Nieve y Fuego

Coming to you from the southernmost city in the world! Bienvenidos a Ushuaia, el fin del mundo. Beth and I arrived here Saturday at about noon after having stayed up most of the night (or in my case all night) packing up and getting ready to head out. We still have two days in the city after we leave Tierra del Fuego, but I won't be living in Marta's house anymore, and my South American life is once again packed away into two carry-ons and a rolling suitcase so large my whole family could probably have a party in it. This time there's a large duffel bag added to the mix to help distribute excess weight, and hopefully I won't go back to the northern hemisphere with my bank account having been lightened by the heaviness of my bags (see what I did there?).

So far this place is amazing, and although I feel pretty incredibly lucky to get to experience it, I'm not sure if I could live with so little sunlight for such a big chunk of the year. It's the beginning of winter now, and the sun only crosses about a quarter of the sky, maybe not even, per day- sunrise happens at around 10 AM and sunset at about 5 PM. Even after a full night's sleep, 10 AM feels like 6. Crazy. I think we've both taken at least one nap per day. Also really interesting is how warm it is for how low the latitude seems- daytime temps average about 34 Fahrenheit, which means that the cold isn't unbearable, but makes it just warm enough every day that the very top layer of snow on the ground will melt slightly and turn all the sidewalks into sheets of ice for the next day once the nighttime freeze hits. So far I haven't fallen like a fool (fingers crossed) but I do feel like Bambi on a frozen pond everywhere I go.

 Snow pants.

The past few days we've ridden in dog sleds, trekked across a valley in snow shoes, taken a boat tour of the Beagle channel, explored the port, eaten lots and lots of polenta, which I am currently obsessed with, drunk mate, and snowboarded down the street outside the hostel last night in the fresh snow. Tonight we're planning to do some ice skating, and tomorrow we'll be making the most of the last day taking a long walk/hike through the national park and going to the Martial glacier to do some real snowboarding. Excited!! Time in Argentina is almost up. But shh, we don't talk about that, and it feels too unreal anyway.

Techos para Todos

So it's my last month here. Como...? I haven't had much time for writing the past few days/week, so I'm going to try and make up for lost time. I have exactly three weeks and two days until I leave the country of Argentina and only two more weeks of living in the city. Introspection time will have to wait until later, though (I pity you ahead of time for when it does come and I'm inspired to write a post full of profound personal reflections), for now there's still too much diem to carpe here.

Two weeks ago today I had the opportunity to participate in an activity that I'm fairly certain was the best experience I've had my entire stay here. There's an organization that was started in Chile and has spread over the years to nearly every country in Central and South America called Un Techo para mi País (A Roof for my Country- more commonly known as just "Techo"). It's run entirely by people between the ages of 18 and 30, and every few months it sponsors a huge home construction project in areas of extreme poverty. From what I've heard the projects can be pretty difficult to get into, and I think the construction we were a part of had a team of nearly 3000 people, but we were very lucky that Raúl signed us up at the beginning of the semester and did the registration process for us.

Hmmm, let's see. It really was such a wonderful weekend I'm not sure where to begin. We brought clothes for working in, a few toiletries, a sleeping bag and a floor pad to put under it. The whole team met up Thursday night at about 9:00 in the plaza of one of the military centers here in the city, and we all went to our respective barrios. Basic overview of construction team structure: the nearly 3000 of us were divided into schools of about 60-70 people (schools because we literally slept in elementary schools), then once we arrived at our school each school split into 10-12 small groups (cuadrillas) of 6 or 7 people, and each cuadrilla built a house. Keep in mind the term "house", by the standards of most people who have one, is used loosely. It is four sideboard walls lined with heavy black paper, three windows, and a door, raised about a foot about the ground by a stilt foundation (no concrete), with a tin roof over insulation. For the people we built it for, though, it was a brand new home.

Our "jefa" was a 44-year-old woman named Adriana. She had twelve children, although she only lived with five of them, and eleven grandchildren. Her oldest child couldn't have been older than 24, and her youngest had just turned 6. The oldest child at home was 14, and the next oldest was 16- the seven that were age 16 and older each had at least one child, some had two, and one had three. They all lived nearby and almost all of them came each of the three days to sit and watch us build, help cook, or help with the house. The house Adri was living in was basically one large room with sections of board or tin to divide it into sections- there were electrical wires strung through the rafters, two lightbulbs hanging from the ceiling, a small fridge, and a stove/oven. One section had a double bed for Adri and one child, the other had four beds for the rest of the kids. The walls were made of pieces of anything that would keep most of the elements out- a piece of board here, a sheet of tin there, a sheet, a blanket, another board. There was no running water and the bathroom was an outhouse attached to one of the walls of the house.

We spent all of the sunlit hours of three days with Adri's family- there were little kids everywhere at all times, there was constantly a mate being passed around to us as we worked, Adri cooked our lunches with food we brought, and we talked, ate, made jokes, played with all the kids and let them draw on our shirts and our faces, and just generally all had a fantastic time together. That family was a group of some of the most generous people I've ever met in my life. They were very interested in the fact that I was from the US, and I got to talk a lot with Adri about the differences I've seen between life here and there and all that I've learned. The kids asked me how to say more things in English than I can remember, and we taught each other games in both languages- things like "Down by the River" and the hokey pokey and hand-clapping games. It's hard to describe the impact it all had on me- it was so wonderful to just sit and get to know each other, talk about everyday human experiences and problems that we all have no matter where we come from, and share a little bit about where we all came from.

It's hard to explain everything I feel I gained from doing Techo- for now I can say it taught me quite a bit about myself, and it was the best practice with the Spanish language I've had since I got here. I got the chance to build a connection with some amazing people with a lot of wisdom to share, and I realized that putting myself to work participating in projects like Techo is something I need in my life. Working on finding a similar organization to come back and work with for more time sometime the next couple of years.

Another Day, Another Dessert

I am inspired by my friends' more frequent posting action- after all, only 5 weeks left. Today I bought a ticket to visit the bottom of the world!! Yay! Next month, the day after school ends for winter break, I will be flying with Beth to Ushuaia, the southernmost city in the world, in Tierra del Fuego, for a week! Currently looking at hostels to stay in. Ridiculously excited about that. I've also heard that if you wait to book activities until you arrive there, it's a lot cheaper- on our agenda we have some dog sledding and snow-shoeing, sailing the Beagle channel and taking a walk through the national park to see the glaciers, knocking around town enjoying the snow and museums, and probably some cooking and drinking tea/hot chocolate/submarinos in the hostel.

