It finally hit me. I am in Argentina. Amazing.
After 3 months of wondering who i am and what i am doing here, i finally just realized i am in Argentina and i am happy to be here. I am happy here.
I was going to bed last night, going through my routine, it had just started to rain outside and i realized how familiar everything was around me. I am even used to not understanding half the stuff people are saying to me.
But it is more than just finally finding a comfort zone in Argentina; it is wanting to find more comfort zones. It is like now that i have my comfort zone I want to go and explore every uncomfortable place in the city and make it comfortable.
I am finally ready to study abroad. And i leave in less than 2 months.
But, let me tell you, it is going to be a great last 2 months.
Wednesday, October 31, 2007
Tuesday, October 30, 2007
Electiones, Yeah!....what i can't get a drink!
Sunday was election day for Argentina. Which meant for me, no drinks on Saturday.
Yes you read right. The day before elections in Argentina, no one is allowed to sell liquor and dance clubs are closed. This is suppose to make all those reckless Argentine voters suddenly sober up and think seriously about the power of one vote.
But seriously, it does help to seta tone of importance to the elections, even if it is only the illusion of importance.
Every single Argentine has known for months that Cristina Kirchner would win the election, and win she did with 46% of the vote, 1% more than she needed to guarantee there would be no run off.
So let me explain this clearly and slowly because it took me 2 days and 2 people plus the NY Times to understand: 1. a candidate needs 45% of the vote to win the election or 40% of the vote with a gap of more than 10% between him/her and the next candidate 2. if neither occurs there is a runoff election between the two top runners.
But that is a mute point since Cristina slaughtered her competition- like everyone said she would, even those who opposed her.
What I guess stuck me about the elections is how even though it seemed so predestined, Argentina seemed still seemed so passionate about the elections
Yet maybe that passion is an illusion too. Voting is not a choice in Argentina it is the obligation of a citizen, with a supposed penalty attached for not completing the duty.
Illusion or not, Argentina successfully got almost all of its population to vote and the majority voted with passion. It is something the United States has not accomplished since the 18th century when only white, property owning men could vote.
Sorry to say it grandma :) but maybe the United States should take a page from Argentina, force the vote and ban liquor. Oh wouldn't dad be happy with that.
Yes you read right. The day before elections in Argentina, no one is allowed to sell liquor and dance clubs are closed. This is suppose to make all those reckless Argentine voters suddenly sober up and think seriously about the power of one vote.But seriously, it does help to seta tone of importance to the elections, even if it is only the illusion of importance.
Every single Argentine has known for months that Cristina Kirchner would win the election, and win she did with 46% of the vote, 1% more than she needed to guarantee there would be no run off.
So let me explain this clearly and slowly because it took me 2 days and 2 people plus the NY Times to understand: 1. a candidate needs 45% of the vote to win the election or 40% of the vote with a gap of more than 10% between him/her and the next candidate 2. if neither occurs there is a runoff election between the two top runners.
But that is a mute point since Cristina slaughtered her competition- like everyone said she would, even those who opposed her.
What I guess stuck me about the elections is how even though it seemed so predestined, Argentina seemed still seemed so passionate about the elections
Yet maybe that passion is an illusion too. Voting is not a choice in Argentina it is the obligation of a citizen, with a supposed penalty attached for not completing the duty.
Illusion or not, Argentina successfully got almost all of its population to vote and the majority voted with passion. It is something the United States has not accomplished since the 18th century when only white, property owning men could vote.
Sorry to say it grandma :) but maybe the United States should take a page from Argentina, force the vote and ban liquor. Oh wouldn't dad be happy with that.
Saturday, October 27, 2007
3 screaming chidren, 1 perfect picture and no camera
It was one of those days where the only thing missing was my camera.
My camera could have captured Inaquis jumping down the decaying stairs to the river, brightly colored graffiti decorating the fence behind him.
My camera could have captured Maite closing her eyes and walking through the dangling branches of the budding trees, letting the leaves brush her sun-colored cheeks.
My camera could have captured the mountain of meat set before the salivating mouths three hungry children.
My camera could have captured the one rare moment of affection when Gustavo put his hand lightly on Angles's back and kissed her cheek.
My camera could have captured the perfect day in Tigre, a small town just outside of Buenos Aires. It would have captured the first time i felt like i had family in Buenos Aires, from scolding fighting children to being scolded for not wearing shoes in the kitchen, from laughing at stupid jokes to drying over tired tears, Tigre was just what i needed.
