Co

I think the point of life is communication. Or just Co-.

una huelga más...

"Huelga": strike.
The Subte workers decide to quit sometimes, such as today. It leaves the city of 12 million people in a bit of a lurch. The cars on days like these are allowed to park literally anywhere in the streets--some streets are 3 rows of parked-cars wide. After riding the colectivo (profoundly crowded bus) for an hour to school, passing the same pedestrians and watching them again pass me, i decided it would be faster to walk. Adventuresome. Very legitimate excuse to be late to class.

La Buenasuerte

What the heck?!?! So we were assigned this novel in class, and the awesome author actually took time to come into our class to take our botched interview questions and talk about his writing to 15 foreign students who probably misunderstood half the cultural references and missed some blatantly obvious elements. I hope we didn't put the book too much to shame. God bless ya, courageous man haha. I loved the book in the first place, and he was just a really cool, eloquent (of course), normal guy who spoke about his 28 years living in the villas outside Buenos Aires. The villas are extremely poor areas, where the people live on free land given by the government. He went to the facultad (the University that's free for all Argentines) and obviously got a huge education. We asked how he got started writing, and he mentioned that he had tried his hand at mechanical engineering....then wanting to perform guitar at a conservatory....then history and literature....and for your information, it is NOT easy for the Argentines to change their major. If they're 3 years in and have a change of heart, it's back to square numero uno. This guy, Juan Diego, began writing by imitating Borges--and on the side, writing a magazine at school that accounted silly anecdotes of his friends and daily stories about his villa. His amigos told him to quit the Borges stuff and go with his natural flow, which has turned out to be pretty brilliant. He loves to crank the volume up to max when he writes (wow that's a first). Each chapter of his book had a little different lyrical lilt to it...quite possibly owed to the songs played at their moment of creation. Looks like a great secret, folks. His idol is Mark Twain, for his ability to dig right to the heart of small details in a single character's daily life that as a whole account the entire essence of the culture. Juan Diego's philosophy is to describe the tiny in order to create an amalgamation of the general--the general never reveals the details, but the details always shed light on the grand scheme. In this way he's been pretty revolutionary in writing such anecdotes about the grit of life in the villas. He sells rings on the side in the evenings at the plaza.

I ran into him in the hallway during our break-time. I commented on something on his blog and he asked me if i had a blog he could read (what a "vergüenza"!-shame). I'm considering it ha. Then we got to talking about bands--a favorite theme of his. He ALSO likes the Police (YESSSS) and asked me what other names i knew so he could download them. His taste is along the lines of folky-harmonica-Bob-Dillon, chill Indie, and punk. Interesting mixture. I couldn't contribute much (everyone who knows me surely knows i am the world's worst candidate for naming bands) and he ended up with suggestions from the whole class on our favorite music. What a real guy, right? Such buenasuerte--we felt so lucky have a cool famous smart artsy author show up to our little class.

I'm sorry, Juan Diego, if any of this "bio" is terribly off. I chalk it up to the foreignness, where missing a "no" in a sentence can make for a wildly different meaning. I think your "buena onda" (good vibe) got translated.

Oh Luisa.

Best 60-year-old-host-Mom quote of the day: "Look at all those naked boys on T.V. How cool...."

Sorry i haven't really been writing guys. Just thought i'd throw you that little bone.

Bikram

The one and only Bikram Yoga studio in all of Argentina happened to open 2 1/2 months ago near my apartment. The director is from North America and gives the classes in a "gracioso" (laughable) accent that is wayyyy worse than mine so i get the benefit of a self-esteem boost AND exercise during class. But really, today was my first stab at this and it is one of the physically most challenging things i've ever done. The room is 42° C, in Farenheit i have no idea. Look it up. It's wicked hot. This place has a masochistic promo going on where if you buy one class, you get 6 for free. As long as you do them consecutive days. Ahhh. My body has literally changed after one listen ONE day and is already soooooore all over. We walk out of the little hell room looking literally like we had been in a water aerobics class. And it takes so much concentration--all the way around this weird activity is surprisingly awesome. i slept so little last night, had a scary midterm that entailed thousands of pounds of brainpower, went to that yoga thing twice, and am feeling sharp and full of energy at 1am. it was like a drug. Yoga is "el único ejercicio que te da energía," the only exercise that actually gives you energy. WTF, the secret to add more hours in the day!!!!

