Si tuviera dinero, iria a la playa todos los dias...

Before I begin the description of my adventures on the beach at Pinamar, I want to take a moment to celebrate Haiku Thursday.  (Kait, this is just for you.)

I sit, fan myself

With a scrap of Yeats' best work

And question the world.

Amazing, I know...  Only kidding.  Actually, at the time I was awaiting the arrival of my friends to the heladeria (ice cream cafe) where we were planning on having ice cream and using the WiFi.  A large, obviously poverty-stricken family was walking by, and one of the children, a little boy, approached me to ask me for "monedas" or coins.  I heeded the advice that I have heard nonstop since arriving--don't give your money  away to the people of the street... especially, don't give away coins.  He was clearly exasperated with me and asked twice more, and it took everything I could to persist in saying that I had no coins to give.  

The reality is that I am a fairly well-to-do American girl who has learned to fear poverty and pinch pennies.  As I sat there watching the family make their way slowly down the street away from me, I reveled in my self-disgust and frustration.  It's a rather unfortunate handicap to be ignorant of the pains of those who have nothing.  I wish that I could rediscover my compassion or at least find a way to help these people.  In my computer sleeve, I discovered a W. B. Yeats' poem I wrote an essay on, entitled "Coole Park and Ballylee, 1931," and spend some moments soothing my soul as I digested his phrases and diction.  At least I can find peace in my literature.

So...  My second weekend here, I took a trip to the beach side town of Pinamar.  It's not a particularly large or interesting town, but it is most certainly the place to go for a day of sunbathing.  We were thinking we would be smart and avoid having to pay for a hostel by leaving at 12:30 Friday night and returning at 2:00 am Saturday night.  The bus trip is around five or five and a half hours...  Needless to say, I spent most of Sunday recovering and re-hydrating.

But to get to the details of the excursion...  We arrived and watched the sun rise over the Atlantic Ocean (see photos).  As we wandered the beach, we were accompanied by a pack of stray dogs that were desperate to come home with us.  Unfortunately, they didn't want to leave us alone and hung around while we waited for the restaurant to open, but eventually lost interest and took to chasing the cars passing by in the busy Saturday morning streets.  We didn't see much of them later, but I don't think anyone was particularly unhappy to see them go.

After a three hour breakfast of coffee, medilunas (croissants with a honey/sweet glaze) and delightful conversation, we returned to the beach for a nap in the sun.  I went for a stroll with my friend Ashley (the same in the photo with the dogs), and we talked about the lives and people we left behind.  It was interesting to know that someone else shared the emotions and experiences that had tumbled around inside my stomach the first few days here.  It's funny that I hadn't realized that I wasn't alone in this little adventure.

For lunch, we found this tiny cafe and ate some of the best empanadas I've had since being here... I really need a recipe.  Afterwards, we followed our delicious meal with unbelievable ice cream...  I had kiwi and apple, can you believe that?  So delicious!  We filled the rest of the afternoon with more swimming and sun.  Although I put SPF fifty on my entire body the second time, I still managed to get a burn two days that later left a few tiny blisters on my back.  It was really not attractive, but I did survive.

We ended up wandering the streets that evening and discovering this Beatles cover band on the balcony of one of the bars.  They shared the stage with a CCR cover band, and the two were absolutely fantastic.  Alex, who is infamous for his friendliness, introduced himself to Paul and John and made plans for us to return to their later show.  It was amazing, but I spent a great deal of it falling asleep until the Beatles paid our cover charge, so we could sit in the bar where the view was much better.  I also made everyone try Fernet (the most foul alcohol) which is a famous Argentinean liquor made from herbs and tastes like you're drinking straight oregano and rosemary...  Such a fun night.

We had to leave our friends before the show ended, but we promised to make it to their show in Buenos Aires in March...  I'm looking forward to another Spanish accented Beatles concert.  The road home was long and I slept till three in the afternoon the next day, but I had such a good time.  It was a great time for bonding and frolicking with new friends.

 

The result of catching a bus to the beach at midnight...

Pardon my Spanglish but could you tell me where...

