http://www.thedustycamel.org/alisa/
But come back to this one every now and then because I have a pretty background picture.
Thursday, October 28, 2010
Wednesday, October 20, 2010
About that weekend in Mendoza.
It was a riot. An actual riot. Danger and violence included. I won´t lie and say I´m not one to be dramatic, but some pretty interesting things went down. I´ll try to keep it chronological.
First of all, there was the 13-hour bus ride. We came prepared with snacks and whisky. Our meek but friendly bus attendant, Enrique, led us in a bus-wide bingo game. Between the four of us, we knew someone would win. Well, I WON!!!! Sorry to brag, but I´m awful excited that I won a bottle of Santa Julia sauvignon blanc in a game of bus bingo. I didn´t even feel that bad when I ran up to claim my prize, past the little old man clutching his losing bingo paper. I totally stole his game. Anyway, it helped make the bus ride go faster since we all knocked out on our pathetic "semi-camas".
Day one in Mendoza, we were pretty wrecked from the ride but decided to find an activity that involved wine and bicycles. Success! We got dropped off at BikesAndWines somewhat near this long stretch of bodegas, or vineyards. We were greeted by huge, sloshing cups of wine and invited to choose our bikes. No helmets, no waivers, nothing. Being me, I was wearing a silky mini dress and sandals. No pants, no problem! They let us loose on the local highway with an oversimplified map of the surrounding terrain and a vigorous promise of lots of great wine up ahead. Well, we barely survived the ride to the first bodega. At one point, we were pedaling furiously on a one-lane-dirt highway, competing with two lanes of traffic, mostly buses and trucks. At one point, a bus flew by and actually skimmed my hair. Yaaahhooo! By the time we got to a vineyard and parked our decrepit bikes, we were shaken and knew we wouldn´t make it to any others before they closed. So we bought several bottles of absolutely phenomenal wine, enjoyed them on a lovely terrace, and just chilled out. Maybe a little too much. Let´s just say that the bike ride back was more dangerous, but so much more fun. We passed out hard that night after some delicious steak and, of course, more wine.
Day two, we happened upon some other pals from our program in Buenos Aires who were staying at another hostel. They were walking by our hostel and saw us through the window! Luckily, they had planned a cool trip out to the Andes to go horseback riding for the afternoon. We hustled over to their hostel, booked it, and then played ping pong and drank beer while waiting to get picked up. I can´t even describe how cool it was to see the Andes from a distance -- and then drive into them. Once we got to the horse "facility", which was a very, very rural barn with an equally rural set of horses and a low-slung stone hut, we were paired up with our animals by a smiley gaucho named Diego. Being of unimpressive stature, I was given a saggy little grey and white steed named Domino (who turned out to be a totally decent ride in the end). They led us across streams, up some pretty gnarly hills, down some slippery rock faces -- the hairiest part of the ride -- and through beautiful, high-altitude fields nestled in the valleys between some of the lower peaks. Whenever Diego felt that one of the horses was lagging, he´d snap off a branch and hand it to the rider, then yell AAIIYEEE until the horse got terrified and sprinted off. Very funny, until you were the one bouncing along like a rag doll. He gave me my own nature-made whip because Domino chose eating over walking, and at first I felt pretty dumb spanking my fat old horse with a bunch of twiggy flowers. It worked though, and I felt really comfortable riding after a little while.
When we got back, we were greeted with a huge asado -- cooked on a small fire next to the hut, but sooo delicious. They also gave us unlimited wine. I mean truly without limits. We all ate our dinner in a bite, sip, bite, sip manner, and I don´t know at which point everyone besides myself and the other five girls I was with left, but soon we were alone with the gaucho and his friend Santiago. We played guitar by the fire, kept guzzling that free wine, I had a nap on a log next to the fire, our friend Lillian melted her boot in the fire, etc. My friend Caroline got a little silly -- though no sillier than the rest of us -- and broke a glass, then fell off her chair into the shards. None of us realized that she had hurt herself until five minutes later, when she was walking around with blood streaming down her arm, looking confused. We got her to the sink in the hut, and while Morgan held Caroline´s hand under cold water, I helped the gaucho make tourniquets with a dishtowel and a knife. He tied it on with his teeth! We all sobered up as much as possible, piled into the mini bus that had been waiting for us, and booked it to the nearest clinic. All they did was clean up the cut a little bit, so we went into Mendoza to another hospital, where they stitched her up. Mind you -- it´s 2AM and we are all covered in dirt, horse hair, and wine stains.