Daylight No Savings

Argentina just canceled daylight savings time. That pretty much sums up the rhythm of life here.

Rojas + last day

My baller teacher and his free spirit. I am obsessed, obviously. Here he is painting a 3-story mural on the wall of the historical Rojas Cultural Center....and letting his little class do the same....apparently he has some clout. This guy is SO encouraging and patient and a great mix of laid-back/intense. Back at the "taller," (workshop), we are experimenting with controlling our aerosol line. This is so outside of any medium i've worked with, and it is HARD. I wanted to take a picture of all our past work but Maestro Alfredo rescued us before we wandered over there and got robbed. Kind of a sketchy area:) And....here we are in the paper! It's basically a story about the workshop he runs. Will you look at the Stache?? His name would be Alfredo.

And HERE is an even better description of everything this amazing cultural center does: http://galponesdearte.blogspot.com/ You will like it if you can read Spanish. If you cannot read Spanish you will like the pretty pictures.

Día de los Estudiantes

What a brilliant idea! A day to honor students, on which there is no school but rather parties in the park instead. Also happens to be the first day of spring. We watched La Bamba show off their famous drum talent at a concert, danced with some great Argentine girls among the crowd, and saw a huge joint float driving around to exploit the recent weed legalization. The press was chasing him around trying to get him off park property, it was a comical scene. There were also instant maté machines EVERYWHERE, serving hot water to thousands of porteños. Shows you how they value their maté:)

Jujuy

Tilcara!
Las salinas: miles, pardon, KILOMETERS, of salt.
Purmamarca.
The most beautiful, scary, close storm of purple "relampagos" (lightning) i have ever seen.
Pacha Mama, where you offer the habits you want to break to Mama Earth.
Andrew's unmatched freetylin talent.
Arid air!
Morning sunrises. TONS of stars. missing Orion's belt:(
Coldest showers of my entire life.
Llama meat. Llama leg warmers. Llama sweaters. Llama cheese. Llamas.
And...a taxi driver who's the 14th child out of 17. WTF??! He was the most cheerful man i have ever met--and also swore he will have no more than 3 children himself haha.

Salsa

Ahh i am obsessed! With salsa. Salsa dancing. (Not the spicy sauce, obviously, because they literally don't even know what spice is down here.) The places turn into a boliche, a club, around 1am or so. I like to go to a lesson beforehand (yeah Anneke, my salsa compadre!) and then crash the boliche afterwards. The lessons definitely reach creeper status from a States' perspective, but the forwardness and touchiness are trademarks of the dance. We learn the passes speed-dating style, where we change partners every few minutes. Everyone has their own quirks and definitely smell--it's a workout haha. The salsa boliches are so legit--they're filled with serious masters who have probably been dancing since birth. It is the most liberating dance, slightly technical, but you can fake it pretty well when you're first starting if you're a girl and just follow the guy's marks. (Yes it's quite machisto, but really, what isn't here?) I've been learning a lot from the women here who just don't take any crap:) Luckily i have met a really non-creepy Argentine friend who knows his salsa and is a patient teacher. Thank youuuu, Matias.

Plan Techos!

How was i so lucky to trip over this? UBA (University of Buenos Aires) has a Facultad de Arquitectura, Diseño, y Urbanismo with a class dedicated to finding need-based architecture projects around the city. They're all fairly small projects--so i thought--to design and build homes, kitchens, clinics, etc. for people who don't mind our inexperience. The coordinators are this really cool architecture couple who check in on me (their poor little exchange student) every week. The class is an amazing machine of 11 projects going on at once. I am in one group who gets to travel up to San Martín, put myself in the shoes of yet another world only a few miles away, and build basic shelters for nine families up there. I said before that Argentina is chaotic, but after being in this class for a few weeks and seeing what we're supposedly going to get done before December, i think it's that they're just much less preoccupied with the useless logistics!! Code? Construction documents? Forget those. I have a measuring tape and two hands haha.