A trip to the tree lined river of Tigre, revived my tired spirit. The flow of the water, the tranquility of the people, the life of the sun made me see the possibility of the next two months in Buenos Aires; two months not leading to an end but to the beginning of a new view of life.
Today I didn't have my camera to capture the perfect day, but maybe that is better. Pictures would have shown the reality of the day; how the trees were just trees, not green bursting life; how the graffiti was just graffiti, not bright bleeding passion; how the water was just water, not a new flow to the world.
I prefer to keep the perfect precious moments in my memory.
I prefer to believe that for one day the city of contradictions was perfect.
My camera could have captured Inaquis jumping down the decaying stairs to the river, brightly colored graffiti decorating the fence behind him.
My camera could have captured Maite closing her eyes and walking through the dangling branches of the budding trees, letting the leaves brush her sun-colored cheeks.
My camera could have captured the mountain of meat set before the salivating mouths three hungry children.
My camera could have captured the one rare moment of affection when Gustavo put his hand lightly on Angles's back and kissed her cheek.
My camera could have captured the perfect day in Tigre, a small town just outside of Buenos Aires. It would have captured the first time i felt like i had family in Buenos Aires, from scolding fighting children to being scolded for not wearing shoes in the kitchen, from laughing at stupid jokes to drying over tired tears, Tigre was just what i needed.
A trip to the tree lined river of Tigre, revived my tired spirit. The flow of the water, the tranquility of the people, the life of the sun made me see the possibility of the next two months in Buenos Aires; two months not leading to an end but to the beginning of a new view of life.
Today I didn't have my camera to capture the perfect day, but maybe that is better. Pictures would have shown the reality of the day; how the trees were just trees, not green bursting life; how the graffiti was just graffiti, not bright bleeding passion; how the water was just water, not a new flow to the world.
I prefer to keep the perfect precious moments in my memory.
I prefer to believe that for one day the city of contradictions was perfect.
Thursday, October 25, 2007
Empaparse
Empaparse= to get drenched
The storm today came fast and severe. From grey clouds and a chilly wind to sheets of rain pouring down on my head, Argentina dumped itself on me for 15 minutes of pure storm.
At first i put up my hood, looked down and tried not to slip on the marble sidewalks. I "gracefully" jumped from one kiosk to the next trying to preserve one inch of dry skin.
Then a bus passed, splashing the dirty rain water onto my once-semi-dry pants. Then it was all over.
There is a point when you lose that last inch of dry skin and you throw in the towel; that point where you just want to take off all your clothes, let the rain soak every inch of your skin, until the adjective dry doesn't even seem to exist in your vocabulary anymore.
I hit that point today in the middle of Rodriquez Pena. Argentina has drenched me to the point where the words dry, normal, comfort and home don't exist anymore.
Today i am just a drenched naked girl dancing in the middle of Recoleta.
The storm today came fast and severe. From grey clouds and a chilly wind to sheets of rain pouring down on my head, Argentina dumped itself on me for 15 minutes of pure storm.
At first i put up my hood, looked down and tried not to slip on the marble sidewalks. I "gracefully" jumped from one kiosk to the next trying to preserve one inch of dry skin.
Then a bus passed, splashing the dirty rain water onto my once-semi-dry pants. Then it was all over.
There is a point when you lose that last inch of dry skin and you throw in the towel; that point where you just want to take off all your clothes, let the rain soak every inch of your skin, until the adjective dry doesn't even seem to exist in your vocabulary anymore.
I hit that point today in the middle of Rodriquez Pena. Argentina has drenched me to the point where the words dry, normal, comfort and home don't exist anymore.
Today i am just a drenched naked girl dancing in the middle of Recoleta.
The Hump
Don't freak grandma. I'm not referring to my "humps" or my "milkshake" or any other cheesy fergie metaphor for women's body parts. It is not that kind of a blog.
I'm talking about the mid-week hump, the hump day. I talking about wednesdays; that mid-week day when you know you are already half way through the week but yet seem to be only half way through; when you can look back and see that monday and tuesday flew by but friday still seems unreachable; that day when you seem stuck in the middle of coming and going.
This week is a never ending wednesday.
Really i am having a mid-trip crisis; like a mid-life crisis except in castellano and a sports car won't fix it. After one amazing vacation, i am wondering what i am doing here in Argentina.
