions all over the country. Tickets are reasonable, especially if you are going somewhere close (The next town over is $AR 5 to ride!). At 23:00 we loaded our cochecama bus. Cochecama= the company’s best attempt at putting beds in a bus. The seats leaned back pretty far and there was a platform that folded out for your feet. I felt awkward leaning into the people behind me but my guy friends in front of me had no trouble fully extending. We met some boys from San Diego on the bus and were very pleased to be re-introduced to our native tongue. What was even better were the 80s music videos we got to listen to for the beginning of the ride. They had all the classic American artists, and I’m pretty sure I kept just about everyone awake with my amazing voice. I slept on and off until we got to Mendoza (stopping first in San Luis) at around 11 a.m. We had an hour to find our hostel and check in. We saved our money for a taxi and walked through the city to our address. My bags were heavy and it was kind of far but the city was awesome.
Mendoza is definitely my favourite place to have visited thus far. It has a central plaza with four smaller plazas at its corners. In between there are pedestrian walk-ways with shops and restaurants and travel agents. There were people playing music in the streets and everything was very clean. When we arrived at our hostel the receptionist didn’t seem to recognize the name with which we had put down a deposit and we waited half-expectant of being rejected and sleeping on the nice park benches. However, he found beds for us. The three girls stayed in a dorm of 10 beds and the boys next door in a similar set-up (We were supposed to have two rooms of two and three beds but we didn’t let it bother us). When we walked into the room the girls that had already staked the place stared us down. Apparently they were supposed to have their own room too. They were snobby Americans but we dealt. Five of them and three of us made eight, with two extra beds. Well, two more girls showed up together. And another girl. And then a guy. The total was either 12 or 13 for the 10 beds at one point but somehow we lost some people and ended up with 10. It was a mess but each night cost us $10, and there was a pool and a kitchen! So the first day we just hung out, ate, made salad and chicken for dinner and planned a trip for the next day… to go rafting!
We decided on the all-day rafting trip rather than the dinky hour-and-a-half one. It was awesome. They picked us up at the hostel in a van and took us to the mountains where rapids were formed by water flowing from melting ice at the tops of the Andes!! We rafted for four hours, with a long break in the middle. During the break we got to stop at an abandoned train station (the trains here no longer run unfortunately due to some kind of government mess). Anyway, the guides laid out a spread of fresh fruit and sandwich bread and lunch meat (they love salami here and it is sooo much better than the states) and of course a bit of Mendozian wine. It was an incredible lunch and we all looked very funny and extraterrestrial wandering about this ghost town in black wetsuits. We got to raft with two or three Australians, a Finnish man, some guys from Buenos Aires and a girl from Germany I think. We had the Finnish in our boat so our tour guide guided us in English. It was absolutely amazing. Our guide was really fun, guiding us onto a large rock so that we did a turn thing and almost sending one of our big macho outdoorsy boys into the water. No one in our boat fell in but two people in another one did—one was the guide!!! It was soo funny to watch him run along the shore to catch up. I heard that one of the guys in the boat threw him in—they were pretty rowdy. Regardless, I was way less scared than I imagined I would be and I can’t wait to raft again.
That night, needless to say, we were exhausted. We met up with the guys from Buenos Aires for pizza (Argentine pizza often has ham and big tomatoes and eggs on it) and then hit up the ice cream shop. They had wine flavoured ice cream. I couldn’t make it up. I returned to the chaos of my room and passed out. The next morning we hit up the bodegas (wineries). We were planning on doing the bike tour for four hours but by the time everyone got up and got together and we went to buy groceries and catch a bus, it wasn’t worth it. Not to mention we couldn’t find the place to rent the bikes. It had amazing ads in the city but was hidden in a small store at the actual location. Odd. Regardless, we walked from the bus stop to the first stop of the “tour,” which was actually a wine museum. We ate an amazing lunch that we had brought—two loaves of bread, apples, pear, two packs of cheese, two packs of salami, and cookies… for only five people. We were very hungry and ate just about everything except for one slice of salami, which we attempted to feed to one of many stray dogs wandering around. The second stop that we walked to was labeled “liquors, chocolates y dulces (sweets).” We liked the sound of that. Worth noting: They blasted Norah Jones when we walked in and a guide was like “I love her!” We got to see all of the liquors that they make and then we each got to try a shot. These liquors included chocolate, dulce de leche, mandarin, and Absinth (guess which one I tried). We also got chocolate samples. I think I might move to this place.
After catching the bus home and tired once again we wound up going to a Mexican restaurant with a friend we had met from France (and who was studying in English/ currently attends school in Buenos Aires). The Buenos Aires guys met up with us afterwards and we walked around the central plaza, which was full of people and fun things like magic shows. I got ice cream again. Tiramisu flavor is amazing PS.
Next morning: check out and back to the terminal. Our bus left at 10pm so we bought tickets to catch a bus to the mountains. Great decision. We arrived at this little town on the river that boasts a thermal spa and water park as well as amazing mountains. We ate some empanadas (yum!) and headed out to find ourselves a hiking path. (Who needs guides??) The guys we were with are very outdoorsy Southern men, so they were in Heaven. I must say I was too. We walked around some more abandoned railroad tracks then trekked up to a big Virgen figurine, from which we continued up a mountain for quite a while. It was beautiful. One of the girls in the group has arthritis so she stopped for a bit and we didn’t want to leave her so we didn’t quite get to the top but VERY close. We didn’t realize how far we had gone until we looked up and the cima was all of a sudden right there. We were all very giddy, and getting down was an adventure—you have no idea how steep something is until you try going DOWN. Haha. But we made it and spent the rest of the time checking out local artisan goods and wines until we hitched a bus back to the terminal and then another to Córdoba. I slept the entire way, even missing breakfast!! We got into Córdoba at around 8 and I walked into my house just after 9, after which I immediately showered and drank a coffee. I didn’t mean to but managed to sleep more—from 11 to 1. Pathetic. It was now Monday. We had classes off because of a national holiday of remembrance so I headed back into the central at around 5:30 to watch the historical march at 6. It was incredible. I am so glad I went. There were tons of blocks of people lined up—in the front are the grandparents of the desaparecidos, behind them the parents and behind them children—each had their signs with photos of their loved ones that they haven’t seen since the 70s and don’t know where are. After this group were independents, then political groups with their own flags and often chants, drums, etc. It was awesome. We stood and watched til the end and then walked back up to the front after which we went to eat a mereanda (the third meal, before dinner here) at an outdoor café. After this, which must have lasted about an hour, we walked back and the march was still going on! It was really moving. During the day they dropped 30,000 different poems from planes that mark the 30,000 desaparecidos. I picked up a few and took a bunch of photos.
Today marked the return to school—pretty uneventful. One thing that sticks out is how slack all the teachers are being—for me, it’s way different from the States—each professor was like “well I know that yall probably had long weekends, traveling and such, so I’m going to give you less work.” It’s just the opposite in the US, where a break often means more time to get work done. The mindset with regards to rest and free time is so distinct from our culture. My host mom takes a nap every afternoon but then we spend two hours at the dinner table. It seems as if there is never time to get work done but it’s as if the expectations aren’t as high just because we are all expected to take in our time with host families and Argentine friends—if we walk into class late because we were chatting with another professor, no worries. If we can’t get work done because we don’t understand it or don’t have time, the professor will give us an extension in class or postpone in without an email or office hour visit. When I go home on the bus at lunch time, it is packed with school children riding home to spend a couple of hours at home with their families, and my dad doesn’t leave for work until around 10 and comes back at 1 for lunch! I’m afraid I’m getting a little too used to this style of life—tonight I’m going out to a movie at 10 and who knows what afterwards. And it’s a Tuesday.
Only other news: I think I’m going trekking in Carlos Paz this weekend for a day. It’s 5 pesos to take the bus. I’ve decided that I need to travel as much as possible while I’m still here. In two weeks we head to Buenos Aires as a Clemson group. Hooray for dirty cities and pretty operas!
If anyone made it to the end of this post, I’m very proud, and I will give you a sticker when I return.
Wednesday, March 19, 2008
Nunca Mas
So, I’ve been here for over a month and a half. I’m going home in three. This is all very incredible to me. I have already learned so much—language, culture, politics, history—that I can’t believe I didn’t know any of this stuff before. How could I have missed the whole Menem era and the desaparecidos?? How had I never had mate before? Why am I so dependent on the Internet on the States and why don’t I walk more?? Also, how is it possible that I thought I knew any Spanish before I got here?
In other news, I went to a historical museum in Centro today and it was one of the most interesting and moving excursions of my life. This week is Human Rights Week here in Argentina—it’s a big deal. Monday is a national holiday to celebrate human rights and there will be a big march through the city by organizations as well as general public. I might try to participate or at least go check out some of the events on Monday. Anyway, back to my museum. It is directly next to the Cabildo and Catedral, which are really important historical symbols to the city. Well this museum is dedicated to human rights because it is the location of where the government detained the desaparacidos and tortured them. People were yanked from their houses in the middle of the night—our tour guide was going home from work at around 8 to his full house of 15 family members when the police captured him—and then blindfolded and taken to this building, stripped of all their belongings and tortured in various ways. These were just common people who had some affiliation with a leftist but often through a long-removed niece or something. The first wave of prisoners were leftists; they were followed by close family members—women and children included—and then by any coworkers, more distant relatives, etc. Only 5% of the population was leftist but hoy en dia everyone here can name someone they know who was imprisoned like this. It was eerie to walk the halls and try not to imagine the heinous crimes against humanity done here. We read a banned children’s book and saw a wall of photos of perfectly normal human beings who are still considered missing. No one knew where people went when they disappeared and if they never came back, where they were killed or their bodies were sent. Sometimes people would just be pulled from their homes just to show back up at work some time later. No one questioned where they went or said anything when they returned. It was just a fact of life… in the 70s. The fact that this was happening so recently—when my parents were my age—makes it seem unreal, impossible. I guess that’s how future foreign exchange students will view what’s going on in the Middle East in another few decades. I’m just floored. The number of banned books due to fear of liberty and free expression was shocking. Not to mention the fact that this happened to the precious man guiding our tour. Tomorrow he is speaking at my University at a panel that I am going to.
I digress back to my little material life.
Tomorrow at 11pm starts my Semana Santa! That means vacation! Yay. I had tried to make it to Bariloche in Patagonia or to the Iguazu Falls that border Brazil but both of those trips are 23 hours both ways in a bus and expensive, and I only have 5 days. Plus, Semana Santa is a HUGE holiday here, so these places are going to be packed full and we couldn’t find any accommodations. Nevertheless, I leave at 11pm on a bus (with beds!) to Mendoza. MMM Wine country. I hope to go rafting and do winery tours. If nothing else, we are staying in a hostel in the center of their Centro so we are going to have access to all transportation and good food and such. I’m very excited. School is becoming a drag. Last night I went out (it was St. Patty’s Day) to play pool and such but came home early—2 or 2:30 so that I could wake up and write an essay. So, I awaken at 7 and spend all morning looking up words of architectural terminology and once again visiting the theme of the damn Jesuits (we are all exhausted of them!), write this paper complete with bibliography and prepare a PowerPoint. Then go to school at 10 so that I will have time to print, do that, and spend more time revising my PP, just to go to class and have the professor tell us that she’s not collecting the assignment and instead wants us to do something different and more visual—now we have to draw or print out aspects and analyze them individually on colored paper. Ok well I don’t own colored paper or a printer and I can’t draw and everyone’s traveling this weekend and I JUST SPENT ALL MORNING ON YOUR PAPER. Oh well. I don’t follow half of what she babbles on about anyway. She’s never taught foreigners.