The first week we visited San Martín, a troop of locals welcomed us into their middle-class barrio. (If that was middle class, i cannot begin to imagine what the poor villas are like. These peoples' bathrooms were a stream running through their front yard.) A bubbly, enthusiastic, super-hospitable woman vested in a purple jumpsuit and many gold necklaces invited us to her table for tea and sweets to talk about the future of the neighborhood. Since her house was only two small rooms and there were at least 20 of us, we all quickly uprooted the tables and cloths to the alley right outside. It was the coolest teatime i've ever had. I was mostly--actually entirely--just listening. We spent an hour learning each others' names, another hour talking about the culture of the people, and while some group members explored the houses i got caught up talking to the woman and her best friend. Everything is SO RELAXED and yet SO PURPOSEFUL. Argentines are a people very intent on living the moment at hand, and seem not to worry about things more than about 30-seconds into the future. It really is a bizarre time-warp feeling--i'm always thinking about what we should be doing, and then have to think quickly and creatively to keep up with the intense spontaneity. I guess i'm learning pretty well, because when i saw something interesting or someone i wanted to talk to, i followed normal Argentine behavior and went to investigate. The group called me on a phone a few times to get me back haha. I guess i really am that annoying exchange student.

It was worth it, though, as one young guy invited my friend and i into his house that he had just built for his family. The walls were made of thin scraps of wood patched together, and had a membrane (tarp-like) roof. His kitchen, one bed, electricity wires all over the place, TV, fridge, wife, 2 kids, and everything else you need to live life were inside a room about as big as this bedroom i get to live in right now. We talked to them for a while. Their spirit was happy, the kids were gorgeous, and the guy seemed really proud to have built this himself. I was impressed, as it was pretty clear he invented all the construction techniques himself. He assured me it was just fine to take this photo (even though i still felt horribly exploitative for weeks.)

We have made a few more trips up to the barrio since, each time running our plans by the families with whom we're working. My friend Diego and i are building a roof, a third room, and tiling the bathroom of of Tuli's house. With $2000 pesos (about $500 US dollars), you can't do a whole lot. So we're thinking in stages, doing it step-by-step the Argentine way, and getting as far as we can. An example of some of the MAJOR things to keep in mind: make a space for neighbors to take maté together outside (OF COURSE), involve the family in everything so they're learning techniques as well as getting what they're looking for, and make it a house that lasts into the future (whether that means planning the stages wisely, orientating the rooms carefully so they use the sun's energy really well, building the grade up so it never floods again, or all of the above!).

This is so, so exciting for me. On the one hand, i'm stoked to give some unique skills i suddenly realized i've acquired over the past three years of school (it's suspiciously coincidental how these visions of sustainable architecture in Argentina and Oregon are merging, no?:)). And on the even bigger hand, i am floored at how much these people are giving back to me. There's a concept here that doesn't translate into English: it's called "solidaridad." It's the all-inclusive concept of volunteerism, that equally recognizes the giver and receiver. It describes how we're all benefiting equally from each other. This value is so central to the mindset here--people help each other out without considering the payback they'll receive, or without feeling validated by their "good deed." There is no better-off person in the equation. The needs of the receiver are never ever met from a sense of charity, but a sense of "i am contributing what i have to give because someone needs it, KNOWING automatically they have just as much to teach/give/contribute to me in SOME way. We help each other like one organism. That's just what we do." It's pretty amazing to see it in subconscious action in the rhythm of a society. And quite humbling to admit this is somehow a new concept.

Más y Menos

The concepts "more" or "less" are always in comparison to SOMETHING. Is this such a new concept??? I have been meditating on this for like three weeks now. Seems like a revelation, now that i'm seeing it play out in full force. Think about it:)

Franqueza, Viveza...

For the past 2 months (i've been here for TWO MONTHS??!) i have had eyes wide open in observation, shamefully a little judgment and comparison, and for the most part amazement. There's no describing what your brain and heart learn when you are actually swimming in another culture with a history, location, perspective, rhythm and soul all its own. As an outsider i at first was so preoccupied with finding my way home and staring at people to put my finger on the obvious differences. But after sitting with the confusion for quite a long time and looking back to the perspective from which i started, i really honestly and excitedly realize how a little Argentine is growing up in me! To put it some concrete analytical terms (if you can even begin to do that) the core Argentine values like frankness, spontaneity, warmth, street smarts, and trust account for the biggest differences between my birth culture and this one. As these make up the heart of what Argentines learn to be "givens," they can really easily be viewed as rude, immature, and downright mean from a U.S. point of view.