Which reminds me: submarinos. They are amazing, and it appears that I have never mentioned them before, which is crazy. So instead of writing a paper detailing the evolution of tango clothing and shoe style, I give you:

Ode to a Submarino 

O glass of creamy, foamy steamed milk, 

just barely cool enough to sip, 

Your vapors fog my lenses 

As I bring you closer to my lips.

With your bar of rich dark chocolate 

Painting swirly streaks of chestnut hue,

Slowly beginning to diffuse

As I transform you with my spoon,

Melty, frothy, and so worth my cash,

I care not when you give me a milk mustache.

Where once there sat a lonely glass of white

Now rests a vision, if you will, a beacon in the night.

Chocolate, chocolate, milk, milk,

Missing not a single calorie-

Hot chocolate of the porteños,

I have now created thee.

 

Thank you, thank you very much.

"There's a spirit can ne'er be told..."

Hi there, I hope everyone's enjoying the beginning of summer back in the northern hemisphere. Right now down here it's cold, dank, dark, foggy, and drizzly- basically just the kind of weather dementors like to breed in, which means it's time for Claire to eat chocolate. I recommend that you eat some too, and that if you don't understand dementor breeding you get your hands on the Harry Potter series and start reading ASAP.

This morning, despite the rainy and foggy weather, Beth and I struck out to Plaza de Mayo with the intention of buying plane tickets for our trip to Ushuaia (Tierra del Fuego!!!!!) next month. When we got to the Aerolinea Argentina desk, however, we realized that we had never checked ticket prices directly through the airline, and had only looked at the prices on a Kayak/Expedia-type website, and thought we would be able to get the same deal through Aerolineas. Without making it an even longer story, we were basically trying to ensure that we get the discount on airline tickets that comes with being a legal Argentine resident (thank you, student visa). The prices at the desk were about $200 American more (yeah, no.), so we abandoned that endeavor (buying tickets on the website later) and went to get a coffee on the way to class.

On the subway ride from the coffee shop, which in this case was the cafe counter at McDonald's (it's actually really classy here, I promise) a few seats opened up as people got off of the train, and I found myself sitting next to an elderly Argentine woman who was chatting very animatedly with her friend across the aisle. After her friend got off, Beth and I were talking about how many stops away the university was, and the lady next to me said something in what I thought could've been English, but I couldn't tell, so my natural reaction was to say "Cómo?". She told me in Spanish how many more stops there were and which side we would be disembarking on, and she was so sweet that I wasn't even tempted to try to tell her how many times I had ridden the route and how long I had lived here and that I knew the area. (Yes, Claire needs to learn to swallow her pride. I'm not sure why I keep referring to myself in third person- oh well, it's fun.) She asked me where I was from, and when I said the United States, she said in Spanish, "Yeah, I can tell by your accent- I mean what area?" (blast, I have an accent.) and so I told her Texas, the coast, and my home town. I was very surprised to see her give a knowing nod and say that she'd visited my home town.

She asked what university I attend, and I told her Texas A&M. I was even more shocked when she responded to that statement with the Spanish equivalent of "Aha, yup, College Station, huh?" and a very fond, sort of reminiscent smile. I told her what year I was and what I study, and unfortunately I couldn't catch all of what she said because the train was loud and her voice was soft, but she told me that she knows Bryan and College Station very well, knows professors at A&M, and lived in Bryan for a number of years with her husband, who I think she said was a professor of some kind. She had to have been at least 75 years old, and I imagine she lived in Bryan at least 40 years ago. She went on to ask about how Bonfire is done these days and tell me how she had seen the news about the accident in 1999, and how insane the tradition was when she was there and how she couldn't imagine the university without it. She said they used to throw things like desks into it, and old homework assignments. She told me she guessed it's probably very different there now- when she was there they didn't allow many women to enroll. "Fueron muy Aggies," she said. I was too surprised to remember to ask her when and why they had lived in Texas or even what her name was, and by the time the conversation had reached that point, it was time for us to leave the train.

The whole encounter was so completely out of the blue and truly one of the more unique and special moments I've had here, I guess simply because the things Aggies know between each other can't really be explained to anyone who doesn't understand them, and she knew. I wish I had had my Aggie ring on- since we've heard a few reports about increasing crime in the city I haven't been wearing it in public much- a large gold ring is a fairly obvious target. I'm not sure what difference my ring would have made, I think just that since she understood being an Aggie she would've known how important it was. Most of you reading this post probably think all of this is rather silly, but for me it's one of those tiny little amazing experiences I'll never forget. I couldn't really think of the right words or a way to say thank you as we left, so I gave her a kiss on the cheek and said "Gracias, nos vemos". In a city this size it's almost certain that I'll never see her again, and among all the faces everywhere I probably wouldn't recognize her if I did, but I had been feeling homesick the few days previous, and I think meeting her was a hint that someone somewhere knew I needed a breath of fresh air. She was a wonderful thing that met a need in me I couldn't identify and didn't know how to meet for myself. The Twelfth Man doesn't lie when it sings "The Spirit of Aggieland".

Diversify Your Jams

Quick way to make your playlist more international: as you might have guessed, during my time here I have heard and seen elements of Latin American pop culture everywhere. I've adopted a few of the artists as favorites and have loved getting to experience a different kind of entertainment culture from mine. If you're curious about what some of the radio hits down here sound like, here are two of my favorite songs thus far, from opposite ends of the genre/style spectrum, as a sample:

Jesse y Joy, "Corre Corazon"
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QQqHvz_9knA&feature=player_detailpage  
If you're my little sister, Caroline, I recommend this duet- you'll like Joy's voice.

Michel Telo, "Ai Se Eu Te Pego" (Portuguese)
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hcm55lU9knw&ob=av3e

The Other Argentina

Hello, everyone- well, tomorrow will mark three and a half months that I've been in BsAs. Since I will only have spent five months here by the time I leave, three seem to have gone by in no time at all, but at the same time, it feels like I could've been living here forever. A few weeks ago I was lucky enough to get the chance to visit two beautiful areas of the country outside of the capital.

