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”).

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 13^th (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.

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”)

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.

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.

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.