Bueno.  On to my adventures thus far.  Who's excited??  So...  We spent the second full day on a tour through the city and orientation.  The tour included several stops in the various "barrios" or neighborhoods around BA.  Thus far, my favorite sight has been the tombs or Cemetario de Recoleta in, of course, the barrio Recoleta.  There were dozens of family tombs, some of them centuries old, in this massive cemetery.  Needless to say, I was both creeped out and impressed.  The tombs were nothing short of beautiful though perhaps strange in their variety.  It was obvious which belonged to large, rich families and which did not.  I took a photo (which I am currently trying to edit so that it is right side up in order to put on here...) of one tomb that stands about five times as high as I am tall.  The photo is of my friend Kara, unaware that she was in the shot, standing just in front of the enormous tomb.  It's so beautiful!  Currently, this photo of an angel perched on top of one of the tombs.  Another favorite was a photo of a grieving female statue next to what was a wife's dedication to her deceased husband.  The plaque said something to the effect of "To the memory of my unforgettable spouse and I.  Oh my God, my God."

After the saunter through the cemetery, we continued to meander through various parts of the city.  There is an area of Buenos Aires known as "La Boca," literally "The Mouth."  Here, there are houses are of every possible hue from chartreuse to cerulean to crimson and every other in between.  When Coqui, our beloved tour guide and Mother of the Excursions, mentioned that the houses were colorful I had no idea what she was talking about...  but around the corner there was a row of the famous houses.  

The poor Italian immigrants began the cycle of using these bright colors because they could not afford paint for their homes.  Thus, they stole leftover paints from ships, which meant there was often only enough paint for one side of the house.  As a result, the houses vary in color from wall to wall as well.  It was still common for later settlers to Boca to paint their houses in this manner, so the barrio continued to grown more and more colorful over the years.  At this point, La Boca remains one of the poorer neighborhoods in the city of Buenos Aires.

Also, in La Boca, is a feria, or fair, which somewhat resembles an enormous flea market.  Here, there are crafts and goods of all kinds for wandering tourists to take home as a fleeting reminder of the streets in BA.  This is how many people in the city earn their food and shelter, but in places like Boca, there are plenty of people who are unable to craft things with their hands and are left to beg for change from tourists.

(Something else we've learned while being here is that change is a scarcity, so the tourists that don't know this seem to be more willing to give away their loose change.  However, for the common Argentinean, change is a rarity and is rarely given away.)

On to San Telmo...  On Sundays, there is a feria here that spreads for blocks and blocks.  More on that later.  On this particular Sunday, a handful of the girls and I decided to wander down one of the side streets and then forget where to find the bus.  Luckily, we finally got onto the right street and were able to reunite with everyone.  Oops.

The shortest and perhaps most historically significant stop was in Plaza de Mayo.  It is here that the Madres de Plaza de Mayo met to protest "los desaparecidos" or the disappearances of their children, friends and family members during the Dirty War (Guerra Sucia) of 1976-1983 where a military government kidnapped, tortured and murdered thousands of people.  The total disappearance number around 30,000 and the Madres meet every Thursday to commemorate their lost loved ones and ask for restitution and recognition of the crimes of the former government.  The Plaza is a focal point for remembering the horrors of the Guerra Sucia; it stands directly next to La Casa Rosada (The Pink House or the Argentinean version of our White House).

We drove down various other streets and avenues in order to see other interesting parts of the city.  Most interesting to me was the Argentinean monument that is exactly the same as our Washington Monument (though I am unable to remember the name at this time) and the widest street in the world, 9 de Julio...  HUGE!

This was all a little much for me to take in...  This would explain why it was difficult for me to relate, but I visited some of these areas again.  So, I'll try to fill in the gaps as best I can.  Chau for now.

Argentina por los ojos de una chica americana...

Mi vida y familia nueva:

 

It took me about twenty hours (more or less) to get to my new city.  When we landed I felt a bit sick and disoriented and with fifteen other people running around me, I was really overwhelmed.  From the airport, it was another hour to make it to the University of Belgrano where we were to meet our new families.  I was retrieved by a friend of my "mama's," named Mia.  Mia tried to engage me as much as one can with an exhausted, sickly person who hasn't had much sleep and doesn't fully grasp the language.  It was quite the taxi ride.