Anyway, this is how classes are going. Every day I crawl home with a headache from all the Spanish but it’s definitely improving. Plus, our professor from Clemson is here this week (the poor thing is spending her spring break running around trying to fix and set up every thing—I appreciate this woman so much) and so we are all very happy about that, letting her know about everything that is not working out, such as writing papers for no reason. Outside of school, things have settled into a comfortable routine—I no longer have trouble getting around, I am not afraid to talk to locals, the food is still good and I think that my body is finally beginning to get used to the eating schedule here.
Random note: last weekend I went to Mar Chiquita. I recommend the town but not the local museum—it’s four salas big with fossils and dead/stuffed animals. I walked out and went to watch the real natural science…outside. There were a bunch of flying flamingos. That was neat. Also, I don’t recommend touring abandoned Nazi hotels. They are just creepy.
I don’t really have much else to say except that I’m going to work on uploading pictures but it’s difficult due to limited Internet access. Also, GO TIGERS! Happy March Madness. I am sooo proud of my tigres for making it to the ACC finals, and I found a way to watch all tournament games online for free, so I just have to make sure that I have someplace to watch them. I don’t have much other commentary at the moment on collegiate basketball because I’m SO BEHIND! I can’t believe I just missed the second half of this entire season. When did that happen?!?! Closing note: How is it that we are a 5 seed and finished second in the ACC, beating out Duke and finishing behind a #1 seed, and we have to play Villanova in the first round?!! That’s silly. I guess we take what we can get and pull out the V regardless.
In other news, I went to a historical museum in Centro today and it was one of the most interesting and moving excursions of my life. This week is Human Rights Week here in Argentina—it’s a big deal. Monday is a national holiday to celebrate human rights and there will be a big march through the city by organizations as well as general public. I might try to participate or at least go check out some of the events on Monday. Anyway, back to my museum. It is directly next to the Cabildo and Catedral, which are really important historical symbols to the city. Well this museum is dedicated to human rights because it is the location of where the government detained the desaparacidos and tortured them. People were yanked from their houses in the middle of the night—our tour guide was going home from work at around 8 to his full house of 15 family members when the police captured him—and then blindfolded and taken to this building, stripped of all their belongings and tortured in various ways. These were just common people who had some affiliation with a leftist but often through a long-removed niece or something. The first wave of prisoners were leftists; they were followed by close family members—women and children included—and then by any coworkers, more distant relatives, etc. Only 5% of the population was leftist but hoy en dia everyone here can name someone they know who was imprisoned like this. It was eerie to walk the halls and try not to imagine the heinous crimes against humanity done here. We read a banned children’s book and saw a wall of photos of perfectly normal human beings who are still considered missing. No one knew where people went when they disappeared and if they never came back, where they were killed or their bodies were sent. Sometimes people would just be pulled from their homes just to show back up at work some time later. No one questioned where they went or said anything when they returned. It was just a fact of life… in the 70s. The fact that this was happening so recently—when my parents were my age—makes it seem unreal, impossible. I guess that’s how future foreign exchange students will view what’s going on in the Middle East in another few decades. I’m just floored. The number of banned books due to fear of liberty and free expression was shocking. Not to mention the fact that this happened to the precious man guiding our tour. Tomorrow he is speaking at my University at a panel that I am going to.
I digress back to my little material life.
Tomorrow at 11pm starts my Semana Santa! That means vacation! Yay. I had tried to make it to Bariloche in Patagonia or to the Iguazu Falls that border Brazil but both of those trips are 23 hours both ways in a bus and expensive, and I only have 5 days. Plus, Semana Santa is a HUGE holiday here, so these places are going to be packed full and we couldn’t find any accommodations. Nevertheless, I leave at 11pm on a bus (with beds!) to Mendoza. MMM Wine country. I hope to go rafting and do winery tours. If nothing else, we are staying in a hostel in the center of their Centro so we are going to have access to all transportation and good food and such. I’m very excited. School is becoming a drag. Last night I went out (it was St. Patty’s Day) to play pool and such but came home early—2 or 2:30 so that I could wake up and write an essay. So, I awaken at 7 and spend all morning looking up words of architectural terminology and once again visiting the theme of the damn Jesuits (we are all exhausted of them!), write this paper complete with bibliography and prepare a PowerPoint. Then go to school at 10 so that I will have time to print, do that, and spend more time revising my PP, just to go to class and have the professor tell us that she’s not collecting the assignment and instead wants us to do something different and more visual—now we have to draw or print out aspects and analyze them individually on colored paper. Ok well I don’t own colored paper or a printer and I can’t draw and everyone’s traveling this weekend and I JUST SPENT ALL MORNING ON YOUR PAPER. Oh well. I don’t follow half of what she babbles on about anyway. She’s never taught foreigners.
Anyway, this is how classes are going. Every day I crawl home with a headache from all the Spanish but it’s definitely improving. Plus, our professor from Clemson is here this week (the poor thing is spending her spring break running around trying to fix and set up every thing—I appreciate this woman so much) and so we are all very happy about that, letting her know about everything that is not working out, such as writing papers for no reason. Outside of school, things have settled into a comfortable routine—I no longer have trouble getting around, I am not afraid to talk to locals, the food is still good and I think that my body is finally beginning to get used to the eating schedule here.
Random note: last weekend I went to Mar Chiquita. I recommend the town but not the local museum—it’s four salas big with fossils and dead/stuffed animals. I walked out and went to watch the real natural science…outside. There were a bunch of flying flamingos. That was neat. Also, I don’t recommend touring abandoned Nazi hotels. They are just creepy.
I don’t really have much else to say except that I’m going to work on uploading pictures but it’s difficult due to limited Internet access. Also, GO TIGERS! Happy March Madness. I am sooo proud of my tigres for making it to the ACC finals, and I found a way to watch all tournament games online for free, so I just have to make sure that I have someplace to watch them. I don’t have much other commentary at the moment on collegiate basketball because I’m SO BEHIND! I can’t believe I just missed the second half of this entire season. When did that happen?!?! Closing note: How is it that we are a 5 seed and finished second in the ACC, beating out Duke and finishing behind a #1 seed, and we have to play Villanova in the first round?!! That’s silly. I guess we take what we can get and pull out the V regardless.
Saturday, March 8, 2008
Viaje al Noroeste
Lots of news. This one includes llamas and sheep and rainforests, so you don’t want to miss it.
Yes, last week we went to the Northeast. Google Salta, Tucuman, and Tafi de Valle if you wish. We left school at 9pm and traveled all night. We stopped at a gas station for dinner for 45 minutes. Meals here are never “grab and go,” even at gas stations. Afterwards, I managed to sleep off and on a little bit for 5 hours until we stopped to eat pastries and coffee on the bus near our destination at 7:00. I had been up for about an hour watching our bus weave around these hairpin turns going up the mountains. It was still dark but still incredible to watch. When we stopped, the sun was just beginning to come up and we were in front of a lake, with a little town twinkling on the other side. After stretching, admiring the view, and eating, we boarded the bus again and headed to a little town to go trekking! We spent the rest of the morning walking up this little mountain range thing, where we saw wild horses also climbing and had a view of the whole town. I decided on the location of my future home, where I’ll live with my horses while serving at a local little restaurant.
Lunch was at the bottom of the mountain in a hostel. So, when in the mountains of Argentina, you might expect indigenous-themed décor, or maybe cowboy-esque motifs. Something of this sort, right? Wrong. This hostel boasted drawings of Che and tie-dye. On the ceiling someone had painted “ONE LOVE,” and they played Bob Marley and other reggae the entire time that we were there. We ate empanadas and stew with flan for desert. Reluctantly, we had to reboard the bus to head to our own hostel in another town.
We stayed in a much more “typical Argentine” hostel. Firstly, the town was tiny. The hostel was situated on one of the sides of the plaza, which contained just about all that the town had to offer, other than the Museum of Pachimama. The hostel was fine—really nothing to report there, but the museum was interesting. Outside, there were all these architectural artifacts and inside was mostly indigenous paintings and information. The tour guide spoke very few words, quickly, and with a clipped accent. I understood next to nothing, but I’m pretty sure that the Cordobeses didn’t either. That night we ate dinner at the same restaurant that we would eat at for the rest of the weekend, save one meal. It was near the hostel, and we were served locra. Locra- n.- stew-like substance unique to rural Argentina consisting of corn, steak, potatoes, and 20 additional undistinguishable ingredients. This was the same stuff they served at Borratarán. So, it wasn’t that bad, but I couldn’t eat more than half of it. This stuff is made to fuel the back-roads workers and cowboys. “Corn fed” finally hits home—did someone say Nebraska?
Anyway, we were all exhausted and ready to sleep after our 2-hour meal. So I slept, fitfully, and woke up to board the bus once again. This time, we were headed for a winery! This place was really cool. The weather here is so perfect for wine production that the roads were lined for miles and miles with grape trees and bodegas, or production centers. We stopped at a very large one and got a tour concluding in a tasting. They produce this amazing sweet white wine that we all went ga-ga for.
From the bodega we went to the town of Salta for lunch and a visit. This place was awesome. Apparently that night was a local carnaval or festival, so there were a lot of people milling around all day. While sitting outside at a restaurant for lunch, much happened. First, across the street a truck pulled up, behind which they began unloading raw cow carcasses in front of a butcher shop. I didn’t eat my empanadas. Seriously, this was disgusting for me. One man would unload and another would sling this very fresh slab of cow back over his shoulder into the store. No one around was phased. I felt sick for the rest of the day. Secondly, on a lighter note, there was a very dark-skinned man out front on the patio playing this drum-like instrument. He was very good and the sound was almost Caribbean. Also notable, as we were eating, a handful of local venders came up to us with their products. One was selling coca leaves, like the same ones from which you make cocaine. This is the common remedy for altitude sickness—in the Andes, hikers carry it. You chew the leaves and swallow the saliva from it (SKOAL ring ring a bell?). The effect is similar to mate- it’s a stimulant. I didn’t try it.