I am leaving out some details, but I´m sure I´ve included plenty and this post is hugely long. After all that jazz, we got back to the hostel safely, Caroline was all nicely bandaged up thanks to Morgan (who waited with her for hours), and woke up only slightly worse for the wear on Sunday. We spent the day trolling for ice cream and laying in the sun, fainting from dehydration, re-hydrating, finding more ice cream, then piling onto that damn bus again. I´m pretty sure the bus broke down in the middle of the night, but in true Argentine fashion, the bus just limped along slowly until we finally got home.
Mendoza, you were good to us. Sorry for partying. Pictures to come!
First of all, there was the 13-hour bus ride. We came prepared with snacks and whisky. Our meek but friendly bus attendant, Enrique, led us in a bus-wide bingo game. Between the four of us, we knew someone would win. Well, I WON!!!! Sorry to brag, but I´m awful excited that I won a bottle of Santa Julia sauvignon blanc in a game of bus bingo. I didn´t even feel that bad when I ran up to claim my prize, past the little old man clutching his losing bingo paper. I totally stole his game. Anyway, it helped make the bus ride go faster since we all knocked out on our pathetic "semi-camas".
Day one in Mendoza, we were pretty wrecked from the ride but decided to find an activity that involved wine and bicycles. Success! We got dropped off at BikesAndWines somewhat near this long stretch of bodegas, or vineyards. We were greeted by huge, sloshing cups of wine and invited to choose our bikes. No helmets, no waivers, nothing. Being me, I was wearing a silky mini dress and sandals. No pants, no problem! They let us loose on the local highway with an oversimplified map of the surrounding terrain and a vigorous promise of lots of great wine up ahead. Well, we barely survived the ride to the first bodega. At one point, we were pedaling furiously on a one-lane-dirt highway, competing with two lanes of traffic, mostly buses and trucks. At one point, a bus flew by and actually skimmed my hair. Yaaahhooo! By the time we got to a vineyard and parked our decrepit bikes, we were shaken and knew we wouldn´t make it to any others before they closed. So we bought several bottles of absolutely phenomenal wine, enjoyed them on a lovely terrace, and just chilled out. Maybe a little too much. Let´s just say that the bike ride back was more dangerous, but so much more fun. We passed out hard that night after some delicious steak and, of course, more wine.
Day two, we happened upon some other pals from our program in Buenos Aires who were staying at another hostel. They were walking by our hostel and saw us through the window! Luckily, they had planned a cool trip out to the Andes to go horseback riding for the afternoon. We hustled over to their hostel, booked it, and then played ping pong and drank beer while waiting to get picked up. I can´t even describe how cool it was to see the Andes from a distance -- and then drive into them. Once we got to the horse "facility", which was a very, very rural barn with an equally rural set of horses and a low-slung stone hut, we were paired up with our animals by a smiley gaucho named Diego. Being of unimpressive stature, I was given a saggy little grey and white steed named Domino (who turned out to be a totally decent ride in the end). They led us across streams, up some pretty gnarly hills, down some slippery rock faces -- the hairiest part of the ride -- and through beautiful, high-altitude fields nestled in the valleys between some of the lower peaks. Whenever Diego felt that one of the horses was lagging, he´d snap off a branch and hand it to the rider, then yell AAIIYEEE until the horse got terrified and sprinted off. Very funny, until you were the one bouncing along like a rag doll. He gave me my own nature-made whip because Domino chose eating over walking, and at first I felt pretty dumb spanking my fat old horse with a bunch of twiggy flowers. It worked though, and I felt really comfortable riding after a little while.