 

My mama is Lucy Smith, a former English teacher who lives in her first story apartment with a "perrito" named Oliver, nephew, a housekeeper for the week and another for the weekend.  This is very common, Lucy assures me, but it is still a little strange that there is someone to serve our dinner and do the chores around the apartment.  Lucy is very good to me, and we have become very good friends. 

 

In addition to Lucy, I have the students in my program for an extended “family” here. There are only four boys in my group of about fifteen, so it is quite the “estrogen fest” and reminds me a little of sorority life. Everyone is, for the most part, wonderful, and we have a great deal of fun together.  Our first day here, we took a trip to a town called Tigre which sits on the delta del Rio de la Plata.  We spent about four hours in the sun, unaware that we were being slow roasted by UV rays…  Needless to say, despite using MUCHO sunscreen, we were a little familia de langostas (lobsters) by the end of the afternoon.  It was pretty humorous.

 

Despite our sunburns, we grow more and more comfortable each day.  This helps because in Argentina, there is quite the lack of personal space; thus, we often stand extremely close to each other and have taken up the habit of giving “besos” to each other in place of greetings and farewells.

 

I now understand why people call Buenos Aires the Paris of South America; it is a city in which I wish I could be in love.  Here, affection is as rampant as the stray dogs that occupy every nook of Buenos Aires.  Everyone hugs and kisses (yes, even the most masculine of men), and there are often couples of all ages standing in the street exchanging saliva in a manner that suggests they are worried it will be there last chance.   In one instance, I witnessed a boy around the age of thirteen making out with his girlfriend while his mom stood no more than three feet away.  Perhaps it was because I am a cold-hearted America, but I felt extremely awkward.

 

Buenos Aires has millions of inhabitants and is constantly in motion.  I love it here.  Along with the human population, there are large populations of pigeons (which I call my pajarritos or “birdies”), stray dogs that were left to survive the street life because their owners were unable to take care of them and insects.  While on the beach, I made friends with a perra sin familia that wandered up to me and put her head against my leg.  Dulce, we called her, like “dulce de leche,” a favorite caramel dessert that is very popular here.  Another evening, I was lucky enough to stumble across una cucaracha…  I was less than impressed.

 

Another resident that is often seen in the streets of Buenos Aires, is the Argentinean male.  As a female, especially an American young woman, there is more danger in a smile than any other action when around these men.  I’ve only been here a week and have already been met with ominous smiles and “Estas hermosa” and “Mi amor” while walking in the early morning to class.  I’m not especially scared of the men, but I know that being careful will save me a lot of unnecessary trouble.

 

The same is true of thieves and pick-pocketers.  If one does not wish to lose everything, it’s incredibly important to be alert and cautious in the streets.  For example, when I go out in the evenings or leave for school, I take only what I absolutely need for the day.  Sometimes, it means I have to make a trip back to my house to exchange my wallet for my computer in order to check my e-mails.  But, as they say, when you get robbed you often have everything with you, so I try to prevent what I can.

Let's talk about how much God hates me today.

I was planning on posting pictures today, but so far, everything has gone poorly... Especially, my timing. I tried to go to three banks to exchange my American money and all of them refused saying it was because I was not "un client." At this point, I think it might be because I'm America... or a woman... or una chica rubia (light/blonde hair) because it doesn't make any sense to me.

Today was the first day of school... Not too bad, but I'm even less fluent than I could have imagined. Classes are from 9:30 to 2:30 with a 15 and 40 minute break. The 40 minute break I used to try and go to my first bank... Huge failure. I'm at my program's office right now, but I have to leave in five minutes, so I'm beginning to feel a little frustrated with the schedules here.

However, I did experience Chinese food the Argentinian way today... It was very "rica" and so good to find. It helps that there is a China town around 20 blocks from school. The only problem was the rather disturbing clear, jellyfish arms that were in my hot and sour soup. Needless to say, I didn't finish it.

Es my dia suerte, I suppose. Oh well, tomorrow es un dia nuevo (a new day), and I think it has to go much smoother. With more luck, I will have time for blogging and putting more pictures here. I have so many stories! Hasta manana!

Estoy en Argentina... Y ahora?

Hola!

So I'm here and love it, of course. It's hotter than one can imagine, and I spend most of my days sweating to death so far. (TMI?) I don't have much time, but I'll have to write more for this blog at some point... Hasta luego!

Jessi