But, after lunch, I did try a three-person bicycle! This was by-far the most amusing thing I have done in Argentina. My friend KC and I made our friend Juan drive, and as 30 min only cost 4 pesos (US $1.33) for all three of us, the bike was clearly a piece of shit. KC’s handle bars didn’t work, so she held onto me the whole time, and after a while we realized that the brakes were also broken. Thus, Juan would yell “PARE! PARE!” to stop, and the two of us would put our feet on the ground, puttering to an eventual stop. KC’s feet didn’t reach the ground, so she had to simply stop pedaling. We ran into a car once. Remember when I said there were a lot of people milling around? This was a problem when trying to navigate a three-seater through the streets. The whole endeavor was a catastrophe, but we all agree that it was well-worth the 4 pesos for the photos. The rest of the day was anti-climatic, save for one episode on the bus, which I describe later.
I bought a dulce de leche ice cream and then we headed back to the bus for the afternoon trip to the mountains. Different mountains this time. Rock formations and the Cerros de siete colores (hills of seven colors). We went via bus and made 5 stops to get out, walk around, explore, etc. The views were awesome, but all I can say is to look at the photos, because there’s not much to tell outside of them. Our tour guide did sing in this native style that is just amazing—I’ll try to upload a video.
We dropped the tour guide back off in Salta, and as we were on the bus, encountered a group of young drunk boys. It started off with some innocent heckling, but then this one guy—he couldn’t have been older than 14—started chasing our bus and dancing. At one point when we were stopped, he actually CLIMBED onto a parked truck next to our bus and pointed at one of the girls (Jessica Gentry!), for which she screamed and ran to the other side of the bus. It was hilarious, but maybe you had to be there.
One the way home, KC and I rocked out to old American songs, which amused pretty much the whole back half of the bus. That night we ate another stew at the restaurant near our hostel. Stew and bread and mayonnaise, siempre. I stayed up that night and taught the Argentine boys Bullshit Pyramid. One was very excited because he had seen the game Bullshit in How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days. That amused me. I was ready to go to sleep at 2, but two of the boys went to this local boliche, reporting the next day that they were offering a free beer to anyone who danced with one of the prostitutes in the middle of the floor… with adam’s apples. Apparently when walking home one of the boys (from Morrocco) got hissed at by prostitutes on the side of the road. Who knew?!
Sunday was another long day. We spent the morning at the Ruins of Quilmes- google the story of the Quilmes tribe—it’s really pretty fascinating. These people fought off the Spanish for 130 years. They lived in little houses built into the ground so that only about a meter was above ground. When they were finally defeated, the Spanish set to moving and separating them to different locations throughout Argentina. They took 2,000 on a path to Buenos Aires. 400 made it there, and most of them were then killed off by European disease once they got to Bs As. The tour guide was very knowledgeable and passionate about teaching the right education about these tribes. He said that he went to school 20 km from the ruins, and he didn’t learn the real story of the Quilmes. I was enlightened, I must say. Not to mention, there were tons of cactus. (the word is the same in Spanish and very fun to say!)
That afternoon, after ravioli at the same restaurant as before (yum!), we departed the NE. The ride home was absolutely amazing. That morning we had traveled through the winery country to get to the ruins in the desert, then continued to “normal mountains” (grassy). Well, that afternoon we went back through a forest. I’m not sure if it’s considered a “rain” or “tropical” forest, but it has the most trees of any forest in Arg, and it was spectacular. There was a river running at the bottom of the mountains, and I was just waiting for a monkey to jump out and mount our bus. We made hairpin turns all the way down the mountain, and at one point our bus had to stop (in traffic) and reverse, because it couldn’t make it around a turn. We were fearful.
Eventually, the land flattened out and we were in the “campo” for the rest of the journey. Here, at about 8pm, is where our bus broke down. We pulled over to the side of the road in the middle of nowhere, for 3 hours. Something got clogged somewhere in the engine, and we had to wait for a tool to clean it. There was a big puddle of gas or water or something under the bus at the back, and our chauffer thought it was funny to smoke a round of cigarettes directly over it. All of the girls who know nothing about automobiles were scared. (I am one of them.) Thus, we eventually made it home at 4 in the morning. Some people had class in the morning, but I didn’t have one until 2, so I was able to sleep some.
Since then (last Sunday—it is now Saturday), classes have started. “CRI” (Center for International Relations) classes that is. Our “UBP” (Argentine—university—classes) start this Monday. I really like a couple of them, but this one class is insane. It is called “Culture through Artistic Manifestations.” So I think that I would like my teacher as a person, but she talks sooo fast, and to the wall. She just puts up these slides of architecture and in rapid-fire Spanish spits out facts. We have a notebook that corresponds to her lectures, but she covered 60 pages of it the other day in an hour and a half! All of us just look at each other as if to say “did you get that? Nope? Good, me neither.” That class should be interesting. On the other hand, my film class is 3.5 hours long on Fridays only, and the professor speaks really slow, stopping the film every few minutes to ask if there was a word we didn’t understand. But I really like that class- we watched Motorcycle Diaries the other day. If you haven’t seen it, rent it!
I also had horseback riding yesterday in the morning. I thought I miiight die. I had to gallop, but I had no idea what I was doing, and my horse this week was crazy. If you barely touch him, he starts flying!! I would get really scared and try to stop him but he would just slow to a trot, at which point I would get flung to the front of the saddle and almost fall over the front of the horse. I’m exaggerating, of course, but regardless, it was scary. Next time, in two weeks, we finally go into the mountains, as long as the river goes down a bit more (we have to cross a river on horseback!!)
Last note—I went to a bar last night for a concert. The band is comprised of high-school age boys and made me reminiscent of those little high school bands we had in Va. But what really got me was that these boys played…. Red Hot Chili Peppers, among other American music. It was incredible. All of the Argentines in the bar (I didn’t go with any other international kids) were singing along with the wrong lyrics!!! It was so funny for me.
So, I haven’t heard from many of yall lately, so if anyone is reading this, and you are my friend, EMAIL me! I don’t get online all that much, but I love getting email updates from home, so let me know what everyone’s up to. I miss and love yall! BESOS!
Friday, February 22, 2008
Churipan
For all of my adoring fans who are just sitting at their computers, clicking the refresh button on this page and begging me to update (mostly just Amy), I am conceding. But I don’t have Internet, so you won’t get this until next week anyway.
This week’s episode is dedicated to what the hell was in the churipán?
So last weekend, we went to that folklore/Doma festival and tested the local/traditional cuisine. Our options were a stew-esque bled of corn and weird cow parts, and the other was this sausage thing called churipán. I, like any sane person, ate the churipán. It was delicious.
But now half of the students in the program are sick, calling the doctor to their house (for 5 pesos! Yippee!), and cursing the churipán. I am not one of them, but in the past couple of days my stomach has been aching, and it makes me wonder…
Anyway, life’s fallen into a bit of a routine now. I am actively a biker and still haven’t found cospeles, I still get giddy but without the gleam in my eyes when I see authentic gauchos, and I have become accustomed to the amazing food everywhere.
Tonight we have a fiesta to celebrate the end of our intensive course. I think that we try to have fiestas at any excuse. In reality, the course ends next Thursday with our final exams. Everyone’s pretty excited about the weekend- no excursions or essays (like the past two have been filled with)!! So I’ve got that going for me.
The other day at equitación (horseback riding), I jumped! I took the horse that I always have, that is lazy and incompetent and doesn’t like me, but after a couple of circles in the rink, the instructor had me switch to Negro. Negro is no joke. This thing is humongous, and I was scared shitless to mount him. Then, upon the first nudge/tap/encouragement, he took OFF. I was more scared. Eventually we were galloping, and that was nice. But then we had to jump. This horse is beautiful. We were definitely the best jumpers in the class. We were supposed to go into the sierras this week, during which we would cross a river, but the river was too high with all of this August rain we have been getting, so we have to delay it. I’m going to keep taking the class for the rest of the semester, and he said that we’ll start rotating between trails and practice work for the remainder of classes.
Speaking of classes, I registered for the semester today. I am very excited about my 20 hours: horseback riding, painting, history of Latin American thought, history of artistic manifestation, some music/portfolio thing where we make a radio program and TV clips of rock music, linguistics (words! Hooray!), some Argentine lit class, and, here’s the zinger: a graphic comm. Class! Ha! I beat the Clemson system. Ok here’s my beef—I can’t take but one or maybe two graphic communication classes at CU, because they are reserved to majors (I hate you all), but I am a writing and PUBLICATION studies major, thus I find it vital to my career to have expertise and an educational background in the wonderful art of design on puters. And I just really like to play with Photoshop and other Adobe products. So, I am taking a design class in the graphic comm. Program here that is large and popular, and I will be the only exchange kid, but I am excited.
Back to things unique to Argentina and South America and things like me making an ass of myself because my course schedule is not all that exciting…
WHAT IS GOING ON WITH THIS WEATHER? I AM SITTING ON MY BED AND ABOUT TO GET DRENCHED BECAUSE MY WINDOW WAS OPEN AND I WAS GOING TO GO RUNNING AT 8 AND ITS 7:30 BUT NOT ITS GOING TO POUR OMG WHY IS IT ALWAYS RAINING?!?!
Sorry. Where were we? Oh yeah, South America. It’s wet in February. I had another biking incident this week, riding to school, confident and cool and passing those silly walkers and almost getting trampled by those idiotic mopeds, basically on top of the world. I go to school and debate about politics or religion or gender roles—never one to be shy in the face of these issues and thus making an ass of myself trying to defend feminism in Spanish—and by the time class lets out, the ground is once again saturated with this stuff. This gruesome, ugly, hungry, angry, menacing, wet, stuff. And my bike was at school. And I didn’t own cospeles. And I only had big bills of pesos, which I don’t want to use in a taxi, and besides, I don’t want to leave the bike at school. SO. It’s not raining that hard. No, it’s really barely coming down now, I can make it. So I go, weaving between the taxis and busses and those silly pedestrians, to whom I am obviously now superior (they have ponchos and umbrellas! Ha! Who needs that crap? Not me- I am waterproof!)
It turns out that I’m not waterproof. I zip through puddles, splashing mud to my legs, I squint, I totter, I am overall very awkward. (torpe—our new favourite word, seeing as we have to take tango and such). Anyway, I finally made it home, in time for lunch, after changing and washing my feet. I napped all afternoon because I am just tired of the rain and the transportation.
What else…. Trip to the Noroeste next week (Northwest). We had a meeting, and we are going to leave Thursday night at 21:00 on a bus and drive 8 hours, breakfast, and for three days do some trekking (they actually use this term here, as well as “windsurf.” It’s great.) and visit some Indian things and a winery! I think that our group is jealous of those going to Buenos Aires, but I’m pretty excited- the mountains and canyon-esque things (they are NOT “canyons,” as they have a V and not a U!), are multi-colored and we are going to be in the most “authentic” Argentina (remind me to send this link to Jonathan Field) that there is. They informed us that we are not allowed to have any alcohol on the bus, not because they care about consumption, but because of the severity of the law with respect to bottles on busses. This place is so lax, in general, about everything. It’s very interesting to watch for instance the couples in my family show affection in front of their parents, their grandparents, etc.