The first trip was to Iguazú Falls, which it turns out is considered one of the seven natural wonders of the world. It was wonderful to get out of the city and into some fresh air for a few days, and I definitely needed it. I had been going stir crazy the week or two leading up to the trip, and I was about ready to try to climb one of the buildings just to get a glimpse of some sky. The first day of the trip we visited a working estancia and had one of the best asados of the trip so far, in my opinion. We got to do about an hour of horseback riding and spent the early afternoon relaxing by the swimming pool that was there for guests next to the grill. Later that day we got to visit 400-year-old ruins from a Jesuit settlement, and then took a three-hour ride in a small bus that was more like a big van and all tried to get some sleep sprawled on each other's laps and leaning on each other's shoulders (Anna, you're the best).

The next day we headed to Iguazú national park and saw the falls, which I can confidently say are the most amazing sight I've seen in my life, to date. The third day we got to visit a Guaraní village- the Guaraní are an indigenous people of the jungle that spans most of Paraguay and spreads into the borders with Brazil and Argentina. Instead of trying to describe all of this, I'm just going to let you see for yourselves- unfortunately even the pictures don't do it justice.

The next weekend, two of my good friends and I took a two-day trip to the city of Córdoba, Argentina's second largest city, which houses the oldest university in the country and the second oldest in all of Latin America (over 400 years old). The hostel we stayed in was a great place with cheap rooms and coffee all day long, the weather was beautiful and cloudy and cold, and it was so nice to experience a different part of the country's culture. A lot of people don't realize that there are so many cultural components to Argentina because Buenos Aires itself is so full of its own culture, and according to the cordobeses, most porteños go to a place like Córdoba and expect it to look like the middle of nowhere because they're so proud of Buenos Aires. It was definitely not the middle of nowhere, and even though it has a population of 2 million, it has a feel that is so much smaller and more open than the capital. We got a great city tour from one of the owners of the hostel, visited the Jesuit crypts and all the oldest Jesuit architecture, and spent the second afternoon walking around the little mountain town of Alta Gracia. We had amazing food the whole trip and took the nicest overnight bus I've ever ridden to and from Córdoba- seats that folded into beds, free toothbrushes, dinner and breakfast, and complementary wine!

 Leandro, our tour guide, giving us some inside perspective on the military dictatorship and the desaparecidos of the '70s and '80s (whose faces are printed on the banners above his head)

Still alive, I promise

Hi there, everyone! I'm sorry there's been such a long break again. School has gotten to be busy and it's been interesting adapting to adding class and homework into the already late lifestyle. This has been one of those weeks when I wonder how I can possibly have been studying Spanish as long as I have when everything that comes out of my mouth sounds so stupid. This is I think the second time I've experienced this general lack of readiness with the language since I've been here, and I'm trying to identify its causes so as to prevent it from catching me again- possibly switching back and forth from English to Spanish so often, and speaking English most of the weekend, maybe just a need for a little change of pace from the city (the group is visiting Iguazú falls this weekend, so yayyy!), I'm not sure. I think a weekend away will help tremendously, and when we get back my goal will be to really take advantage of rediscovering everything that fascinated me so much about BsAs when I first got here, and to go out and find things I still haven't seen- this city is enormous, so there are more than enough to last the rest of my trip, which is already over halfway finished. That is ridiculous!! I feel like I just got here last week, but by this time everything around me is so familiar I also feel like I could already have lived here for years. I do miss certain things about home at certain times, and of course I miss all the people I love at home, but the thought of getting on a plane in this city and walking off of it back into the US is so strange. It will be something of a lifestyle shock, there's no getting around that one.

Anyway though, I hope to be back here sometime in the next few days to tell you that my mind has overcome its rut and I've recovered the powers of speech, and I will be reporting back after that come next week with pictures from las cataratas! Enjoy your Tuesday and until then, chau.

De la vida cotidiana

There are a few very common words and phrases that have come to be my absolute favorites in all of the Spanish language simply because they are so heavily used by porteños, and used in the most porteño ways. Here are second runner-up, first runner-up, and first prize, respectively:

3) "Qué sé yo?"

2) "¡Miravos!"

and the best of them all,

1) "BUENO,...."

3) The first one people generally say to mean the equivalent of something like the English "Who knows?" or "What do I know?". The reason I like it is that when anyone around here says it (particularly my gloriously dramatic Urban Fictions class professor) it of course comes out as the Castellano Rioplatense "Qué sé sho?", and it's accompanied by exaggerated hand gestures, usually something along the lines of the waving or circling of the hand back and forth near the chin or neck, which I believe is generally (maybe?) associated with Italians, with a face that looks something like this:

2) "Ah, Miravos" is used as an expression of mild surprise, sort of along the lines of "Oh, well look at that!" or "You learn something new every day!" It usually comes with a nice interested nod of the head and a politely surprised look in the eyes, like this one:

1) Bueno, the word "bueno", basically the most versatile word, and my favorite, in the entire Spanish language, is used in similar contexts to those which use "well" or "so" or "ok" in English. It is appropriate at the beginning of almost every sentence you can possibly imagine, and it can be said nonchalantly, to fill a gap in conversation, with intentions which can be expressed using the face- "Bueno, que vamos a encontrar para hacer esta noche?" AKA "So, what are we going to do tonight?" (see photo 1), to show skepticism, or to indicate disapproval or criticism- "BUENO, que vamos a hacer con ese conjunto desastroso? ¡Por Dios!" AKA "Well, what in heaven's name are we going to do with that disastrous outfit?" (See photo 2). The word "bueno" is usually pronounced with heavy emphasis on the "BUEN" syllable, with the "o" sort of using the momentum of the first syllable to bounce down a fraction of a pitch lower. Like most of the daily discourse here, it comes out sounding very song-like. The only way I know to describe it is, again, Italian. Basically, think of the classic pronunciation of the Italian "Mama mia", apply the resulting inflection to the three phrases above, and there you have a fairly accurate representation of the sound of Spanish in Buenos Aires.

Two-y-pico weeks later...

