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.
Tuesday, February 28, 2012
Friday, February 24, 2012
Thursday, February 23, 2012
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!
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!
Friday, February 17, 2012
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!
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!
Saturday, February 11, 2012
Wednesday, February 8, 2012
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.
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.
Sunday, February 5, 2012
Marta Alicia y su Catalina
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.
Saturday, February 4, 2012
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!
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!
Wednesday, February 1, 2012
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.
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