Last night I went out. Two Argentines (tutors for our program) picked me up, and we went downtown to a Mexican restaurant to meet up with the others. At one point I looked around and realized that I was surrounded by: three Argentines, two New Yorkers, a Canadian, and Austrian, and a German. AND, the real feat is that I was the only Clemson kid! I mean go tigers but come on—why are there so many of us? Anyway, it was fun. I love the culture here (for the most part). At every bar we sit outside on a porch or whatever and everyone is just content to chat. Always. After meals it’s always the same. Chat chat chat. And sleep. I just took a 2,5-hour nap (4-6.30), and now I’m tired again (it’s 8.00), so I might go back to sleep for a bit. Either that or have a café as my mid-afternoon snack!
23/02
I’m not sure what could top last night. So it began when some of the Argentine boys picked me up at 11 and removed the responsibility of me having to endure the public transportation system. Then we went to the bar that our fiesta was at. It was awesome. The outdoor patio was cute but inside was way better. Everything was decorated in red and white—these big white chairs with deep red pool tables all over the place—probably 25 pool tables in all. Sidenote: the pizza here is off the chain. At around 3, our group began to disperse- some took taxis home but I was determined to have a real Argentine night out so I went with some of the kids downtown. We were going to go to a bar first and then a boliche but I think there was room at the bar or it was closing or something so we went straight to dance. This boliche was also awesome- much better than the last one, which had loud electronica music and a ton of 14-year-olds. This place was more of a mix between a bar and a dance club. It was very relaxed and they played American hits from the 80s and 90s. We were so obnoxious, belting out the words. I really love to watch Argentine bartenders doing the YMCA at work. The DJ was awesome and before I knew it, it was around 6:30… a.m. Thus, we headed out, encountering tons of peers still out, many eating these sandwiches that are popular late at night. Clemson kids started looking for a Waffle House, but what we found was way better. We all (about 10-12 of us at this point) met at this panaderia—a bakery. Let’s just say I really like bakeries. I devoured two pastries and drank some coffee so that I could stay awake for the ride home. It was evident who the locals were—literally every single American had bloodshot eyes and shit-eatin grins at the table. I walked in my door with the sun coming up to my back at 7:30, hoping my host parents weren’t already up (they weren’t) and tip-toed up the rickety staircase to my room and slept til noon.
Random notes: I suck at billiards, and I’m pretty sure I always will. The translation of “well-played” is used instead of “well done” in many cases, and trying to explain our use of “well-played” is not an easy task. Quilmes boc is the best dark beer on the market, in my opinion. I met a girl from Greenville who goes to Winthrop and is going into her second semester of classes in Argentina, thus cutting the size of the world in half, at least, considering we probably passed each other in the mall in South Carolina just two months ago. I also for the life of me can’t roll Rs. I have received more lessons than the number of surgeries Michael Jackson has had, and I still try to do it through my throat. But the determined shall succeed, and I am determined as hell. Café con leche (half coffee, half milk) is way better than black instant coffee from a jar. Argentines dance better than silly North Americans. And, the song from The Hills is played in interior South American dance clubs at 5 in the morning (“Feel the rain on your skin, no one else can do it for you, etc”).
Tuesday, February 19, 2008
I should be in the X games.
Everyday is an adventure. It’s more than just a mantra at this point; it’s incredibly too real. Ok so first of all, I begin each day thanking Dios that I have not (yet) been run over by a car … or a moped… or a bike. With pride, I have now become one of the many bikers that used to try to run me over when I was a walker. Ask and you shall receive. So I asked to use one of our bikes, and the next day (Monday), I was off, feeling pretty on top of the world about leaving super early to rewrite a draft before class started. On that bike, I soared. This was a new level of confidence, passing pedestrians, driving OVER water puddles rather than looking to cross over still-employed train tracks to over them. I zoomed, I whizzed, etc.
So I got to school super early. It was humid outside. So much for looking anyhow better for having ridden the bike rather than walking. I was dying of heat. But that’s ok; I had 45 minutes. I rewrote my draft, and as I was packing up to walk to the classroom, it began to drizzle. Oh wait, there is no such thing as drizzle here (one word I won’t have to learn the cordobese version of). It began POURING. So I moved my bike to under a shelter and sulked into class, which I endured for three hours, all spent in daydreams that the rain would stop. However it continued to pick up, pick up, pick up, pelleting the building, producing blue streaks and scaring the crap out of all of us. Well, I could ride the bus. Except that I have no tokens left, they aren’t selling them anywhere (because the price goes up in March and thus everywhere, EVERYWHERE, the places that they tell you to buy from in bulk, are sold out), and if I borrowed one I would have to get my bike back somehow. Ok so maybe it wasn’t raining that hard, and I needed to get back for almuerzo and siesta time. So I took off, and within 10 feet I had dirt splattered all over me. My friends reached for their cameras as I peddled by, and I’m pretty sure the whistles and blown kisses I got on the way home were sarcastic. I showed up at my front door wanting nothing but to not be seen and take a hot shower, but luckily both host parents were waiting for me to eat. Thus was my Monday.
Rewind, because it’s been a while: Last week, was a boring week, but a full week. We visited the second-oldest church in Argentina, and the first Jesuit library in South America, which hosted some of the first 500 books ever printed, and the oldest University in Argentina and maybe South America as well. I’m not going to lie, I was pretty giddy. Not to mention, the church tour was in English(!) and the guide was awesome.
(Sidenote: I no longer place commas in between independent clauses. I know I’m supposed to but they don’t do it in Spanish so I’m trying to convert for a few months. Close parenthesis.
That was last Thursday, after a host of meetings and with a paper due on Friday. Friday night I went out. I left the house at 12 to go to a friend’s apartment with all the international kids. The apartment was in the heart of downtown, on the 13th (top) floor and overlooked the city. Amazing. At around 2 we went to the boliche that was next door. They played a lot of electronica in both languages and it was pretty hilarious. I enjoyed fernet and coke and took a taxi home at around 4:30 (early) with a couple of other kids. Luckily one was Argentine and he could communicate in real Spanish where we needed to go. I hate taxi rides (segway to next night).
Saturday night we went to a folklore/doma festival in Berrotarán. Never heard of it? Surprise. About 7,000 people live there. It’s in the middle of NOWHERE. The festival? A gaucho festival. They raised the gaucho Virgin and prayed and everything. There were fireworks and a little family playing Argentine folklore. We ate traditional food (stews and sausage), drank cheap beer and wine, and watched as about 15 gauchos tied horses up to poles, struck them with sticks, then untied them and saw how long they could stay on the bucking thing. I bought a Brazilwood ring. Then we got back on our two big buses and returned to the school, at 3:30am, where we took a taxi with a driver who had no IDEA what we were saying, and thus we almost got lost and very much so pissed the driver off. Everyday’s an adventure.
Sunday I went to the Paseo del Arte, where my family vends their goods but also just a well-known hippy-artisan place. I bought my own mate!!! It has a hibiscus flower, and it costed $6 pesos, and I’m very happy about it. I went to a café that was outdoors and upstairs and was asked again where I was from. I wanted just a beer and little snack, but when I did what I thought was ordering, my waitress laughed at me. When it came out, a chocolate drink was part of my snack. Sooooo I once again proved that I have no idea what I’m doing here. As I did again on Monday night, at tango lessons, which was another disaster, and I figure that I will just stick to sports from now on. For the rest of my life.
I almost had my first Argentine date tonight but I chickened out. One of the Argentine tutors asked me to dinner but I just can’t see myself making conversation in Spanish with anyone but my host family right now. The two sides of my brain between comprehension and speaking are not generally correlating, and that’s a problem on first dates. BUT I might go horseback-riding this weekend with one of the tutors, and even though he’s 30 and a little creepy, and I’m not the least-bit interested, I do love horses.
Class gets worse every day. Today we did arts and crafts. I have realized that there is sooo much vocab that I don’t yet know that I will be screwed in March when real classes start. How was I supposed to know what the pants or the little tie or the beret-hats that a gaucho wears are called?
Oh last note:
I finally gave in and washed my clothes today. Disgusting, I know, but I was scared!! It goes like this: fill up this large bucket thing with water from the hose and soap, put a load in, then take it out, put it in a dirty rusty bucket, and change out the water for the next load. Then dump that water, and fill it with clean water, wring out the bucket-clothes, and rinse them in the large bucket thing. Take them out and put them in the “dryer,” which just drains out most of the water, and hang on the line. It’s not all that hard, but I’m pretty sure that none of my clothes are actually clean. At least I have something to wear tomorrow (when I go horse-back riding in the sierras on a trail! A real trail!)
Nothing planned for the weekend, but the one after, we are going to the Noroeste (Northwest) to visit something. Indian ruins or Jesuit estancias or a carnaval/festival or something. In March we miss a day of class to go to Buenos Aires! Hooray. Patagonia for Easter break? Mendoza with my Clemson spring-breakers?
Ps- I hope everyone in Clemson with this epidemic flu thing gets better! If it makes you feel any better, it is REALLY hot here, and I’ll probably go to a pool tomorrow before my horseback-riding. If I’m not siesta-ing.