I think I jinxed myself by saying I resolved to post more often- the past couple of weeks have been wonderfully busy. Semester classes have started (more on those later), and my family (well, parents and Caroline, the smallest Ellis anyway-story about that to come too) came to visit me and we had a fabulous time! I was able to show them all the places in the city I had most wanted to, and we went nonstop all day long just about every day they were here.

Basically right now I'm trying to re-establish my motivation to post- I got distracted there for a while and then got lazy.  Looking back on my first day here I feel like it's been months and months since I arrived, yet saying I've already been here for two months sounds crazy. After having talked with a few trustworthy sources about my blogger's block, I'm just going to pick my own brain and give my findings to you.

One of the most unexpectedly difficult things about this trip has been finding people who want to speak Spanish. Traveling with an American-based study abroad group means that unless the entire group decides to make a concerted effort not to speak English, chances are your Spanish will not improve and perhaps worsen the more time you spend with the group, or if you don't at the very least balance time in English with time with people who speak Spanish as a first language. Making the effort to actively go and seek out native speakers, speakers who want to speak with you, and enough speaking time that the exposure improves your ability is something that requires new motivation every single day. There are days and moments when finding the motivation can be so difficult that I've gotten discouraged and lost my steam for improving at all.
**
Side note- first world problems, anyone? Seeing people on the street whose chief concerns include trying to round up enough stray coins for one bus fare (about 30 cents American), making sure they find their next meal, or deciding which bench in the park will make the most sheltered spot to spend the night can put my own complaints into perspective pretty quickly.
**
There are lots of people in the city who have a generally Anglo appearance as far as coloring goes, but it's easy enough to spot the features and demeanor of a foreigner if you've been here long enough. Generally I am greeted in English wherever I go until I have the chance to say enough to establish the fact that I speak/understand and prefer to converse in Spanish. I was in and out of moderate to heavy frustration over this for a while, especially the first month I was here, because (in my own head) why did these people keep trying to categorize me as a tourist who doesn't know $@#& and prevent me from reaching my goal?? I live here, thank you very much!! I do my laundry two blocks away and the women at the bakery next door know that my favorite empanada is jamon y queso!!

A few weeks ago-ish, walking to my apartment from the subte stop, I passed the restaurant that's located a few doors down. There's often a waiter standing outside it trying to win over potential diners, and this particular afternoon the designated hustler called "Lady, beautiful! Hello! Special, good deals!" as I walked by, a contrast to the Spanish with which he had called to people walking ahead of me. As I briefly glanced sideways and said "No, gracias", his broken English filled me with ire. Continuing down the sidewalk, though, I took the time to think about it a little more. I am blonde. I have freckles and features and a 5-foot-8-inch body type that are clearly not Latin American. How would this waiter know to identify me as anything but a tourist or someone unfamiliar with the territory and the language, as so many people who look like me would be? He didn't know me, had never heard me say anything, had never seen me put the key into the door of my apartment a few doors down. It was at this point that I came to the acceptance of the fact that no matter how long I stay here, no matter how much porteño slang I know and how many local people I befriend, I will always be "la rubia". I love Latin culture, I love the Spanish language, I love to travel and speak and am gloriously open to new cultural experiences, but alas, I am not a native of the Spanish-speaking world. I am by birth and nature an American. And you know what? I'll own it. Why do anything else with it? I will never stop loving to immerse myself in other cultures and seeing as much of the world as I can, but I accept my own culture as a part of who I am. The United States doesn't have to define me, but it will always be the place I come from, it's the place I'll go back to when this experience is over, and it's my heritage, and I'm perfectly content to say that I appreciate it.

Making a jump back to the language topic, my friend Anna said something encouraging recently about fluency- someone told her during her fall semester in Ecuador that any speaker who can understand what is said to him and make himself understood should consider himself fluent. I guess that means I'm fluent in Spanish. Depending on the situation and my m ood my vocabulary is more ready sometimes than others, but putting some thought into the matter, I realized after she said that that I know absolutely everything I need to know about the language to be able to speak it without a hitch -barring colloquial differences and taking into consideration the fact that my vocabulary will never stop expanding. But it is true that I've known how to navigate through every single situation I've found myself in here so far, and when I've been in public with groups, have saved the lot of us many times from getting lost, missing a destination, not finding the bathroom, or ordering something unappetizing, among other things- kind of cool. I'm excited to see what other adventures I'll find myself having the next few months and where my drive to keep learning takes me.

I'll have more stories for you soon, and I hope everybody is having a wonderful spring up north! The low here two nights ago was 49 degrees F- yikes, not ready for fall yet!

A Brief Tour

Good morning, anyone reading! Sorry for all the space between posts again- I'm resolving to be better after this. It is a beautiful morning in the city, like almost all the mornings I've seen here so far. Even though I've been here a month, I usually wake up and have to take a few seconds to realize where I am, and each time I do the feeling is just as wonderful. I keep having the South American version of Robert August's "Endless Summer" moment ("Hey, Mike! We're in AFRICA!") and I feel incredibly blessed to have the opportunity to experience living here.

Today I'd like to take you on a tour through the things/places I've enjoyed and loved most in Buenos Aires and the little of the rest of Argentina I've seen so far- if you ever decide to plan a trip here, I would recommend these places as must-see.

1) The Recoleta cemetery, park, Cultural Center, and the Basilica Nuestra Señora del Pilar

The building of the basilica was begun in 1716 and finished in 1732 by the Padres Recoletos, a French chapter of the Franciscans. The cemetery was opened in 1822 and houses the graves/ashes of some of the most important families and people in Argentina's history. Eva Peron and Juan Peron both are buried there, as well as Domingo Faustino Sarmiento, one of Argentina's most notable presidents, and Juan Manuel de Rosas, one of the province's most controversial governors, along with many, many more. The vaults in the cemetery increase in grandeur with the status of the families whose bodies they house. Some are simple stone rooms, some are like marble halls complete with sculptures of cherubim or Grecian figures and engraved names of all buried family members. Nearly all of the vaults have glass-paned doors through which you can see the actual coffins or urns holding ashes, and empty shelves that are meant to eventually hold family members still living. It is a fascinating place and in my opinion a bit chilling- completely silent, and like many parts of the city, home to a large tribe of stray cats. The cultural center was once the monastery originally built by the Franciscans, and still houses its original garden (see 1000 Words post). The park surrounding the church and cemetery has one of the best ferias in the city on Saturdays and Sundays. Last Saturday I bought my very first mate there (see below!) and still need to buy yerba to cure it and then use for drinking from it.