Franqueza (Frankness): one should feel free to express thoughts and opinions without self-censorship.
Negative perspective: Abrasive.
This makes soooo much more sense now when my host mom tells me i have the "brain of a little bird" when i don't wear socks or "it's my problem" when i decide not to buy a gym membership. Haha. And the interrupting, oh my gosh, i thought they were so rude to each other when even students would interrupt their professors. But it's almost like they expect it of one another, always welcoming a good fight.

Confianza (Trust & Closeness): Strong personal bonds in business and in the workplace are essential.
Negative: Biased and exclusive.
Everyone kisses each other on the cheek and talks about how each other's doing before any business starts. It's also not weird for teachers to have a coffee with their students.

Cariño (Warmth): Family and close friends are given utmost priority.
Negative: Clingy.

Viveza (Street-Smarts): High value is placed on financial savvy.
Negative: Swindlers.
No wonder i always felt like i was being tricked! Now instead of avoiding the salesmen i just meet them at their level.

Creatividad (Ingenuity & Spontaneity): Great pride is taken in the ability to react creatively in unexpected situations.
Negative: Disorganized and Unprepared.
Yesterday our prof was an hour late to class--we were expected to adjust and she walked as if nothing was weird. On our class trip last week, we spent a lot longer climbing a mountain than expected and were in the middle of nowhere with 60 starving kids and no food. So, the coordinators stopped at a gas station and bought a LOT of cookies to keep us full until our 5:00pm lunch. I see this on the colectivos (city buses) when they're speeding down the avenue with the doors wide open, in the nightlife when people stay out til 4:00 in the morning on a Tuesday because it's a nice night....Those are super slight examples but i'd say this is probably the most blatant value here--to me, everything seems like it's in chaos. But somehow everyone knows the rhythm of the chaos and manages to function anyway.

So....after knowing this is the mindset Argentines are born knowing as fact, IT EXPLAINS A LOT. Whether or not i adopt all the same values while here, at least i can have a love for how their brains were made rather than comparing how they're better or worse.

Idiomaticas

Some of my FAVORITES! We try to use these on a daily basis, haha. No doubt they'll come back with us to the U.S.:

"La noche está en pañales." - literally, "The night is in diapers," a.k.a. "It's only 3:00am, STOP whining and come out with us!!"

"Sacate las pilas." - "Take out your batteries," as in "CHILL OUT and slow down." The inverse is probably even more common: "Ponete las pilas!" - "Put in your batteries and let's GET GOING!"

Moldy Maté

I guess part of maté's charm and flavor comes from the nightly city of mold it grows in the humid cupboard. Mmmmmm. Just give the inside a little wipe with your thumb, you'll be fine....

Planeadora

My host sister came over last night for dinner. Since her parents are the very organized type who love to "planear," (to plan), clearly i asked if she, too, was a "planeadora." FACT: Sometimes it's necessary to improvise when you don't know the exact word--normally this works, and the verb and noun have the same matching root. This, however, was not the case tonight. I ended up asking if she was a "glider plane," which elicited some healthy explanation...

Clothes Line

Learning the nuances of the aerosol cans....it's WAY harder than it looks. Our prof is absolutely incredible. The most patient, encouraging, talented man. Not to mention he has the gnarliest mustache in Agentina. Here he is, whipping up a little example for his graffiti yearlings:) Video complete with drum circle in the background.

Our Prof's a G

Fútbol Gratis

It turns out Argentina's government is absolutely a dictatorship.

Fútbol (soccer) here is such a powerful and integral industry. With their teetering economy, the government has decided to boost morale or fútbol attendance or concession sales or something ridiculous along those lines by taking money out of retirees' pensions to make fútbol tickets free to the public. My host mom Luisa is retired, and there's nothing she can do about it.

Last night on the news, their top reporter was giving a speech about how a major law in the works right now absolutely needs to be "decided by consensus;" as if it were a revolutionary concept. I realize i am so blessed to be shocked by an alternative to democracy.

There was also a very real-looking story on their regular news channel about how some bus driver returned 2 million pesos to the owner. Luisa took one look at that and said it was bologna. I asked her how did she know? And she said with experience, you just know these things. Half the stories on the news are fake--just to get watchers. What the heck??