Friday, February 8, 2008
Lost in (South) America [for michael: name that reference]
Hoy. Hoy, jueves, was very interesting. I have officially been here for one week, and every day is a new adventure. Soy, I awake a couple minutes before my alarm went off at 7:15 and as I’m lying there half-asleep, I realize that the aquatic noise that I hear is not my bathroom faucet or one of those creepy house sounds but in fact rain. It took me a few minutes to catch on before I realized that it actually does rain here. Damn. It turned out that this shower was in fact a tsunami-esque downpour. I had already decided that I was going to conquer the public transportation system and take the bus (collectivo). So, in order to do so, I left at 7:45, small pink American umbrella in hand. The bus stop wasn’t so far, but this rain hailed straight from the gods, or from the devil. I can’t tell you if they have a bad drainage system here because it was coming down so hard that the roads would have flooded regardless. So here I am in my blue jeans and small pink umbrella and lightweight bag with all of my homework and important papers. Walking in the flooded streets. With the crazy Argentine drivers. And this was only the first ten-fifteen minutes, or first eighteenth, of this adventure. I get to the bus stop, and I am soaked. Literally, my jeans were drenched up to just below my knees. So there I was, being an American on this crowded South American street, and as I look around, I see that every other person—female and otherwise—looks their bests. I had decided not to do the self-pity “oh no I got wet in the rain” thing but then I watched as gorgeous bronze women crossed the highway in their heels and elegant umbrellas as if they had just walked out of a professional stylists’ and it was 75 and sunny. How DO they do it?! Anyway, the bus routes are designated by letter and number. The main ones start with N and then there are others, E, etc, that go to very specific neighborhoods. All N busses are orange, and I knew that I wanted one of those. All N busses also go to the Central, and since I was able to take any N bus the other day towards Central from school, I figured I could take any orange bus back to school from my house, which is in between the two. Right? Wrong. I got on simply “N” and wound up making a complete circle around this residential community that took at least 40 minutes. Crap. It was just after 9 at this point, and class started at 9. And I had planned on getting a coffee beforehand. So it dons on me that yesterday, when my friend was going to Arguello, the town that our school is in, she took the N3. Well, the towns here are small, so I decided that that was where I went wrong. I would have to take an N3. I got off the bus at about the same place as I had gotten on, except on the other side of the busy highway, and commenced to set out and find my N3 bus. I was pretty frustrated at this point, as I hate to be late, and I hate to be lost, and as I made it only to the median, I see an N3 pass going in the direction I need. Great, it would be at least another 10-15 until one passed. So I cross the street, and wait. As it was pouring, and my eyes suck, I had a hard time reading the little signs that read which bus each was, and the next time that an N3 passed, I waved it down right as it approached, and alas, not in time. As I watched it pass me, a little scruffy ugly dog comes right up to my bus stop and nudges my leg as it starts to yip at me. I almost stepped on it but in truth I’m scared of all stray dogs a little so I just stood there with my little pink umbrella and my thin backpack with all my now wet work and important things like wallet and digital camera and new phone (don’t worry dad- nothing got damaged) and held back tears. I considered hailing down every orange bus so as not to miss mine but then I realized that I had already taken the wrong one once, so I would just have to stand on the curb where the water was collecting and the cars were passing dangerous close to splashing it all over my already grungy (for Argentines) clothing and stare real hard at every passing vehicle for another 15 min. At 9:34 I got on the N3 bus, thinking about how I would enter class, what I would tell my professor, etc. Well. I wouldn’t have to worry about that just yet. As I strained to look through the fogged-up window for the familiar building near my bus stop, I noticed that we were getting closer and closer to the mountains. Eventually we ended up on a dirt road, making a circle to turn around at the end of the route, and I was the only passenger still riding. Sweet. Luckily, the bus driver was sweet behind his scruffy demeanor and voice and he asked me where I was going. After repeating the name of the street I needed and the University about five times he said “OHHH Bla Paca” (Blas Pascal? Yes.) He informed me that I needed N1 or N2. You’re kidding. Apparently Arguello is not so small after all. So, I got my second cititur in three days. I also got to see some gauchos who got on the bus near the end/beginning of the route. At this point, it was almost funny. Kind of. 20, 25 minutes later, the bus driver gestured at me and reminded me N1 or N2, across the street. Yep, I knew the routine. I got off at just about the small spot on the same street as before and went to the busstop after almost getting run over for the umpteenth time and got followed by a bigger stray who scared the crap out of me but who at this point I was completely unconcerned with. I knew that my options were 1. Walk home, where I would have to explain to my family why I wasn’t in school, and get five points off my final grade; 2. Go to the nearby McDonalds or bakery and eat my sorrows until the closest bar opened and thus begin to drown them, and get five points off my final grade; or, 3. Wait for N1 or N2. I flagged down the next N2 ten minutes later. I walked into school during our break time, at about 10:40, looking worse than the wet strays. Remember that I left my house at 7:45 and that it takes me 45 minutes to walk to school, or 10-15 on a bike.
The rest of my day was fortunately anticlimactic. My professor felt bad for me and was glad that I finally made it. At lunch I went to an amazing restaurant nearby and had an Argentine hamburger, which means that it had friend egg and cheese inside and that the carne was fresh, almost of a steak consistency, and with delicious bread, with an imported Budweiser. Sidenote: the French fries here are absolutely divine.
Then we watched The Mission, in English with Spanish subtitles, for school and I walked home since it was no longer raining and hence much cooler than it has been for the past week.
Quick synopsis of horseback riding yesterday: I love horsies. LOVE them. We cantered a bit around a loop.
Without even touching on the lessons from this morning, today’s lessons on Argentina and life are: There is no such thing as bad words. They told us this in culture class, but I also learned it at home on about my second day when one of my sisters called the cat a hijo de puta when all of us were present, and the dad just helped explain it because I couldn’t understand the pronunciation. Leading to lesson 2. Cordobeses have a very distinct language. It’s fast and they cut off a lot of words and they don’t use future tense. 3. If you’re going to be walking in torrential downpours, take an extra pair of shoes with you. And Lastly: If you don’t want to look American in South America, don’t wear jeans and teeshirts and basketball shorts and carry little pink umbrellas. For the past two days, I have been hit on my the same traffic guard, in English. Today it was “Hello. I know you. Your eyes are beautiful! I like your eyes. I love the United States!” and Yesterday was, “Hello Hermosa!” Before he got to the Hermosa part, and before I realized that he was the same guy who had said “hey lady” and “how are you girl” on previous days, I responded “Hola,” to which he latched on immediately. As I walked further and further away, he yelled “I have only one question. What is your name?” (this part in Spanish) I wonder if I had answered if it would have been a pick-up line. I was thinking “Oh, well it should be linda” or something.
Ok, that’s all for now. More than anyone cares to read I’m sure. I’m uploading a few pictures (not many), so be sure to check those occasionally as well. If you want to see things like pretty horses. www.picasaweb.google.com/juliegerdesargentina
Nos vemos! (or, here, “No vemo”)
The rest of my day was fortunately anticlimactic. My professor felt bad for me and was glad that I finally made it. At lunch I went to an amazing restaurant nearby and had an Argentine hamburger, which means that it had friend egg and cheese inside and that the carne was fresh, almost of a steak consistency, and with delicious bread, with an imported Budweiser. Sidenote: the French fries here are absolutely divine.
Then we watched The Mission, in English with Spanish subtitles, for school and I walked home since it was no longer raining and hence much cooler than it has been for the past week.
Quick synopsis of horseback riding yesterday: I love horsies. LOVE them. We cantered a bit around a loop.
Without even touching on the lessons from this morning, today’s lessons on Argentina and life are: There is no such thing as bad words. They told us this in culture class, but I also learned it at home on about my second day when one of my sisters called the cat a hijo de puta when all of us were present, and the dad just helped explain it because I couldn’t understand the pronunciation. Leading to lesson 2. Cordobeses have a very distinct language. It’s fast and they cut off a lot of words and they don’t use future tense. 3. If you’re going to be walking in torrential downpours, take an extra pair of shoes with you. And Lastly: If you don’t want to look American in South America, don’t wear jeans and teeshirts and basketball shorts and carry little pink umbrellas. For the past two days, I have been hit on my the same traffic guard, in English. Today it was “Hello. I know you. Your eyes are beautiful! I like your eyes. I love the United States!” and Yesterday was, “Hello Hermosa!” Before he got to the Hermosa part, and before I realized that he was the same guy who had said “hey lady” and “how are you girl” on previous days, I responded “Hola,” to which he latched on immediately. As I walked further and further away, he yelled “I have only one question. What is your name?” (this part in Spanish) I wonder if I had answered if it would have been a pick-up line. I was thinking “Oh, well it should be linda” or something.
Ok, that’s all for now. More than anyone cares to read I’m sure. I’m uploading a few pictures (not many), so be sure to check those occasionally as well. If you want to see things like pretty horses. www.picasaweb.google.com/juliegerdesargentina
Nos vemos! (or, here, “No vemo”)
Wednesday, February 6, 2008
Cititurs and pretty horses- Day 7?
It itches. I have SOO many mosquito bites. This is horrible. Well, we all do really. Everyone leaves their windows open and thus we get tons of mosquitos in the house. Typically when I´m taking my siesta. But 1. I figured out how to use my noisy fan yesterday so I won´t open my ventanas any more and 2. I haven´t been siestaing much this week.
This will be short, because I have my first horseback riding lessons in the Cierras really soon. (Yes that was strategic. You are in fact intended to be jealous.) Anyway, to fill in from yesterday, short version: the Central de Cordoba is BEAUTIFUL. well, not all of it. But we def saw really pretty places and there are tons of pedestrian streets to walk with pretty trees and lots of shopping (woohoo book stores!! Danielle Steel in Spanish!). Riding the buses is not all that difficult afterall. And fiestas on a Tuesday night are not uncommon. I was just getting some rest yesterday when Julia came in and woke me up at hmm about 9:30. We left by 10 to go to Jorgelina (sister´s) party in el Central, at one of her friend´s apartment. It was fun, good food aside from all the mayonaise in it, cerveza, family, etc. But I was soo tired!! We left there around 1:45 and I got to bed at 2:15 to wake up at 7 so that I could have time to get up, shower, eat, and leave for class by 8. Yep. Not much to speak of from today yet, only that I finally bought a cell phone and it should be activated by tonight (hooray celulares!) I´m loopy. My Spanish has been horrible today, and I really would love a nap. It´s also very hot and I´ve walked the 45 to and from school three times already today. Ok time to go ride horses :) Hasta luego!
ps- la negra (the cat) has not returned. i´m afraid i scared it off for life.
pps- i love latin american exchange rates. i´ve been converting everything as i buy it. (a large meal with chicken, salad, and vegetables, and bread, and a bottle of water is 7 pesos... that´s less than $2.50 in the US.
This will be short, because I have my first horseback riding lessons in the Cierras really soon. (Yes that was strategic. You are in fact intended to be jealous.) Anyway, to fill in from yesterday, short version: the Central de Cordoba is BEAUTIFUL. well, not all of it. But we def saw really pretty places and there are tons of pedestrian streets to walk with pretty trees and lots of shopping (woohoo book stores!! Danielle Steel in Spanish!). Riding the buses is not all that difficult afterall. And fiestas on a Tuesday night are not uncommon. I was just getting some rest yesterday when Julia came in and woke me up at hmm about 9:30. We left by 10 to go to Jorgelina (sister´s) party in el Central, at one of her friend´s apartment. It was fun, good food aside from all the mayonaise in it, cerveza, family, etc. But I was soo tired!! We left there around 1:45 and I got to bed at 2:15 to wake up at 7 so that I could have time to get up, shower, eat, and leave for class by 8. Yep. Not much to speak of from today yet, only that I finally bought a cell phone and it should be activated by tonight (hooray celulares!) I´m loopy. My Spanish has been horrible today, and I really would love a nap. It´s also very hot and I´ve walked the 45 to and from school three times already today. Ok time to go ride horses :) Hasta luego!
ps- la negra (the cat) has not returned. i´m afraid i scared it off for life.
pps- i love latin american exchange rates. i´ve been converting everything as i buy it. (a large meal with chicken, salad, and vegetables, and bread, and a bottle of water is 7 pesos... that´s less than $2.50 in the US.
Tuesday, February 5, 2008
Days 4-6
Hola!