2) Buenos Aires Design

BA Design is located in the same park as the cemetery and basilica, but it needs its own separate mention. It is basically a mall entirely devoted to the art of, well, design. It's full of unique shapes, inspiring patterns and color combinations, imported pieces from Italy, and high prices. There are furniture stores, bathroom and kitchen design stores, and one large home accessory store called "Morph" that reminds me quite a bit of what I've heard about Ikea (never actually been there) and has better prices than the more specialized stores. I love walking through it and getting inspiration for my art, feeling textures, smelling new merchandise smell, and taking pictures.

3) El Rosedal de los Bosques de Palermo

The Bosques de Palermo is one of the city's hugest and most amazing parks, and it's located in my barrio (Palermo), only about a mile's walk away. I go there at least a few times a week, and it's one of my favorite running spots. The Rosedal is the rose garden located inside the running/skating track. It's almost completely hidden until you walk into its gates, and it's one of the most beautiful places I've ever visited in my life. It has roses of every breed/size/color you can imagine- pink, red, white, lavender, yellow, pink with yellow-tipped petals, pink with dark pink speckles, scarlet- amazing. If I have time after a run to/through the park I generally like to have a relaxing walk through the garden. It's a great place for reading, photography, couples young and old, and my personal favorite- just sitting and thinking, taking in the sky and the flowers and listening to the breezes playing through the trees and rosebushes.

4) El Río Tigre

Yesterday my study abroad group made an excursion to Tigre, the town by the Tigre river, where we took a ride in a river tour boat, ate some of the richest meat and chorizo I've had yet in a parrilla there, and walked around the Feria de los Frutos, another street fair with a great selection of produce, leather and wood goods, and novelties. We also paid a visit to the art museum, built in the style of a French palace, that used to be the gathering place/playground of the wealthy and well-to-do in the early 20th century. Lots of families live on the river and travel it and its tributaries by boat, and there are a few places good for swimming and sun-bathing. Hopefully I find an opportunity to go back and actually spend some time in the water there.

 5) Palermo Soho

Only about 8 blocks from Marta's apartment, the artsy, young, stylish sector of my barrio, Palermo Soho is an area of a few blocks with some of the best restaurants in BA, some of its most unique shopping, and my favorite weekend feria. The feria in Palermo Soho appears to have some of the better-quality goods that I've seen, and many of the vendors are small business owners who bring a selection of merchandise from their stores in other locations to sell every weekend. I've been infatuated with various pieces of clothing there that I can't quite bring myself to buy, and there is also a fantastic selection of jewelry, leather work, and hair accessories.

BsAs, me encantás

One of the things I have been surprised and delighted by in Buenos Aires is the way people take care of each other here. I'm not only talking about friends and family, but about strangers too- there's a sort of unity in the idea that nobody is unwilling to respect/look out for the well-being of another. Of course, there are a few people everywhere who would take advantage of good intentions, but the vast majority of people here, like people everywhere else, are honestly just living their lives and every now and then need a bit of kindness from a stranger. A few examples: any time a pregnant woman, an elderly person, or anyone who looks to be in bad health gets on a bus, people leave seats immediately and offer them to the person, then stand the rest of the ride. A woman standing next to me on a street corner the other day tapped me on the shoulder and told me the "walk" signal had turned on when I had been distracted looking at my Spanish notebook. One of my first few days here I was waiting in line to buy a few things at a pharmacy and had gotten to the counter, when a man came and tried to put his things on the counter in front of mine- the woman behind me ordered him to go to the back and told the cashier that I was first. The other night when I was riding the bus home, a man got on and was about 15 centavos short to buy a ticket. A girl next to me had 20 and gave it to him, and he gave her the change, said thank you very much, and got where he needed to go.

One of the other things I love about the people here is the way they get to know each other. Most people will ask you questions after only knowing you for a few minutes than many in my culture wouldn't ask after talking to each other for a week. The conversation is very personal, and this might offend or bother some people- it took some getting used to on my part- but I'm enjoying taking it as an opportunity to get to know myself better. They ask you how you feel and how you think, they ask you why you think the things you do and how you came to think them, and they don't do it in a way that's critical or condescending. It's simply so that they can understand better the person you are, and add the understanding to their own perspectives. In the process it challenges you to understand your own perspective, being completely honest with yourself. In my opinion there are few things as important.

Marta

De la playa

Back in the city! My trip to the beach was certainly an interesting and fun few days, and a nice break from the hustle and noise of the capital. Mar del Plata is a small city located on Argentina's eastern coast, about 400 km/250 miles south of Buenos Aires. The difference between the general atmospheres there and here is noticeable almost as soon as you step onto the streets- much more relaxed, less noise and traffic, and none of the intersections have stop lights. Or stop signs. It's basically a free-for-all of drivers who speed down the road, then approach every intersection at about 20-30 mph to check for cross-traffic and screech to a stop just in time to avoid having their bumpers clipped. Unfortunately I forgot to take my camera charger, so I'll have to wait for my friends to upload their pictures, then I'll commandeer some to show you.

The best way to get to somewhere like Mar del Plata from the city is to take a microbus- a bus that holds about 50 people who pay around 300 pesos to sit in its large, cushioned, recline-able "semicama" seats, eat the complimentary snacks the bus line provides, and watch nice, family-friendly (or not) movies like "The Professional", "Taken", and "The Ides of March". Watching unbelievably dramatic things happen and people getting shot isn't exactly what I like to fill ten hours with, so I brought along my iPod. Wait, did I say ten hours? I did indeed. The traffic all the way to Mar del Plata was so heavy that the trip took an extra four hours. We finally stopped at a gas station about seven-and-a-half hours in, thankfully because we were all hungry.