Mundial de Tango 2009

Maddy, ¿que acaba de pasar?--What just happened? I mean, really?? Someone wanted me to realize another chance of a lifetime Monday night. As if this week hasn't been amazing enough.

So this was Aug. 31, the last day of the huge World Tango Festival here. That also means the final competition of the world's best tango dancers. I've had a really overly opportunistic attitude here (necessary, i think)--so i thought i would follow the lucky feeling again, call up my spontaneous fun Maddy, and see what kind of tickets we could scalp outside Luna Park. I was racing down to the plaza after a class that lasted about 3 hours longer than expected, and the radio taxi dropped me off half an hour before showtime. As i was flowing across the street with the herd of tango-going Argentines, an old, tiny lady stepped right in front of me.

"¿Tenés entrada?" --Do you have an entrance?
"No, lo siento, no tengo una boleta." --No, i'm sorry, i don't have a ticket.
(i thought this little old lady was here to be as presumptuous as i was)
"Sí, ¿no tenés entrada?" --Right, you don't have an entrance?
"No, no tengo." --No, i don't.
"Acá. Tómala. Mi amiga no puede venir." --Here. Take it. My friend can't come.
"¿En serio? ¿Sos una angel? ¿Cuanto querés?" --Seriously? Are you an angel? How much do you want?"
"Nada. Gratis." --Nothing. It's free.

Literally an angel had just picked me out of the crowd to shove a ticket in my hand. It felt really unfair, hadn't even started looking. So we walked arm-in-arm across the street while i was trying to figure out the best way to tell her my friend was also here and i couldn't go in without her... I spit it out fast, and keeping right in step with Argentine lack of political-correctness, she asked me how could i be so stupid and why wouldn't i just go in and leave my friend to do her own thing? I tried to explain that i was going to see if Maddy wanted the ticket and i'd send her in. After reasoning for five minutes and realizing the seats weren't even together, i told her to go in (10 minutes til showtime.) We parted lovingly and i promised either Maddy or i would use the ticket.

Maddy came a few minutes later and we cluelessly started looking for a second ticket. The first guy we asked (go figure) told us just how to ask politely yet directly if people had one to spare. We walked to our entrance (5 minutes til showtime), and i decided there was no time to sift through the throngs of people that probably were waiting to find one themselves. Sooo...we went straight to the doorman.

"Hola:) Tengo una boleta, pero falta una para me amiga..." --Hello:) I have one ticket, but i'm short one for my friend here.

He stared us down like "...and what the heck do you expect me to do about that, girls?" I admittedly played the clueless/helpless card a little bit and kept saying "We're one short, we're one short. What should we do?" We had a short stare-down and he rolled his eyes and called his manager over, a very well-dressed man in a tuxedo and bow tie. He probably took one look at Maddy and then opened the side gate for us. "They're with me." We followed him into the auditorium and sat in the front row of the tango world finals. We shared the space and view with some even pushier reporters' heads but i guess we deserved at least that much.

The energy was absolutely seductive and i didn't even care i couldn't see half the time. Being 40 feet away was great enough. My favorite part by far was when the Japanese won 3rd place and the girl shook and smiled like it was 1st. I felt her passion the most. The night was complete with ridiculous music and showgirls and very Latinamerican singers, if you know what i mean, and at least 25 couples who were all unbelievable dancers--the best in world actually, jajaja. I told my host mom when i came home and, surprise surprise, she was not phased. Apparently that kind of insane stuff happens all the time in Argentina (as i have also come to realize in the last three weeks). But amazing for her or not, we felt like the luckiest girls in B.A.