When we got back, we were greeted with a huge asado -- cooked on a small fire next to the hut, but sooo delicious. They also gave us unlimited wine. I mean truly without limits. We all ate our dinner in a bite, sip, bite, sip manner, and I don´t know at which point everyone besides myself and the other five girls I was with left, but soon we were alone with the gaucho and his friend Santiago. We played guitar by the fire, kept guzzling that free wine, I had a nap on a log next to the fire, our friend Lillian melted her boot in the fire, etc. My friend Caroline got a little silly -- though no sillier than the rest of us -- and broke a glass, then fell off her chair into the shards. None of us realized that she had hurt herself until five minutes later, when she was walking around with blood streaming down her arm, looking confused. We got her to the sink in the hut, and while Morgan held Caroline´s hand under cold water, I helped the gaucho make tourniquets with a dishtowel and a knife. He tied it on with his teeth! We all sobered up as much as possible, piled into the mini bus that had been waiting for us, and booked it to the nearest clinic. All they did was clean up the cut a little bit, so we went into Mendoza to another hospital, where they stitched her up. Mind you -- it´s 2AM and we are all covered in dirt, horse hair, and wine stains.
I am leaving out some details, but I´m sure I´ve included plenty and this post is hugely long. After all that jazz, we got back to the hostel safely, Caroline was all nicely bandaged up thanks to Morgan (who waited with her for hours), and woke up only slightly worse for the wear on Sunday. We spent the day trolling for ice cream and laying in the sun, fainting from dehydration, re-hydrating, finding more ice cream, then piling onto that damn bus again. I´m pretty sure the bus broke down in the middle of the night, but in true Argentine fashion, the bus just limped along slowly until we finally got home.
Mendoza, you were good to us. Sorry for partying. Pictures to come!
Thursday, October 7, 2010
Feeling random, alone in my office...
I just wanted to mention something that has long since struck me as odd about Argentina. That might be a bold statement because every country is different, blah blah, but the olive oil here is seriously bizarre. It has this very distinctive sweet, chemical flavor that is so strong it is imparted to every single food it touches. Little things that you wouldn´t even realize contain olive oil are tiringly indistinguishable from each other because they all. Taste. Like. Olive oil.
Not gonna miss that.
On a non-whiny note, I´m having a girls´long weekend in Mendoza! Can you say wine-fueled bike tours set against the Andes? Sí, sí...
Ciao mis queridos. I will return with bocha fotos y gran historias.
Not gonna miss that.
On a non-whiny note, I´m having a girls´long weekend in Mendoza! Can you say wine-fueled bike tours set against the Andes? Sí, sí...
Ciao mis queridos. I will return with bocha fotos y gran historias.
Sunday, October 3, 2010
The semester is slipping away...
... and I´m still not back in school. I´ve got a take-home midterm to do now, and have been assigned more work by my tutor than I would have at UBA. That said, it´s really nice getting to learn one-on-one rather than missing more than half of what´s being taught in the massive, poorly acousticked warehouse classrooms. Even though my Spanish gets better every day, it´s really difficult to pay attention in classes here, and even more difficult to pick up on what the teacher is saying once I tune back in. Anyway, enough complaining.
Probably one of two things is going to happen regarding the toma. There might be a counter-toma, in which the students who oppose the toma invade the campus, or, they might cancel the semester. Personally, I hope they cancel the semester. Middlebury will make sure we get credits, learn good things, etc., but I just don´t see the possibility of continuing after missing over a quarter of a semester. Also, if it restarts, they will probably push the semester til the end of January and, um, we´re not going to stick around until then. One way or another, we´ll get credit. However, it´s frustrating that we can´t even travel in this time "off" because most of us have internships -- 12 hours a week, which is more than the total class time of the Middlebury kids enrolled at the private university here.
Enough ranting. I just wanted to post an update on the decidedly confusing aspect of my study abroad experience. Oh, Argentina....
Probably one of two things is going to happen regarding the toma. There might be a counter-toma, in which the students who oppose the toma invade the campus, or, they might cancel the semester. Personally, I hope they cancel the semester. Middlebury will make sure we get credits, learn good things, etc., but I just don´t see the possibility of continuing after missing over a quarter of a semester. Also, if it restarts, they will probably push the semester til the end of January and, um, we´re not going to stick around until then. One way or another, we´ll get credit. However, it´s frustrating that we can´t even travel in this time "off" because most of us have internships -- 12 hours a week, which is more than the total class time of the Middlebury kids enrolled at the private university here.
Enough ranting. I just wanted to post an update on the decidedly confusing aspect of my study abroad experience. Oh, Argentina....
Monday, September 27, 2010
I have just experienced the most claustrophobic subway ride in my life.