I am writing from a computer lab at the UBP, my school for the next five months. This keyboard is horible. Well, not horible except for the fact that I can´t use it. But alas, I can finally type words like niño and manaña and whatever word you would write with Ç (¿façade?) without searching for the symbol. It really is the little things that count. Anyway, here I am in Argentina. Un poco extraño para mi. Let´s recap. Saturday night I did not ¨salir¨to the ¨bolliche¨but instead went to a birthday party with my family. It was for the 30th of one of the daughters, the one who lives down the street. It was interesante. They held the party at a soccer field in the Centro, the downtown of the city. Her husband runs it for kids. We had tacos with meat that was cooked on what they use for asados-- this big grill thing. Yummm. I was bummed not to go out with my international friends but 1. I wasn´t sure what my mother was asking when she asked for plans for the night; I just nodded and said ¨si¨so she was very excited that I was botching my plans for her party, and thus I was stuck going and 2. It ended up being fun and I stayed up drinking fernet (an Argentine kind of liquor) mixed with Coca-Cola and explaining US customs to Argentines until 6 am!! The young kids were up until at least 3, and one of the sisters in the house went out at 2:30. I don´t know how I´m going to keep this up. Alas, Sunday I slept all morning until lunchtime (at 2) when I ate more deliciousness. For dessert? Fruit salad... with wine poured on it. Alberto, the father, recommended it and it was actually amazing. I had it again at dinner. I did nothing else all day.
Monday, class officially started but we just listened to an informative lecture about academics and grading here and our program, then did Visa paperwork and then took a exam to measure our level of Spanish. Today, we came back to the University, and I found out that I placed at the highest level, so I´ll be with that group until the end of the intensive month of February. I´m not sure how I did it but I´m sort of wishing that I didn´t so that it won´t be as hard. Oh well. Today we learned about the jesuits and then I went and ate empenadas in the school cafeteria. YUM. This afternoon we all have a city tour-- it´s funny; they say ¨city tour¨in English but I can never make it out. the tour is kind of like tur but faster. Anyway, we are taking a double-decker bus. Interesante. It´s also one of the daughters´in my house 25th birthday. Fiesta tonight I think. I don´t know when I will have time to take my siesta or do my homework, but it´s all good.
Two things I´ve learned here: I really do like tomatos, and other food that I would not have had the guts to try at home. and also, I can be anyone I want to be here, and in 5 months I´ll leave and it won´t matter. I lie all the time. on accident. For example, Alberto knows that I am studying language,but when I tried to explain to him that I want to go into editing or publishing, he got literature. So now he tells any visitor that I want to be a teacher. I was going to correct him, but it´s not easy, and I realized that it sort of just doesn´t matter. The next person I meet I´m going to tell that I want to be an astronaut. I´ll see how that fits me. Already, no one believes that as a girl I play rugby. Esta bien. I´ll become a 22-yr-old nureoscientist who swims.
That´s all for now folks! Stay posted, and I´ll try to take more pictures. It´s dangerous to use electronics on the street.
I am writing from a computer lab at the UBP, my school for the next five months. This keyboard is horible. Well, not horible except for the fact that I can´t use it. But alas, I can finally type words like niño and manaña and whatever word you would write with Ç (¿façade?) without searching for the symbol. It really is the little things that count. Anyway, here I am in Argentina. Un poco extraño para mi. Let´s recap. Saturday night I did not ¨salir¨to the ¨bolliche¨but instead went to a birthday party with my family. It was for the 30th of one of the daughters, the one who lives down the street. It was interesante. They held the party at a soccer field in the Centro, the downtown of the city. Her husband runs it for kids. We had tacos with meat that was cooked on what they use for asados-- this big grill thing. Yummm. I was bummed not to go out with my international friends but 1. I wasn´t sure what my mother was asking when she asked for plans for the night; I just nodded and said ¨si¨so she was very excited that I was botching my plans for her party, and thus I was stuck going and 2. It ended up being fun and I stayed up drinking fernet (an Argentine kind of liquor) mixed with Coca-Cola and explaining US customs to Argentines until 6 am!! The young kids were up until at least 3, and one of the sisters in the house went out at 2:30. I don´t know how I´m going to keep this up. Alas, Sunday I slept all morning until lunchtime (at 2) when I ate more deliciousness. For dessert? Fruit salad... with wine poured on it. Alberto, the father, recommended it and it was actually amazing. I had it again at dinner. I did nothing else all day.
Monday, class officially started but we just listened to an informative lecture about academics and grading here and our program, then did Visa paperwork and then took a exam to measure our level of Spanish. Today, we came back to the University, and I found out that I placed at the highest level, so I´ll be with that group until the end of the intensive month of February. I´m not sure how I did it but I´m sort of wishing that I didn´t so that it won´t be as hard. Oh well. Today we learned about the jesuits and then I went and ate empenadas in the school cafeteria. YUM. This afternoon we all have a city tour-- it´s funny; they say ¨city tour¨in English but I can never make it out. the tour is kind of like tur but faster. Anyway, we are taking a double-decker bus. Interesante. It´s also one of the daughters´in my house 25th birthday. Fiesta tonight I think. I don´t know when I will have time to take my siesta or do my homework, but it´s all good.
Two things I´ve learned here: I really do like tomatos, and other food that I would not have had the guts to try at home. and also, I can be anyone I want to be here, and in 5 months I´ll leave and it won´t matter. I lie all the time. on accident. For example, Alberto knows that I am studying language,but when I tried to explain to him that I want to go into editing or publishing, he got literature. So now he tells any visitor that I want to be a teacher. I was going to correct him, but it´s not easy, and I realized that it sort of just doesn´t matter. The next person I meet I´m going to tell that I want to be an astronaut. I´ll see how that fits me. Already, no one believes that as a girl I play rugby. Esta bien. I´ll become a 22-yr-old nureoscientist who swims.
That´s all for now folks! Stay posted, and I´ll try to take more pictures. It´s dangerous to use electronics on the street.
Days 1-3
I am posting what I wrote from my casa-- it´s from a few days ago. I´ll update soon!
It’s Day 3. Let me bring you up to speed on my trip. My vacation, really.
Day 1: Thursday (well—Wednesday, considering that’s when my flight left. It’s never a good sign when you leave on one day and arrive on another date altogether.) Alas, I flew out of Norfolk on Wednesday night at 6, and I got to Atlanta at 8. Then I found the gate for my next flight to Santiago and had about an hour. I wound up meeting someone else from Clemson, Tyler, at the airport. He had flown in from California. So, we embarked on this journey together. We could not have predicted that my seat was 26E, and his? 26F. So we sat directly next to each other and relished in speaking the last of the English that we would be allowed to for months. I had a window seat—good for viewing the Andes, bad for sleeping during a flight that lasted 9pm-8:30am. Aye dios mio it was a LONG flight! I tried to sleep, and Tyler (my new buddy) said that I did but it was definitely fitfully. They played Balls of Fury first, an awful sign, and then we got dinner. It was probably the nastiest thing I had ever laid eyes on—some ravioli with emphasis on the garlic. Needless to say, it was a good thing I had grabbed a piece of pizza before departing. While it was a very long flight, we arrived in Santiago before we knew it. Flying over the first bit of land after being over the ocean since the dawn had arrived was a little surreal—there was no sign of human life; just mountains. Very brown mountains. We were shocked by the lack of, well, anything else. No vegetation, no human life forms, no water, just miles and miles of mountains. Eventually we started heading downward and at last some small towns began to appear. One of them ended up to be Santiago--- much smaller than I had expected, but beautiful and rural, with mountains on all sides. Here was the tricky part—in the US we received boarding passes up until Santiago. Then, we would have to find out how to get the passes for the last leg to Cordoba. First, we went through a pathetic excuse of a security trick, near which sat a case of banned items that included precarious weapons that were definitely not new or unused. We weren’t in Kansas anymore. Everything became Spanish, and as we approached a desk that had some indication of passes and help, the women immediately began responding to my Spanish in English. It was evident that I didn’t belong, but it didn’t bother me. Our passes read Gate “18A.” Easy enough—we found it, and I started getting loopy from the plane ride. I meandered the airport shops to move my legs (don’t worry Amy, I made sure to move them during the flight as well! And I’m still alive...) Anyway, we had two hours to kill. Our next flight was to start boarding at 10:20 and leave at 10:40. So we sat at the gate as they continued to announce the same flight to Mendoza. When that flight eventually left, we realized that there were only about 5 other people still in the 18 and 18A gate area. And it was like 10:30. We figured the plane must be late and speculated on how awful it would be if our flight really left at 10:40 pm. We decided to mosey over to the TV screens that ran flight times. Opps. It read “Rosario via Córdoba: Gate 17.” Well, two other students from the US came up and said they were going to Cordoba too. So we hurried to the other gate, where a frantic attendant told us to run to the plane. Great. I’m the only one hurrying, and then another guy yells at us “Tienen que correr” (yall have to run!”) So we go faster, first go in the wrong door, then go back to the correct one, where we enter the plane and fumble to our seats. I had a coat and sweatshirt, a purse, and a huge backpack. And I was sitting in a window seat, so I had to step over two people with all my stuff (the overheads were full) to reach mine. Que lastima. It was quite the show. Everyone look at the foolish Americans. (Not to mention it was probably 90 degrees F here).
The flight between Santiago and Cordoba was absolutely beautiful. I pretty much stared out the window the entire time, not wanting to disturb anyone by shifting all of my enormous carry-on stuff to find entertainment. Regardless, we passed over the Andes, and they were one off the most awe-inspiring visions of my life. First, all of the mountains were brown but they quickly became white-capped, and the clouds that floated between were dreamlike, puffy in texture and the whitest white you could envision. Not white like Crayon white or ceiling-paint white, but a new form of white—the complete absence of colour, in front of a sky of unchanging blue in the purest form. The Andes stretched on and on. I ordered a coffee. Chilean coffee is no joke. I can’t explain the taste, but it was like a desert rather than a bitter stimulant. Rich in colour and taste, I added my sugar substitute and some Coffeemate (almost all of the brands here are the same), and I was in Heaven. Sidenote—the snacks that they gave were almost equally awesome—a brownie, almonds, and a cookie, in a cute little box. I like LAN Airlines. Anyway, eventually the huge mountain ranges gave way to smaller ones and plots of land. I began noticing a lot of agriculture, and then we approached one more mountain range before we began to greet the cloud puffs head-on. As we got near to the airport, I didn’t see much in terms of settlement, although more neighborhoods, or barrios, began to take form. Still, it turns out that the airport is on the rural outskirts of the city. With a beautiful mountain range in the near distance. There were a ton of cows grazing in one beautiful pasture. I looked at them and thanked them for future asados (Argentine bar-b-ques with steaks and sausages and deliciousness). Anyway, we landed, and I was in my new temporary home.
Customs scared me. I think it’s supposed to. Firstly, I wasn’t sure how to fill out the forms because I don’t yet have a Visa. I told them I was vacationing. The man at the booth quickly stamped my forms and my passport, and I went to collect my baggage, which was easy to locate and quick in its arrival. It should always be like this. Before greeting the family with whom I would stay, I exchanged some money. I think I got a bad deal, but I’m happy to have some pesos for these first few days. My padres and this other kid with a rattail—I don’t know exactly the relaction—nephew maybe, greeted me, along with the program director, and Tyler and I separated. I was on my own, with my school Spanish as my only guide.