Aerosol Urbano

WHAAAT is this, a class for spray-painting? Are you for real?? Porteños (the Argentine people) are so crazy. It was everything i thought it would be--three hours on Saturdays to paint murals on the side of a huge expanse of warehouses set by the train tracks. The teacher is the quintessential Art Man. His speckled overalls and bald head and loud voice and handlebar mustache just make you want to...PAINT SOMETHING. Over the week, our calling is to find an object, a drawing, a photo...something inspired by the poverty of the area to guide our art. We each paint one thing (30 people in the class) over 8 weeks and weave the stories together into one huge mural. Today we primed the warehouses--over dirt, doors, spider webs (and their spiders), flower pots, the flowers in the pots, stairs, junk leaning against the warehouse...everything got a coat of red, yellow, or blue paint. It was a bit like slave labor, haha, but it had to be done. Little toddlers came out to watch us while playing in the garbage, a troop of drummers trickled out of nowhere to play a sweet drum circle--it was one big party. I got paint all over my entire body and favorite shoes and now they are just full of character and look even better than before. People kept peeking out the big sliding metal doors while we were at it, and i thought they were just working in there. But then i saw inside one warehouse that had laundry hanging and a stroller and a bed...i think these are people's homes we are painting. Or random warehouses that people happen to be living in. One way or the other, the energy it brought was welcomed by everyone. It is a great call to brighten this place with few resources and a lot of creativity. Plus it is insane fun.

sola seguidora

Maddy, i love that you are the only follower on my blog and you are living everyday here with me. Now that's friendship haha

Piazzolla

Top ten best nights of my life this weekend--our luck lasted all night long!

So the Tango Festival is in Buenos Aires right now. Prime time to be in BA and see the best tango performances and music the world has to offer. We decided to randomly see one show at 8pm Saturday at El Teatro 25 de Mayo. Tickets were free so when we got there and it was sold out, i wasn't really surprised. We stuck around, however, hoping they might have mercy on us if there was room after the show started. The manager came up to us to see what we had been doing hanging by the door for 30 minutes, and then told us to hop in line. They were letting waves of people in little by little, and we happened to be some of the last to get in. A dramatic tango lament accompanied us up the stairs as we entered the auditorium to see THE BEST live performance i've ever been to in my life. The band was a guitar, a piano, a contra bass, a violin, and a sick accordion--five guys with crazy hair and suits with black V-necks underneath. They played Piazzolla-inspired music (really exciting jazzed-up classical tango. If you haven't checked his stuff out pleeeease do.) Accordion solos and piano solos and rhythmic chats on the side of the guitar were flying all over the place. The music was so complex but SO clear, it was like a perfect painting. Or a really really well organized, gorgeous building that kept you guessing but made you feel like you were part of the making. I was SO HAPPY to be there in that tiny beautiful theater in Buenos Aires with some new friends on a lucky night.

We hadn't noticed we were starving, so the Subte ride to San Telmo seemed eeeterrrnal. "Connecting" subs seems easy but actually just makes you walk the blocks and blocks underground. We wandered for a while under a vague destination, i stepped in one of the bajillion piles of dog crap lining the sidewalks, got really angry for a few minutes, then found a perfectly chill dinner place in the side of a wall. Complete with live music that, again, was sensational. We sat right next to the dish-washers and the waitress had to slip by me every single time she wanted to get to the other half of the restaurant. Ha, the priorities were right: sucky seating, terrible bathrooms, notoriously lackadaisical service, great food, stellar cheap wine, dulce de leche ice cream, and rocking live music. We had a three hour dinner that lasted til 1:00am. I didn't even notice nor care about the time i was so content. Hope you had as great a time on your birthday as i did, Katy!

Was that the end of the night? I can never remember which days are which, they all bleed into each other when the normal going-home time = 6:00am. Or 7. Or 8. Hahaha. I mean we must have gone dancing afterward if it was The Lucky Night.

Uraday

Turns out Uruguay is right across the rio! A three hour cruise on the Buquebus dropped us off in Colonia, the tiniest port town on the Uruguay coast. The hostel was a dream--people from New Zealand, Palonia, Argentina, Holland, England, and Chile were staying there. We made friends with two of the workers right away and they showed us the single three main attractions of Colonial night-life. This included, of course, a karaoke bar where Anneke and i yelled through so many Spanish songs we could hardly speak the next day. We stayed with a girl from London who was traveling the entire world in six months--she was on the last leg of her trip in South America, and we got to hear firsthand the coolest stuff about worldwide train-travel, Tokyo, London schooling, where the best food in the world actually is.... Getting to know friends who work at a hostel is literally one of the best ways to make friends with the world really really fast. We randomly ran into them in Buenos Aires again this next weekend and our little network grew to include friends here, too. ¡Que suerte!