The fourteen of us all shared three hotel rooms for three nights, and it was like a big slumber party. We went to the beach, which was completely packed with people (but not so much that we didn't get sun!) and it was so funny going into the water- people just wade and stand around in it, nobody really swims with a few exceptions, probably because the water there is so cold. With the sun beating down, though, it was quite refreshing. One of the things I really enjoyed about the beach was the wide variety of people and body types and the way that, no matter how a person looked, he or she was there, in his/her own skin and in a swimsuit, having a blast in the waves, completely comfortable. It was truly beautiful, and being there in the midst of it I don't think I've ever felt more beautiful and comfortable in my own skin.

The bus trip back only took about six and a half hours, which seemed downright short after the trip there. All in all it was a great trip- we discovered a great club where there was a cumbia band playing live two nights in a row, spent time soaking up some much-needed sun, ate at the 200-year-old bakery where the Argentine alfajor was born, and made some wonderful new friends.

For now I'll leave you with that story since my eyes refuse to stay open, and hopefully after some sleep will be back to give you more entertainment of better quality than tonight's post. Chau y buenas noches!

Buen Provecho

First of all, happy late Valentine's Day, everyone, and good evening and happy weekend!

I'm sorry about the lack of posts the past six days- between exploring the city, going to school, preparing for my first exam (which was yesterday),  and finding time for running and helping work out my program group's beach trip this weekend, the hours have flown by at an unbelievable pace! The past few days I've begun to know my area of the city much better, and I'm actually starting to feel like this is where I live. I'm living in Buenos Aires, Argentina. How cool is that? The past few days have been sultry, to put it nicely, but last night it rained, complete with thunder and lightning, which made today fresher and the city grateful.

If you have heard anything at all about Argentina, I'm sure you've heard something at some point about the quality of the meat. The tales don't lie. I have had the pleasure of eating good steak once thus far- a tender, juicy filet that had been cooked in malbec-marinated carmelized onion sauce and served with a potato puff pastry. I've also had chorizo (sausage) on two different occasions, one of which was the night recently when I partook of the family-style meat feast you see to your right. The way the chorizo is eaten is the best part about it. Around here, there is a basket of bread on the table at every chorizo meal. Be careful though- if you eat a piece of bread before the meat comes, you've just robbed yourself of a choripán. Choripán is the beautiful marriage of a dinner roll and a piece of chorizo, with chimichurri on top for extra flavor- chorizo + pan (bread)= choripán. I had never had chimichurri before coming to Buenos Aires, but let me tell you, it will forever be in my kitchen after this. Every restaurant or household puts its own unique twist on the recipe, and every one I've tried has been heavenly. They all include an olive oil base with all kinds of smoky, herby flavors, some with a slightly sweet or tart undertone, some more salty than others- basically, if you haven't eaten chimichurri, do it. It's good on everything, I promise. The restaurants that specialize in all kinds of meat-cooking are called parrillas, and the general term for a meat cook-out here is "asado". There is a parrilla generally every block or two on any of the busiest avenues, and so far I've been lucky enough to hit good ones. We'll see what other carnivorous wonders I discover in more of them as the trip progresses.

Another restaurant-related fact- the water here is perfectly drinkable and I fill my bottle from the tap daily, but almost every restaurant will refuse to serve "agua de la canilla" and tell you it's not filtered, it's not good, etc. My friends and I don't eat dinner out often because all of our families eat together at home most nights of the week, but on the Saturdays and special occasions we decide to find a good restaurant, we generally also decide to order a bottle or two of wine. House wine is always very reasonably priced, and when it's split between anywhere from 5 to 10 of us, we can each enjoy a glass or so. So, it follows that when the white wine-drinkers are with us, the wine comes in an ice-filled plastic or metal chiller. We've decided that, since we don't like the idea of spending 10-or-so pesos per bottle to have water with dinner, when we come to moments of great need, we put the melted ice in the wine chiller to good use. We order a few bottles between all of us first, but the combination of the flavors and the heat and humidity make it difficult to sit through a 2-3-hour meal and only drink a glass of water.

Another integral part of the Argentine lifestyle and cultural tradition is yerba mate. Mate is made from a blend of I'm not sure which herbs, but drinking it happens between the closest of friends and loved ones. The mate, dry, is put into the hollowed gourd (also called a "mate") until it nearly reaches the top. Mates are sold in abundance here- usually metal on the inside with an overlay of more metal or wood with a carving or design. After the herbs, the designated water-pourer (cebador) of the group pours hot, steaming water into the cup and lets the mate steep for a few seconds. Using a bombilla (straw) made of metal and with a built-in filter, each person takes the gourd, drinks the entirety of the water in it, and then passes it back to the cebador, who fills it with water for the next person. Everyone in the group takes a turn, each using the same bombilla and mate and a fresh addition of hot water. The flavor of mate takes a little getting used to, but for people who like strong coffee and tea, the result of the mostly-mate-part-water combination is something like a super-concentrated few sips of tea. It is very bitter, and some people like to add sugar, personally I like it plain- it also has enough caffeine to give the drinker a little boost. I'm on the lookout for a good mate spot to hole up and study in once the cooler weather starts to set in.

In other news, I have finally had my first alfajor, and today I was nearly robbed. An alfajor is something like two or three cake or soft cookie disks stacked on top of each other, layered with some kind of filling between, and the whole lot coated in chocolate. Sort of like a Hostess cupcake, only better and x50. The most common fillings are dulce de leche (cajeta if you've had it in Mexico), chocolate or white chocolate cream, or any of the above with peanut butter.  You can find them in any street kiosko (c-store/food stand), and there are too many brands of them to count. The confiterías (bakeries) also home-make them. Last night I decided to pay a visit to the kiosko a few doors down from my building and bought a Milka dulche de leche alfajor. It was delicious, and you can bet I'll be having another one from time to time.

Now to the almost-robbery- today after having gone to the Retiro bus terminal with my study abroad group to buy all our tickets for our trip tomorrow to Mar del Plata, the closest coastal and beach town, we took the subte back to our respective houses. It was one of the most crowded subte rides I've ever had- people packed like sardines and wedged in however they would fit. I wasn't paying much attention to the man who was standing in front of me until he started shifting through the people, acting like he wanted to get off at the next stop. About 10 seconds after he didn't in fact get off, I felt something sliding against my hip through the wall of my purse and looked down to see his hand reaching inside it. I jerked my bag away, and immediately after that we arrived at the next stop and he made a quick exit. The zipper had been closed, my hand over all of it except about two inches, my other arm with my books in it over the purse, and my eyes had been on the purse about 2 seconds before. Thankfully nothing was taken, and although I was shaken a bit, I'm also thankful I was able to learn just how easy it is to become someone's victim in a hectic situation without having to pay a hefty price. I will now be taking even more care than I was before with my belongings. If you ever pay a visit here, remember that the subte is the easiest place to be robbed. Even if it isn't crowded, keep your belongings close to you and under your eyes at all times.