One of the first things I noticed was the traffic. There doesn’t seem to be any concern for any regulations whatsoever. In fact, I have only seen two traffic officials in two days. One was hailing a train, and the other was getting into the passenger seat of a commercial car. Regardless, Alberto, the father who was driving, passed people left and right, and at the same time got passed my mopeds and other vehicles. I was scared out of my mind and tried not to clench my fist or grind my teeth, at least not obviously. There are a lot of mopeds and also an occasional horse and buggy sort of deal. All of a sudden we pulled to a halt at the front door. The houses are all very very close together along these parallel streets. As soon as I walked into the house, I was greeted by a gato! He is muy feo (ugly) and crazy--- perfect for my taste. Then I learned of another cat. They call her negrita and hijo de puta (I’ll translate as much as son of a …) But I think she’s very sweet. Both come into my bed sometimes when I’m taking a siesta or in the early morning to wake me. The family is very happy that I like cats.
The mother made almuerzo (lunch), which consisted of very fresh vegetables in a salad with rice and bread. It was very tasty. We had fruit- melon- and flan de dulce de leche for dessert. Flan in my new favorite. I never liked it when I attempted to make it for Spanish classes before, but this stuff is out of this world, esp de dulce de leche. Yum. The fruit is all very fresh also. And the juice is delicious. I am definitely a fan of the food here. I then took a nap and read for the majority of the afternoon. Before I knew it, it was after 7, and the sun was still up. I went with the parents to a supermercado so that they could shop, and I could use the cybercafé. To begin describing this place, I will start with Walmart. Then add boutique shops, a McDonalds, cafes, kiosks where one can purchase cars, and surfshops. This place was amazing!!! I paid one peso (three pesos= US $1, so this was about 33 cents) for thirty minutes of Internet use to email my parents. That night, we went to the house of a relative that was three blocks from our house. There were probably 12 adults there in total and 3 or 4 young children. We passed mate—also a new favourite—and talked. Eventually, around probably 11 or later—we ordered pizzas and ate. The kids were still up! We had Coca-Cola and Sprite, along with juice and water (they serve a lot of carbonated water—like everywhere, in these very unique bottles). They also opened a bottle of Budweiser and wine. I tried a little bit of the wine, and like the coffee, it was just my style- dark red and fairly dry. By 1:00 am I was about to fall asleep but feeling more and more comfortable. I understand almost all of what people say, but I think they have a hard time understanding me! But everyone is very patient, and they compliment my Spanish for some reason. I’m trying…
We went home, and lucky for me, the mother has a sweettooth. So we had some melon and this pear-like fruit that is soooo sweet and delicious, it’s my other new favourite. It seems that often times the mother, Julia, and I are the only ones eating dessert. Typical. Also, the mother’s name is Julia (hoo-lia) and there is a kid (again- a nephew??) named Julio. So, I look up every time I hear the sound “Who.” They call me either Juli (Hoo-lee), or they try it in English and it becomes “Chu-lee.”
Day 2:
This synopsis will be much shorter. Viernes, I didn’t do much. I woke up around 10 and no one was really home, but I wasn’t sure. So I ate a granola bar that I brought and got dressed to go running. One problem: I couldn’t figure out how to open the front door. So I was locked inside. Interesting feat. The family came home from shopping for yarn and such and showed me the key, which was directly next to the door. I’m an idiot. Anyway, I went running at like 1pm. It was hot. Like, very hot. They told me to leave the iPod at home so that I didn’t get robbed. Sweet. Anyway, I went down this path that exists mostly for riding bikes and motos (mopeds) and followed it all the way to my school. It is about a 40-minute walk, so I guess it’s between two and two-and-a-half miles. After a long bout of running past residential streets lined with these small houses, the path opened up to a street, and I was in a busier part of the city. My University was about two blocks further. I walked along the street outside, and it was very pretty. It was very hot and I was getting tired, so I turned and ran back home. I was sweating pretty badly when I returned, and they were just about to eat lunch, at about 2 pm. We had geiso (sp?), which is a dish unique to Argentina. It was really just pasta with a tomato sauce and chopped up meat. DELICIOUS. I love the carne here, and this dish was amazing. It was assisted with juice, salad, and bread. They put these long loaves of French bread on the table and you just cut it right there! And then they just shake out the tablecloth afterwards. It works wonderfully. Then we (the two parents and I) had melon and other fruit for dessert. As is becoming routine, I went upstairs to hide in my room, reading and resting for the afternoon. Eventually, I went downstairs and later helped one of the girls transfer her photos from one camera to another using my computer b/c theirs is horrible. The parents don’t know how to use the Internet, nor do they really care. Julia said that she will learn one day when she has more time, but now it’s not important to her—she says she’d rather cook or sleep than sit on the computer looking up information that she doesn’t need. I think that the Internet and cell phone craze is hitting the younger crowd now but that it’s too late to sink in with the older folks. Then we had dinner at 10:30pm. We had these pot-pie things, and I have no idea what was in them. But they were good! Same deal—melon for dessert. Then I sat and spoke with Alberto, the father, about sports and Argentina in general. All education is free here, and students in upper-middle class never work. Summertime is three months of kicking back. Sometimes, middle-class students will work, but not usually. He’s very insightful, and patient with my language. Sometimes they will use a common word and they have to repeat it like 4 times before I catch on. Opps.
I went to bed at like 1:30, right when one of the girls left with her friends to go out I suppose.
Day 3: Hoy.
Today I had my orientation to the UBP (Universidad Blas Pascal), where I will study this semester. I decided to walk, rather than face the taxis or busses. It took about 45 minutes, but when I got there I saw many familiar Clemson faces. We listened as they told us about using phones and safety and health. All healthcare is free, and to for a doctor to come to your house for whatever reason costs 5 pesos (less than US $2). Then we used the computer labs, which are very nice, to set up our version of BlackBoard. Then we got a campus tour, ending at some tables for our ASADO!!! I hadn’t eaten breakfast, and let me tell you that I was very ready for this asado. It began with empanadas—a common snack here of these bready packets filled with anything (once again, I have no idea what was in mine- steak I think)- then continued to slabs of steak and salad and Coke and carbonated water and bread. We also had rice and these sausage things that I think are made from beef, but I can’t ever remember their names. Yum. Flan was dessert!!! I was very excited about this, and I sat with my tutor and some other kids that were very nice. My tutor is interesting, but the other tutors at the UBP are awesome. Very chill and outgoing at the same time. I was so happy to see other students struggling with the language. Haha maybe that’s rude, but I’m sure they’d agree. We played games outside—stupid, kids-camp games with balloons and chairs too-few for the number of people playing. I figured I couldn’t beat them, so I joined, and I danced as we circled around and around to tango music. Afterwards, we all made plans to “salir” tonight. Salir= go out. We are going to a bolliche. There are bolliches and barros. Bolliches are where you go to dance, and barros are like pubs. We are all very excited to dance, and to be together. I think that my tutor is picking me up, but I couldn’t understand him. Haha. We are meeting at 12:30 in the morning. Hopefully we will be done eating dinner by then!!! The 40-minute walk home was hot. Very hot. But I think that I’m already getting tan, and my shorts are already becoming too big.
Well, it’s 7:00 pm, so I’m going to take a nap so that I can last until 6 or whatever time in the morning that I will return to sleep. We surely won’t eat until 9 or 10, so I should have plenty of time. Tomorrow I’m going to “Paseo del arte,” where a ton of “hippies,” as my friend described them, sell clothing and stuff on the street. It turns out that the women in my family sell their clothes there. Sidenote: I think I’m going to learn to sew. I’m thinking it’s inevitable. Once again, I’ll join em and dance.
It’s Day 3. Let me bring you up to speed on my trip. My vacation, really.
Day 1: Thursday (well—Wednesday, considering that’s when my flight left. It’s never a good sign when you leave on one day and arrive on another date altogether.) Alas, I flew out of Norfolk on Wednesday night at 6, and I got to Atlanta at 8. Then I found the gate for my next flight to Santiago and had about an hour. I wound up meeting someone else from Clemson, Tyler, at the airport. He had flown in from California. So, we embarked on this journey together. We could not have predicted that my seat was 26E, and his? 26F. So we sat directly next to each other and relished in speaking the last of the English that we would be allowed to for months. I had a window seat—good for viewing the Andes, bad for sleeping during a flight that lasted 9pm-8:30am. Aye dios mio it was a LONG flight! I tried to sleep, and Tyler (my new buddy) said that I did but it was definitely fitfully. They played Balls of Fury first, an awful sign, and then we got dinner. It was probably the nastiest thing I had ever laid eyes on—some ravioli with emphasis on the garlic. Needless to say, it was a good thing I had grabbed a piece of pizza before departing. While it was a very long flight, we arrived in Santiago before we knew it. Flying over the first bit of land after being over the ocean since the dawn had arrived was a little surreal—there was no sign of human life; just mountains. Very brown mountains. We were shocked by the lack of, well, anything else. No vegetation, no human life forms, no water, just miles and miles of mountains. Eventually we started heading downward and at last some small towns began to appear. One of them ended up to be Santiago--- much smaller than I had expected, but beautiful and rural, with mountains on all sides. Here was the tricky part—in the US we received boarding passes up until Santiago. Then, we would have to find out how to get the passes for the last leg to Cordoba. First, we went through a pathetic excuse of a security trick, near which sat a case of banned items that included precarious weapons that were definitely not new or unused. We weren’t in Kansas anymore. Everything became Spanish, and as we approached a desk that had some indication of passes and help, the women immediately began responding to my Spanish in English. It was evident that I didn’t belong, but it didn’t bother me. Our passes read Gate “18A.” Easy enough—we found it, and I started getting loopy from the plane ride. I meandered the airport shops to move my legs (don’t worry Amy, I made sure to move them during the flight as well! And I’m still alive...) Anyway, we had two hours to kill. Our next flight was to start boarding at 10:20 and leave at 10:40. So we sat at the gate as they continued to announce the same flight to Mendoza. When that flight eventually left, we realized that there were only about 5 other people still in the 18 and 18A gate area. And it was like 10:30. We figured the plane must be late and speculated on how awful it would be if our flight really left at 10:40 pm. We decided to mosey over to the TV screens that ran flight times. Opps. It read “Rosario via Córdoba: Gate 17.” Well, two other students from the US came up and said they were going to Cordoba too. So we hurried to the other gate, where a frantic attendant told us to run to the plane. Great. I’m the only one hurrying, and then another guy yells at us “Tienen que correr” (yall have to run!”) So we go faster, first go in the wrong door, then go back to the correct one, where we enter the plane and fumble to our seats. I had a coat and sweatshirt, a purse, and a huge backpack. And I was sitting in a window seat, so I had to step over two people with all my stuff (the overheads were full) to reach mine. Que lastima. It was quite the show. Everyone look at the foolish Americans. (Not to mention it was probably 90 degrees F here).