It is more than just a fleeting thought. I dwell on the question (really un monton de questions) for hours. Why did i originally want to come to argentina? why i am i here now? what do i want/need to do before i go home? How can it be there are so many things i want to do before i leave and yet most of the time i just want to go home?
It is the hump. That point where you realize you are halfway in and halfway out, stuck with not enough time to do what you want and too much time to just take a nap.
But damn, I am just so tired. A nap would be perfect right now.
"There is a light at each end of the tunnel, you shout because you're just as far in as you will ever be out." -Anna Nalick
I'm talking about the mid-week hump, the hump day. I talking about wednesdays; that mid-week day when you know you are already half way through the week but yet seem to be only half way through; when you can look back and see that monday and tuesday flew by but friday still seems unreachable; that day when you seem stuck in the middle of coming and going.
This week is a never ending wednesday.
Really i am having a mid-trip crisis; like a mid-life crisis except in castellano and a sports car won't fix it. After one amazing vacation, i am wondering what i am doing here in Argentina.
It is more than just a fleeting thought. I dwell on the question (really un monton de questions) for hours. Why did i originally want to come to argentina? why i am i here now? what do i want/need to do before i go home? How can it be there are so many things i want to do before i leave and yet most of the time i just want to go home?
It is the hump. That point where you realize you are halfway in and halfway out, stuck with not enough time to do what you want and too much time to just take a nap.
But damn, I am just so tired. A nap would be perfect right now.
"There is a light at each end of the tunnel, you shout because you're just as far in as you will ever be out." -Anna Nalick
Saturday, October 20, 2007
So Brasil
17 Oct. 2007
We almost got stranded in Rio. When we bought tickets for our return trip to Sao Paulo yesterday the sales woman gave us tickets for 10/16 instead of 10/17. Two brasilian men were very confused to find two American girls in their seats.
When we explained to the lady we needed to get on the bus to catch our flight she just shrugged her shoulders and was like "Yup, shit happens."
So Brasil!
I can't even remember how many times i have heard: "that is just how we do it in Brasil," as if that is an excuse for drunk driving, bad pick-up lines or bus ticket errors.
Luckily there were two more open seats on the bus and we got to Sao Paulo. WE are now standing in line with a bunch of portenos saying "che boludo." I only understand every other word they are saying. The check-in people are an hour late.
That is so Argentine.
I am irked and just want to get on my plane.
That is so American- excuse me I mean norteamericano.
We almost got stranded in Rio. When we bought tickets for our return trip to Sao Paulo yesterday the sales woman gave us tickets for 10/16 instead of 10/17. Two brasilian men were very confused to find two American girls in their seats.
When we explained to the lady we needed to get on the bus to catch our flight she just shrugged her shoulders and was like "Yup, shit happens."
So Brasil!
I can't even remember how many times i have heard: "that is just how we do it in Brasil," as if that is an excuse for drunk driving, bad pick-up lines or bus ticket errors.
Luckily there were two more open seats on the bus and we got to Sao Paulo. WE are now standing in line with a bunch of portenos saying "che boludo." I only understand every other word they are saying. The check-in people are an hour late.
That is so Argentine.
I am irked and just want to get on my plane.
That is so American- excuse me I mean norteamericano.
Rio de Janiero: Check
16 Oct. 2007
We did Rio. And by "did" I mean we got there, experienced teh city and didn't get robbed.
WE were tourists in the finest sense of the word. WE took the cable car to Pao de Azucar. WE climbed Corcovado. WE strolled the beaches of Cococabana and Impenema. WE saw Rio through rose-colored tourist sunglasses. WE saw the beauty Rio lays at the feet of her tourists. In our cococabana cove we were sheltered from 4/5 of Rio and all the not-so-beautiful of Brasil.
Well almost sheltered. Walking back from the beach two scrawny teenage boys tried to get us to give them our cameras. One showed Sarah a bullet between his teeth. WE shooed them away but remained slightly shaken by the brazen attempt at robbery in broad daylight on a crowded beach. We had a day and a half of beauty in Rio and 20 seconds of ugly that will always be part of Rio in our memories.
But beyond the beauty and ugly of Brasil, we saw the beauty and ugly in ourselves and each other.
I learned I can let go although i would rather not.
Letting go is part of knowing and trusting yourself and others.
Letting go is trusting you will end up where you need to be; trusting where you need to be is where you want to be.
I also learned that tempers and hair get ugly after 5 days of no sleep.
We did Rio. And by "did" I mean we got there, experienced teh city and didn't get robbed.