Classes started for real last week, and oh my gosh. The University of Buenos Aires is the most intense hub of political campaigning and craziness. The professors barely get paid a thing, but they teach because they're passionate. The buildings are falling apart and there's hundred-year-old peeling paint on the walls (which doesn't matter because every square inch is covered with political posters), everyone is smoking (even the profs go through a pack in class), toilet paper rolls don't even exist in the bathrooms, and it's pretty common to wait up to an hour for class to start. They are on such a different clock here, i love it. People in the States would be so frustrated with this seemly chaotic system. In Argentina it works, though, because everyone's on the same page about it. And bottom line: the classes are wonderful and extremely hard and walking in there has begun one of the best experiences of my life.

I told Luisa i had Tiramasu ice cream--which by the way is the heavens in a cup--and she asked Did i know what Tiramisu really meant? "Tirar" can mean "to throw," so when reflected onto oneself, Tiramisu means "it throws me upward--" in elation, i guess!

People on the Subte looooove to stare...Not just at me or anything, but at everyone. i felt super uncomfortable until our amazing head coordinator, Carolina, told us there isn't even a word in Castellano "to stare." There's only "looking." This is such a looking culture--that's how the people size each other up on first-impression. 10-second eye contact would be really creeperish in the States. But it's custom here. So, i happily have joined in the "staring" and it's not weird at all. It's a relief to be allowed to have a hay-day on the Sub just staring around, cause i can't take my eyes off these beautiful people anyway. There's also not a word for "snobby" in Castellano. I explained it to my family in many different ways: a "prideful" person, a person who flaunted their money, etc...and they didn't seem to understand it as a set concept either.

I'm sitting here in the kitchen on Saturday afternoon listening to a really badly-dubbed-over movie in Castellano. We stayed out exploring the town (and mostly dancing) last night until 5:00am--late enough so we could ride the subway home as it opened for the early-birds. And we were the ones who went home early!

Everyone here seems to be speaking slower this week...i think that's a good sign. My head's picking up these strange noises a little more easily everyday. Haha it was a mean trick when i arrived a month ago--it was like a different language than i'd learned in all those years of class. The dialect and verb forms between school Spanish and Buenos Aires could be compared to the difference between Ebonics and British English. Thankfully, 4 weeks of inundation has about equaled all that Spanish-schooling and i can understand most all of a lecture at UBA. And at the dinner table, it's already been a big change from when i felt like the deaf Great-Grandma to whom the family threw out a very simple question everyone once in a while before going back to happy chatter amongst themselves. My brain muscles are really sore but i am LOVING every hurdle in learning a new language.

Sexy Girl

I'm currently sitting next to my host Ma, drinking Mate, who has on a bright green shirt with English writing. I asked her if she knew what it meant and she laughed and said no, but did i know? Haahaha it says "I'm sick of searching for a sexy girl" and has a beach babe lounging across the front. I think she loves it even more now. I told her it makes sense because she's that sexy girl. It used to be her husbands but i think this makes much more sense.

Having trouble uploading photos, but i'm going to get on that train and update you on the last week of insanity!! Gauchos in the campo, Uruday, first week of classes... ¡Ay ay ay Dios mio!

Twist & Shout!

This gym by my apartment....is like a hampster cage. They close the front with a garage door at night (like most every business here) and have crammed 100 machines in a plot as wide as my finger. But it's enough for me--fancy dancy gyming is a scam anyway! Give me a mat and i'll be okay. What i really joined for is the cycling class you get for 10 pesos extra a month (that's less than $3). And it has already been worth it. The instructor hopped on his bike at the back of the room about 10mins late (classic Argentine timing), flipped off the lights, and flipped on the tecno version of "Twist and Shout" complete with siren sounds. He kicked our asses for an entire hour without one break. This guy was actually insane. When i didn't have sweat dripping--no, flowing--into my eyes, i had to blink anyway because the 2 spinning disco balls blinded me anyway. When we slowed down he held up a paper sign taped on the end of a yard stick that yelled "VAMOS!!!" at us (that means Let's get goin!!!) Or he turned off the song musical-chairs style and made us sing the chorus. The class rocked. It was the weirdest, most invigorating, wettest exercise i've had in a long freakin time.