My roommate and I have both had a brush with the pick-pocketers now, so hopefully our household is done with that. I probably won't be posting again for a few days because my group will be leaving for Mar del Plata tomorrow morning and returning on Tuesday, but I'll have more pictures and stories when I do! Have a happy, safe, and restful weekend!

A Thousand Words (x8)

                                                              Obligatory gig 'em

Días Lindos

Good evening, internetz, I hope all of you are well.

Two days ago we started our month of intensive Spanish language classes- after the placement exam I was put into one of the three advanced sections, and so far I'm enjoying it a great lot. My professor's name is Yael and she's quite young and teaches with a very effective yet laid-back style. She's always game for talking about music, life, the city, and anything else you like, and each class does activities with us that give us practice and make all our lessons applicable. Today, for example, after learning how an adjective's meaning can change slightly or greatly depending on which form of "to be" it's used with, we used the adjectives in their proper contexts to describe a famous person to the class, who then guessed the person's name (my group chose Michael Jackson...). The most important part of all this is that it's of course done in Spanish. We do have take-home assignments, but since they're a continuation of yet more practice with the language, homework is just another step toward fluency. It's exciting how much of a difference I'm already noticing in the readiness of my vocabulary and my general ability to say something in the clearest and most effective way possible.

So I'm not sure if any of you is ever planning on making a visit to Buenos Aires or to Argentina, but here are some potentially helpful things I've learned from Yael and from living here for a week (it seems like it's been so much longer!). If you're not planning to visit, hopefully you find them entertaining enough to keep reading this post.

-The words "boludo" and "gordo" might mean "idiot" and "fat", but if a close friend ever calls you one of those things, it's a term of endearment. (Although, as Yael says, the use of "boludo" shouldn't be extended to when you're speaking to your mother.)

-If you're riding the subte (subterraneo--subway), bring a hand fan and a bottle of water. I've never had the pleasure of using a sauna before, but after riding in el subte during the summer months that's one more check mark on my bucket list.

-I've read in almost every blog and website pertaining to the city that porteños are very fashion- and style-conscious. This is sort of true. The real truth is that everybody here wears whatever the hell he or she wants, and everybody else worries about his/her own business and does the same. Lots of people dress fashionably daily, but many don't. If you want to wear cut-offs and a t-shirt to class you won't be getting any snobby stares.

-"Porteño" means "resident or native of the city of Buenos Aires".

-If you value your life much, don't cross the streets/avenues unless the walk sign is on or unless a crowd of other people are crossing safely with you.

-The word "pendejo" (which I'm sure some of you are aware is an extremely vulgar swear word in some countries) means "young/immature/green around the gills" in Argentina. Use it all you want. "Cartel" means "sign". (Como "anuncio" en algunos lugares)

-The night life really does keep at it until 5 or 6, sometimes even 7 in the morning. I have yet to stay out later than around 3:00 (always with a group- never travel alone at night, no matter how safe you've heard the area is), which is when most porteños are just getting their nights started.

- If a host family covers your breakfast and dinner, don't buy lunch at the cafés. Buy bread, cheese, tomatoes, and fresh fruit for great prices at your nearest Coto. Homemade sandwiches are delicious and taste even better when you know the money you're not spending could buy you a bus trip to Patagonia.

- If you plan to skip out on lunch altogether and bring extra fruit from the breakfast table for a midday snack instead, and also skip extra phone minutes, laundry, and all but the cheapest transportation (bus) for about 3-4 weeks, you might find yourself with enough money unspent to buy a round-trip ticket to Cuzco and Machu Picchu. More on this one later.

-Grocery stores don't stock peanut butter. Try a health food store (there's one on almost every street) or one of the stores in Barrio Chino.

-Argentine food is not spicy. If you like comida picante, bring along a bottle of Cholula or Salsa Huichol. Planning on an expedition to Barrio Chino tomorrow to find any condiment made with a healthy amount of chile puree.

Finally, a ustedes les presento el tango. My program group and I had our first tango lesson tonight, which was my first-ever exposure to anything tango-related. We went to Cafe Tortoni, a restaurant famous for over 150 years of representation of the Argentine spirit and culture- steeped, of course, in tango. Watching the dancers on the floor beside our lesson was one of the most beautiful experiences I've ever had. Couples of middle to elderly age, some dressed casually, some with impeccable class, moving as though the dance were a work of art, each step a precise and loving stroke with the brush. This sounds excessively romantic and probably very silly, but it was just so lovely. In spite of careful movement and painstakingly-placed feet, tango and the closeness of the dancers subtly exude a passion unlike anything I've ever felt before. It is elegance in its absolute purest form. I am in love with tango.

Marta Alicia y su Catalina

Tonight I'd like to introduce you to my host mother, Marta Alicia. She is somewhere between the ages of 60 and 70 and she is about 5'2" tall, with short, mostly-grey hair and very kind eyes. She's the kind of person who looks like she could tell you a thing or two about living, but not the sort that feels the need to impress on you how much she knows. She speaks very quickly and very lightly, dropping a few consonants here and there. I often have to ask to hear things again and a bit slower, and she grins and repeats- the few times I just nodded and didn't really understand she saw right through it.

Marta has a subtle sense of humor that I'm enjoying getting to know. At dinner my first night in the apartment she came out with a bowl of salad, the main dish, a bottle of Coca Light (Diet Coke), and another bottle, that looked as though it had been chilling in the freezer, of Russian vodka. I definitely wasn't expecting vodka at the dinner table of a semi-elderly woman and well, if we're discussing liquor preference I personally would rather have tequila, but who was I to judge her taste in liquor or her dining habits? Luis (the Brazilian student who studied here spring semester and left today) didn't look surprised or amused, so I assumed it was just her dose of relaxation after a long day. We all had Coca with dinner and she had a small amount of vodka afterward. The next night I must've been unable to hide my look of surprise when she poured a rather full glass, because Luis laughed and told me it was only filtered tap water. Duh, Claire. He said on his first night last spring she poured a full glass, drained it all at once, and then bet him he couldn't do the same. He was awed.