The flight between Santiago and Cordoba was absolutely beautiful. I pretty much stared out the window the entire time, not wanting to disturb anyone by shifting all of my enormous carry-on stuff to find entertainment. Regardless, we passed over the Andes, and they were one off the most awe-inspiring visions of my life. First, all of the mountains were brown but they quickly became white-capped, and the clouds that floated between were dreamlike, puffy in texture and the whitest white you could envision. Not white like Crayon white or ceiling-paint white, but a new form of white—the complete absence of colour, in front of a sky of unchanging blue in the purest form. The Andes stretched on and on. I ordered a coffee. Chilean coffee is no joke. I can’t explain the taste, but it was like a desert rather than a bitter stimulant. Rich in colour and taste, I added my sugar substitute and some Coffeemate (almost all of the brands here are the same), and I was in Heaven. Sidenote—the snacks that they gave were almost equally awesome—a brownie, almonds, and a cookie, in a cute little box. I like LAN Airlines. Anyway, eventually the huge mountain ranges gave way to smaller ones and plots of land. I began noticing a lot of agriculture, and then we approached one more mountain range before we began to greet the cloud puffs head-on. As we got near to the airport, I didn’t see much in terms of settlement, although more neighborhoods, or barrios, began to take form. Still, it turns out that the airport is on the rural outskirts of the city. With a beautiful mountain range in the near distance. There were a ton of cows grazing in one beautiful pasture. I looked at them and thanked them for future asados (Argentine bar-b-ques with steaks and sausages and deliciousness). Anyway, we landed, and I was in my new temporary home.
Customs scared me. I think it’s supposed to. Firstly, I wasn’t sure how to fill out the forms because I don’t yet have a Visa. I told them I was vacationing. The man at the booth quickly stamped my forms and my passport, and I went to collect my baggage, which was easy to locate and quick in its arrival. It should always be like this. Before greeting the family with whom I would stay, I exchanged some money. I think I got a bad deal, but I’m happy to have some pesos for these first few days. My padres and this other kid with a rattail—I don’t know exactly the relaction—nephew maybe, greeted me, along with the program director, and Tyler and I separated. I was on my own, with my school Spanish as my only guide.
One of the first things I noticed was the traffic. There doesn’t seem to be any concern for any regulations whatsoever. In fact, I have only seen two traffic officials in two days. One was hailing a train, and the other was getting into the passenger seat of a commercial car. Regardless, Alberto, the father who was driving, passed people left and right, and at the same time got passed my mopeds and other vehicles. I was scared out of my mind and tried not to clench my fist or grind my teeth, at least not obviously. There are a lot of mopeds and also an occasional horse and buggy sort of deal. All of a sudden we pulled to a halt at the front door. The houses are all very very close together along these parallel streets. As soon as I walked into the house, I was greeted by a gato! He is muy feo (ugly) and crazy--- perfect for my taste. Then I learned of another cat. They call her negrita and hijo de puta (I’ll translate as much as son of a …) But I think she’s very sweet. Both come into my bed sometimes when I’m taking a siesta or in the early morning to wake me. The family is very happy that I like cats.
The mother made almuerzo (lunch), which consisted of very fresh vegetables in a salad with rice and bread. It was very tasty. We had fruit- melon- and flan de dulce de leche for dessert. Flan in my new favorite. I never liked it when I attempted to make it for Spanish classes before, but this stuff is out of this world, esp de dulce de leche. Yum. The fruit is all very fresh also. And the juice is delicious. I am definitely a fan of the food here. I then took a nap and read for the majority of the afternoon. Before I knew it, it was after 7, and the sun was still up. I went with the parents to a supermercado so that they could shop, and I could use the cybercafé. To begin describing this place, I will start with Walmart. Then add boutique shops, a McDonalds, cafes, kiosks where one can purchase cars, and surfshops. This place was amazing!!! I paid one peso (three pesos= US $1, so this was about 33 cents) for thirty minutes of Internet use to email my parents. That night, we went to the house of a relative that was three blocks from our house. There were probably 12 adults there in total and 3 or 4 young children. We passed mate—also a new favourite—and talked. Eventually, around probably 11 or later—we ordered pizzas and ate. The kids were still up! We had Coca-Cola and Sprite, along with juice and water (they serve a lot of carbonated water—like everywhere, in these very unique bottles). They also opened a bottle of Budweiser and wine. I tried a little bit of the wine, and like the coffee, it was just my style- dark red and fairly dry. By 1:00 am I was about to fall asleep but feeling more and more comfortable. I understand almost all of what people say, but I think they have a hard time understanding me! But everyone is very patient, and they compliment my Spanish for some reason. I’m trying…
We went home, and lucky for me, the mother has a sweettooth. So we had some melon and this pear-like fruit that is soooo sweet and delicious, it’s my other new favourite. It seems that often times the mother, Julia, and I are the only ones eating dessert. Typical. Also, the mother’s name is Julia (hoo-lia) and there is a kid (again- a nephew??) named Julio. So, I look up every time I hear the sound “Who.” They call me either Juli (Hoo-lee), or they try it in English and it becomes “Chu-lee.”
Day 2:
This synopsis will be much shorter. Viernes, I didn’t do much. I woke up around 10 and no one was really home, but I wasn’t sure. So I ate a granola bar that I brought and got dressed to go running. One problem: I couldn’t figure out how to open the front door. So I was locked inside. Interesting feat. The family came home from shopping for yarn and such and showed me the key, which was directly next to the door. I’m an idiot. Anyway, I went running at like 1pm. It was hot. Like, very hot. They told me to leave the iPod at home so that I didn’t get robbed. Sweet. Anyway, I went down this path that exists mostly for riding bikes and motos (mopeds) and followed it all the way to my school. It is about a 40-minute walk, so I guess it’s between two and two-and-a-half miles. After a long bout of running past residential streets lined with these small houses, the path opened up to a street, and I was in a busier part of the city. My University was about two blocks further. I walked along the street outside, and it was very pretty. It was very hot and I was getting tired, so I turned and ran back home. I was sweating pretty badly when I returned, and they were just about to eat lunch, at about 2 pm. We had geiso (sp?), which is a dish unique to Argentina. It was really just pasta with a tomato sauce and chopped up meat. DELICIOUS. I love the carne here, and this dish was amazing. It was assisted with juice, salad, and bread. They put these long loaves of French bread on the table and you just cut it right there! And then they just shake out the tablecloth afterwards. It works wonderfully. Then we (the two parents and I) had melon and other fruit for dessert. As is becoming routine, I went upstairs to hide in my room, reading and resting for the afternoon. Eventually, I went downstairs and later helped one of the girls transfer her photos from one camera to another using my computer b/c theirs is horrible. The parents don’t know how to use the Internet, nor do they really care. Julia said that she will learn one day when she has more time, but now it’s not important to her—she says she’d rather cook or sleep than sit on the computer looking up information that she doesn’t need. I think that the Internet and cell phone craze is hitting the younger crowd now but that it’s too late to sink in with the older folks. Then we had dinner at 10:30pm. We had these pot-pie things, and I have no idea what was in them. But they were good! Same deal—melon for dessert. Then I sat and spoke with Alberto, the father, about sports and Argentina in general. All education is free here, and students in upper-middle class never work. Summertime is three months of kicking back. Sometimes, middle-class students will work, but not usually. He’s very insightful, and patient with my language. Sometimes they will use a common word and they have to repeat it like 4 times before I catch on. Opps.
I went to bed at like 1:30, right when one of the girls left with her friends to go out I suppose.
Day 3: Hoy.
Today I had my orientation to the UBP (Universidad Blas Pascal), where I will study this semester. I decided to walk, rather than face the taxis or busses. It took about 45 minutes, but when I got there I saw many familiar Clemson faces. We listened as they told us about using phones and safety and health. All healthcare is free, and to for a doctor to come to your house for whatever reason costs 5 pesos (less than US $2). Then we used the computer labs, which are very nice, to set up our version of BlackBoard. Then we got a campus tour, ending at some tables for our ASADO!!! I hadn’t eaten breakfast, and let me tell you that I was very ready for this asado. It began with empanadas—a common snack here of these bready packets filled with anything (once again, I have no idea what was in mine- steak I think)- then continued to slabs of steak and salad and Coke and carbonated water and bread. We also had rice and these sausage things that I think are made from beef, but I can’t ever remember their names. Yum. Flan was dessert!!! I was very excited about this, and I sat with my tutor and some other kids that were very nice. My tutor is interesting, but the other tutors at the UBP are awesome. Very chill and outgoing at the same time. I was so happy to see other students struggling with the language. Haha maybe that’s rude, but I’m sure they’d agree. We played games outside—stupid, kids-camp games with balloons and chairs too-few for the number of people playing. I figured I couldn’t beat them, so I joined, and I danced as we circled around and around to tango music. Afterwards, we all made plans to “salir” tonight. Salir= go out. We are going to a bolliche. There are bolliches and barros. Bolliches are where you go to dance, and barros are like pubs. We are all very excited to dance, and to be together. I think that my tutor is picking me up, but I couldn’t understand him. Haha. We are meeting at 12:30 in the morning. Hopefully we will be done eating dinner by then!!! The 40-minute walk home was hot. Very hot. But I think that I’m already getting tan, and my shorts are already becoming too big.
Well, it’s 7:00 pm, so I’m going to take a nap so that I can last until 6 or whatever time in the morning that I will return to sleep. We surely won’t eat until 9 or 10, so I should have plenty of time. Tomorrow I’m going to “Paseo del arte,” where a ton of “hippies,” as my friend described them, sell clothing and stuff on the street. It turns out that the women in my family sell their clothes there. Sidenote: I think I’m going to learn to sew. I’m thinking it’s inevitable. Once again, I’ll join em and dance.
Sunday, January 27, 2008
pre-Arg
Hey all-
I'm just setting up my blog for Argentina. I'm not there yet, but I figure that I'm out of Clemson, and that's a good start to this trip! I am currently in Va, and let me tell you, packing/shopping for five months and three seasons is not easy. But good news- it's supposed to be 85 degrees F and sunny on my first afternoon there, so I'm very excited.
I had the flu last weekend and a little bit of pink eye this weekend. I'm just trying to get all ailments and bed rest out of my system before I take off, I suppose.
Anyway, keep checking back to this blog for updates-- I leave this Wed, Jan 30, and I arrive on Jan 31 to Cordoba. I am also setting up a photo site, and I'll let everyone know what that address is. I'm coming around quickly to google apps after initial skepticism...
Un beso gigante!
I'm just setting up my blog for Argentina. I'm not there yet, but I figure that I'm out of Clemson, and that's a good start to this trip! I am currently in Va, and let me tell you, packing/shopping for five months and three seasons is not easy. But good news- it's supposed to be 85 degrees F and sunny on my first afternoon there, so I'm very excited.
I had the flu last weekend and a little bit of pink eye this weekend. I'm just trying to get all ailments and bed rest out of my system before I take off, I suppose.
Anyway, keep checking back to this blog for updates-- I leave this Wed, Jan 30, and I arrive on Jan 31 to Cordoba. I am also setting up a photo site, and I'll let everyone know what that address is. I'm coming around quickly to google apps after initial skepticism...
Un beso gigante!
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