WE were tourists in the finest sense of the word. WE took the cable car to Pao de Azucar. WE climbed Corcovado. WE strolled the beaches of Cococabana and Impenema. WE saw Rio through rose-colored tourist sunglasses. WE saw the beauty Rio lays at the feet of her tourists. In our cococabana cove we were sheltered from 4/5 of Rio and all the not-so-beautiful of Brasil.
Well almost sheltered. Walking back from the beach two scrawny teenage boys tried to get us to give them our cameras. One showed Sarah a bullet between his teeth. WE shooed them away but remained slightly shaken by the brazen attempt at robbery in broad daylight on a crowded beach. We had a day and a half of beauty in Rio and 20 seconds of ugly that will always be part of Rio in our memories.But beyond the beauty and ugly of Brasil, we saw the beauty and ugly in ourselves and each other.
I learned I can let go although i would rather not.
Letting go is part of knowing and trusting yourself and others.
Letting go is trusting you will end up where you need to be; trusting where you need to be is where you want to be.I also learned that tempers and hair get ugly after 5 days of no sleep.
Headed to Rio
15 Oct. 2007
Right now i am on a shaky crowded bus that smells like sweat. I am headed towards a city of millions with a reputation of crime and beauty. A city i can't communicate with, a city that can only shout back strange yet familiar words back at me.
I have to admit, I am scared, terrified. This is far from my comfort zone.
Yet I look out of the window and i see starts for the first time in months. Orion looks beautiful. And then i remember the beauty of this trip. The beauty of being 22, traveling Brasil with but a backpack. The beauty of being young and foolish; the beauty of taking a trip that opens my eyes to all my foolishness and the foolishness of others and still allows me to see the beauty.
Right now i am on a shaky crowded bus that smells like sweat. I am headed towards a city of millions with a reputation of crime and beauty. A city i can't communicate with, a city that can only shout back strange yet familiar words back at me.I have to admit, I am scared, terrified. This is far from my comfort zone.
Yet I look out of the window and i see starts for the first time in months. Orion looks beautiful. And then i remember the beauty of this trip. The beauty of being 22, traveling Brasil with but a backpack. The beauty of being young and foolish; the beauty of taking a trip that opens my eyes to all my foolishness and the foolishness of others and still allows me to see the beauty.
In the middle of a Dr. Seuss book
14 Oct. 2007
Brasil. I am in Brasil. I have been in Brasil for 3 days.
It is hot here but it smells fresh.
It is scary but exhilarating.
It is a place i never thought i would be but a place i know i want to be right now.
I came Brasil for a wedding but instead i find myself in the middle of Dr. Seuss: Oh the places you will go. "It's opener there in the wide open air."
I have traveled from the piss-smelling streets of Sao Paulo to the hot-dry air of Belo Horizonte to a 80's style church in Ipatinga to the cobble-stoned streets of Ouro Preto and now onto the
infamous Rio.
I have seen monks in the bus terminal, joggers with fanny packs, nervous fiances, happy newlyweds, Brazilian boys trying to be American and unfortunately succeeding, beggar children, poodles with pink booties and friends you can only say goodbye to because you promise to "see each other soon."
I have felt exhausted, terrified, annoyed, excited, alive and happy.
I have danced like a fool, cried tears of happiness, ate condensed milk ice cream, smelt vomit on a sickening 4-hour bus ride, clutched the seat of a miniature car as it flew around 90 degree corners and seriously doubted the decency of mankind.
And that is just the first three days.
Brasil. I am in Brasil. I have been in Brasil for 3 days.
It is hot here but it smells fresh.
It is scary but exhilarating.
It is a place i never thought i would be but a place i know i want to be right now.
I came Brasil for a wedding but instead i find myself in the middle of Dr. Seuss: Oh the places you will go. "It's opener there in the wide open air."
I have traveled from the piss-smelling streets of Sao Paulo to the hot-dry air of Belo Horizonte to a 80's style church in Ipatinga to the cobble-stoned streets of Ouro Preto and now onto the
infamous Rio.I have seen monks in the bus terminal, joggers with fanny packs, nervous fiances, happy newlyweds, Brazilian boys trying to be American and unfortunately succeeding, beggar children, poodles with pink booties and friends you can only say goodbye to because you promise to "see each other soon."
I have felt exhausted, terrified, annoyed, excited, alive and happy.