She has four children, all of whom have children of their own, and when we asked to see pictures of all of them last night she was very happy to oblige. There's a particularly beautiful picture, in black and white, of her holding her oldest daughter, who was a toddler at the time. Marta said it was taken when she was thirty ("y cuando era flaca"-"back when I was thin"), but she doesn't look much older than I am. She's no longer married, and I think host mom is her full-time title these days.

The other occupant of the apartment aside from foreign visitors is Marta's cat, Catalina, who is about thirteen years old. My first night, a few minutes after I arrived and sat on my bed for the first time, she jumped up, made sure my computer, books, and bag smelled acceptable, and then placed herself in my lap and looked up at me, clearly expecting petting. Once I started scratching her head she purred loudly and then proceeded to drool on my keyboard. She enjoys sleeping on her back on the sofa with her head upside-down under cushions, and when I came home from a night out with friends two days ago looked up at me disapprovingly from her perch in the middle of the kitchen table. I expect that Catalina and I will enjoy each other.

Al Comienzo...

This is the beginning of my third day in Buenos Aires, and my emotions thus far have ranged from ecstatic to homesick to frustrated to peaceful to "enamorada con la vida" to frustrated again to awestruck/enraptured, rinse and repeat.

 Day 1

Taking off from Houston on Wednesday the three of us (I, Beth, and Stephanie- you'll know them better later I'm sure) made a pact not to utter another word of English except when absolutely necessary. That went well for the most part, and when we arrived at Aeropuerto Ezeiza at noon the next day, we were of course excited and ready to take the world by storm. Customs went smoothly minus the moment when I told the official taking forms that I didn't know the exact number of my address here in the city because I had forgotten to copy it down from the email it came in, I only knew that I was on some street called "Santa Fe." But then, after a few minutes of discussion during which I had to ask her to repeat too many things (lesson #1- ears trained for the very regular rhythm of Mexican Spanish can't quite distinguish words as clearly upon early exposure to the song-like inflections of the porteños) she decided I wasn't worth the trouble and let me go ahead anyway.

The three of us were an entertaining gringa sight as we picked our bags up off the luggage belt- Stephanie's and Beth's large over-50-lb suitcases, two each, my one humongous and overweight portable closet that looked like I'd stuffed several members of my family in to take along for the ride. Outside baggage claim we met Raúl, our program director, who greeted us with our first traditional Argentine single-cheek kisses. Small man though he is, he insisted absolutely on heaving our biggest and fullest luggage cart all the way to the waiting van, and loading the suitcases inside himself with some help from the driver (palabra del día- "pesado").

The city is enormous and full of so many interesting sights I couldn't stop turning my head from one window to the other, trying to see as much as possible. Each barrio (neighborhood) has its own distinct feel, and so far I've found places that remind me of New York (mainly the Recoleta area and my own, Palermo), Puerto Vallarta, and even Dublin. Very much a melting pot of everything and every type of person you could possibly imagine, which is wonderfully and constantly fascinating. We took Beth and Stephanie to their host mother's house in Recoleta, and then drove over to my host mom's apartment in Plaza Italia, Palermo. I surprised myself with the quality of my Spanish in the airport and on the ride through town talking with Raúl, but all of a sudden, and of course the moment we reached my host mother's house, my brain switched into overload mode. I guess the three hours of sleep and ten-hour flight had caught up with me, and I could hardly remember how to say "Can I have a glass of water?". Marta (my host mom) showed me to my room (temporary until the Brazilian student who's been staying spring semester left the one meant for me and my roommate, who arrives later today), and due to the lack of sleep and windows in the room, the sight of my enormous suitcase waiting to be unpacked, and the thought of not being able to reach Beth or Stephanie until I learned the bus or subway system, I was hit by more homesickness than I've felt since the last day of summer camp when I was ten, and promptly sat and cried. Lesson #2- familiar smells can give amazing relief to homesickness. Anything- perfume, hair product, facial moisturizer, leather shoes, shoving your face into your suitcase under all the clothes and taking a whiff of the leftover smell of home (not that I did anything like that of course)- they have miraculous comforting powers.

A long walk and sit in the botanical garden across the street from mi apartamento also worked wonders- it's full of stray cats and a great place to sketch, learn about all its plants, have lunch or a good conversation with someone, or just sit and watch people go by, which is what I opted to do. I understood perfectly (score team Claire) when the guard walked by and told me that the garden was closing in five minutes, and to get to the entrance on Avenida Sta. Fe by walking back around the greenhouse and to the right, and went back home for some much-needed conversation with friends via Facebook and dinner Argentine- and Marta-style. Most Argentines eat around 9:00 at night, and if an Argentine ever tells you the same, bear in mind "9:00" translates roughly to 9:45-10:15. Marta is an excellent cook, and encourages anyone at the table to eat as much as he or she wants ("Vos querés más? Hay otro plato en la heladera."), and so far makes things that are very light, fresh, and healthy- three qualities I'm more than OK with in a dinner.

Unfortunately for some reason the photo upload function isn't finding all my JPG files, so once I figure that out I'll have some pictures for you, but for now more on the rest of the first few days later. At the moment I have a suitcase that's only half unpacked, so my next task is to tackle the rest of that monster, and then enjoy a day of walking around the city and garden and getting to know my roommate, Sarah. Ciao y que tengan buen fin de semana!

Up, up, and away

Hello there! Well, this is the first blog post I've ever written in my life- I feel obligated to fill up some of the blank space on my lonely little page. I'm sitting in the Houston airport right now with my two Aggie friends waiting to board the plane that will take me three time zones away (glad for a small time change) and into the unknown. I've been preparing for this trip for months and now that it's here I feel like I've never been more unprepared for anything. I have to say though, it is nice to have no worries until I have no choice but to dive in head-first. Whoops, it's time to board now, so I'm off to sit for ten hours during which I'll hopefully also sleep at some point. Ciao y hasta pronto.