I came back to shower right when Luisa (host mommy) was walking in. (She was probably relieved to see i was ready to shower, she has been asking if i want one all week.) We had a sweet conversation and i got to see her very equal-power perspective of the world. She told me the thing she tells all her "alumnos," (friends): "La independencia economía es igual a la soberanía política."

Some brilliant friends of ours were eating pizza in a parlor and saw that the back wall of the building was missing. The discovery: the entrance to a huge indoor soccer complex plopped in the middle of the block. It's 100 pesos to rent out a field for an hour (the equivalent of about 30 bucks), and with 20 friends playing that's basically nothing. We played for 2 hours today on the ghetto, sandy field and it was one of the best times here yet.

Walking out of the parlor we saw a group of people gathering in the middle of the street. A man in a gray and pink sweat-suit was lying deathly motionless. We waited around a few minutes, assuming the attentive people had done all they could to help, (only later realizing that was probably a bad assumption). A woman poked the guy in the belly. Nothing. Ten minutes later the police showed up, bending over him and shuffling around in his jacket for ID. They looked pretty clueless. 2 ambulances and 20 minutes passed before we decided to leave and saw a third coming up the street. Hope that was the one, even though there was no hope for him. Cars and taxis and people scuttled by going on with their business for the night. I don't know how long he stayed there, a spectacle of the fragility of life. His fingers were still holding a lit cigarette.

I told my host mom about it at dinner. She said "Oh," and kept watching TV. I asked if death in the street was common, and she said "Oh yes." That was the end of that. I am still a little hurt and mad by her flippancy, but I get the feeling more and more that you need to have "piel muy dura" to live here. Thick skin. Whatever, I don't think i could ever adopt Argentine-unaffectedness at the sight of a lifeless body in the middle of the street i'm about to across.

We had Polenta with dinner again tonight--oh my gosh i have found a new love. Luisa just asked me if i want to shower cause "i was running around for 2 hours." No Luisa. No no, i don't do that sort of thing. Are you kidding? I just showered this afternoon. Give it at least a few more days.

Taxi?

SO...apparently there are 2 ways to ask a taxi to "pick you up." One elicits a ride home. And the other, I have just now been informed, asks to please pick me up for the night. It's probably good Felipe explained this crucial difference in the first week...

capítulo nuevo

However much i planned...this journey has started abruptly! Current time: 8pm. Dinner time: in an hour or 2. Socialization con amigas nuevas: commencing at midnight. When do they ever sleep?

The spread here is really a dream. A little apartment, beautiful traditional-modern mix of style, and lots of energy emanating from below. The first thing i got from my host mom and dad was a kiss on the cheek, from each. They are sweet sweet people who speak EXTREMELY LOUDLY to me and act everything out even to make sure i know how a tea bag works. I bet we could all get along without even speaking, our body language is so good. They loooove to hear my infant-like Spanish though, and their patience is undetectable it's so constant.

El Subte and i meet everyday--twice. Once to go to school, and once to come back. Today a tiny boy ran on crying, and i recognized him as the one from the day before who chanted and sang opera for all his riders to get some extra change. I guess this was his new act. His brother was much more shy and it broke my heart a little bit.

LISTENING to this place is the best part. The gorgeous accent, the chatty kids...i even love being constantly inundated with orientation essentials that are super important (like which taxis not to trust, how to read a map of this ENORMO city, when the subte stops running, how to get home...) and hoping i understand enough to survive. Awesomely invigorating.

Walking around here feels good. I like being alone in a big city. For a while anyway. Los porteños (Argentines) are down the business all the time--not much chilling for the sake of it. We do have tea together all day long though...that's built-in chill time i suppose.

So far, so good. Spanish is already in my thoughts. I am so spoiled, this is a dream. I literally have free reign over South America with a warm/lukewarm house to come back to whenever I want. Goal #1: learn Spanish--like really learn it. Goal #2: keep an open mind and heart to see what these Argentines are really about. One of my favorite things is looking around the Subte, trying to see what each person is thinking. i watch the people sighing, the ones reading a paper, the ones on the phone...each culture can be a different world, but somehow we all have the same beautiful human souls!! I can't wait to start school and meet some more natives. Goal #3: explore and make more goals.

Some peeps have been praying for me, this i KNOW. i can def feel it. Thank you THANK YOU, i miss everyone who sent me off here in such faith!

Ciao, besos.