I have danced like a fool, cried tears of happiness, ate condensed milk ice cream, smelt vomit on a sickening 4-hour bus ride, clutched the seat of a miniature car as it flew around 90 degree corners and seriously doubted the decency of mankind.
And that is just the first three days.
Tuesday, October 9, 2007
Reluctant Tour Guide
After spending the last 5 days being a tour guide I realized how much being a tourist in Buenos Aires would suck.
Everyday for the past 5 days we have run around trying to experience BsAs through a series of museums, ferias and restaurants and yet non of this sight-seeing is BsAs- it is just what BsAs wants you to see, not what it is.
BsAs is a city of contradictions that can't be understood in a week. It is a city whose false European front can easily be seen deteriorating from the naked tourist eye but whose passion and life underneath that facade only shines rarely... on odd number days... when it storms. ..maybe.
It is a city I am honestly happy to be living in because after being tour guide and hating it, I feel like I have begun to appreciate everything non-touristy about the city; like BsAs and i now have an inside joke; like only we know the true city.
I love the ferias, the restaurants are ricismo and the museums...well they could use some work...but what i really love are Inaquis' cheesy jokes, the old ladies complaining about incense in my yoga class and explaining Hooters to the kids at my UBA class.
I really love the passion and life of BsAs...even if it is cursi.
Everyday for the past 5 days we have run around trying to experience BsAs through a series of museums, ferias and restaurants and yet non of this sight-seeing is BsAs- it is just what BsAs wants you to see, not what it is.
BsAs is a city of contradictions that can't be understood in a week. It is a city whose false European front can easily be seen deteriorating from the naked tourist eye but whose passion and life underneath that facade only shines rarely... on odd number days... when it storms. ..maybe.
It is a city I am honestly happy to be living in because after being tour guide and hating it, I feel like I have begun to appreciate everything non-touristy about the city; like BsAs and i now have an inside joke; like only we know the true city.
I love the ferias, the restaurants are ricismo and the museums...well they could use some work...but what i really love are Inaquis' cheesy jokes, the old ladies complaining about incense in my yoga class and explaining Hooters to the kids at my UBA class.
I really love the passion and life of BsAs...even if it is cursi.
Sunday, October 7, 2007
Not what i expected
New hair cut
hair cuts, dipilacion and house parties.
yesterday i learned to appreciate what i experienced even if it was a far cry from what i expected or what i thought i wanted.
I think this is how i want to live my life. Making plans (because i will always make plans and excel spread sheets) but then enjoying the twists and turns or complete deviation from the plan.
It is not plans that are bad, without a plan i wouldn't be in Argentina. It is the lack of flujo with plans written in stone. So from now on i write all my plans in pencil and carry a giant eraser.
Friday, October 5, 2007
Finding Home
I have been searching for 2 months now in vain to find comfort and home in Buenos Aires. But the city always seemed too cold, too rushed, and too inconsiderate to ever call home.
But today rushing through the fat, cold drops of rain to the Brazilian Consulate, then maneuvering through old ladies with over sized umbrellas to the bank and then trying to stay amiable once again with the rudest of Argentina at the consulate; today, a day filled with everything cold, rushed and inconsiderate of Argentina; today i found home in Argentina.
Because today Sarah was running through rain laughing at the soaking wet girl with a white shirt and white bra. Sarah was here to agree that Argentina needs umbrella courtesy laws such as if you have an umbrella don't walk under the over hang. Sarah was there to call the Brazilian consulate lady a beast when we were both thinking of a different word.
It is cheesy but true. Home isn't where you are put who you are with.
Oh and to the Brazilian Consulate: you sucks, you stole my day and $130.
But I got over it with a bottle of wine, empanadas and dulce de batata.
But today rushing through the fat, cold drops of rain to the Brazilian Consulate, then maneuvering through old ladies with over sized umbrellas to the bank and then trying to stay amiable once again with the rudest of Argentina at the consulate; today, a day filled with everything cold, rushed and inconsiderate of Argentina; today i found home in Argentina.
Because today Sarah was running through rain laughing at the soaking wet girl with a white shirt and white bra. Sarah was here to agree that Argentina needs umbrella courtesy laws such as if you have an umbrella don't walk under the over hang. Sarah was there to call the Brazilian consulate lady a beast when we were both thinking of a different word.
It is cheesy but true. Home isn't where you are put who you are with.
Oh and to the Brazilian Consulate: you sucks, you stole my day and $130.
But I got over it with a bottle of wine, empanadas and dulce de batata.
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