As of now, I take the línea E subte train to my internship from Avenida la Plata to Bolívar. My end stop is basically at Plaza de Mayo, near the financial district of Buenos Aires. Also known as where everyone and their grandmother goes to work, especially at 8.45 AM on a Monday.
Anyway, the train was completely full when I squeezed on. Out of habit, I pulled my tote bag in front of my body and jammed my thumb into the tiny hole left open next to the zipper... just in case. I wedged myself into a corner so as to reduce human contact, but at the next stop I had to move and found myself basically inhaling the fibers off of some business man´s light pink button-down. Accessorized, I might add, with a tasteful if not slightly Valentinean red striped tie. He was pretty good-spirited about letting my rub my nose all over his pocket, especially because there was a girl with a backpack flung over her chest doing the same thing on his right.
Us three, plus whomever was leaning firmly against my back, swayed tightly with every bump -- and compared to even New York standards, there are a lot. With every stop toward Bolívar, we became more tightly packed. I was so smooshed in that my breathing was constricted. I almost began to panic as I inhaled the hot recycled air of Mr. Valentine´s office wear. Then I peeked around, the chick next to me´s tinsely sleeve tickling my Monday morning frizzy hair, and noticed that a lot of people had their eyes closed. I don´t know if this is because they were all as sleepy as I was, or because they were blocking out the reality of the claustrophobic nightmare of a commute. I tried it, hands pushed one against my chest, the other in my bag, and actually started to feel better. I couldn´t ignore the stank of way too many people being up on each other so early in the morning, but I became less aware and could zone out. At least, until the angry Peruvian mother with two small children smacked me in the face with her baby.
Now I´m safely at my office, a little rumpled but drinking mate with my coworkers.
Uuuuuffffa.
Anyway, the train was completely full when I squeezed on. Out of habit, I pulled my tote bag in front of my body and jammed my thumb into the tiny hole left open next to the zipper... just in case. I wedged myself into a corner so as to reduce human contact, but at the next stop I had to move and found myself basically inhaling the fibers off of some business man´s light pink button-down. Accessorized, I might add, with a tasteful if not slightly Valentinean red striped tie. He was pretty good-spirited about letting my rub my nose all over his pocket, especially because there was a girl with a backpack flung over her chest doing the same thing on his right.
Us three, plus whomever was leaning firmly against my back, swayed tightly with every bump -- and compared to even New York standards, there are a lot. With every stop toward Bolívar, we became more tightly packed. I was so smooshed in that my breathing was constricted. I almost began to panic as I inhaled the hot recycled air of Mr. Valentine´s office wear. Then I peeked around, the chick next to me´s tinsely sleeve tickling my Monday morning frizzy hair, and noticed that a lot of people had their eyes closed. I don´t know if this is because they were all as sleepy as I was, or because they were blocking out the reality of the claustrophobic nightmare of a commute. I tried it, hands pushed one against my chest, the other in my bag, and actually started to feel better. I couldn´t ignore the stank of way too many people being up on each other so early in the morning, but I became less aware and could zone out. At least, until the angry Peruvian mother with two small children smacked me in the face with her baby.
Now I´m safely at my office, a little rumpled but drinking mate with my coworkers.
Uuuuuffffa.
Thursday, September 23, 2010
One last post for the day. Best for last.
I went to the local gym with my friend Morgan, who is a member... I am not. I scooted in all sneaky-like without anyone noticing. We were there to take a "ritmix" aerobi-dance class. While waiting, we power-walked on the treadmills... running doesn´t seem to have a huge following here. At least not in gyms. Anyway, the class we were waiting for is the real kicker. Basically, we spent an hour dancing our asses off with women aged 20-200 in a little dance studio, following a fabulous man with a headband as we gyrated and flailed to everything from Rent to a Madonna 'Evita' techno remix to awesome salsa music. In short, it was wonderful. We decided that this class was a no-shame zone. Not for the self-conscious perfectionist. So with that mentality and a generally good-spirited bunch of classmates, we rocked out and I feel great. I think a lot of gyms offer this type of class, so I´ve got to make a point of going more. Not only did I get super sweaty, I think I made a few friends! Or maybe they were just laughing at me...
La toma
It´s worth mentioning that I haven´t had class in three weeks. That is related to the picture I posted a couple weeks ago of the chairs piled up in the stairwell at the UBA-Fílo campus. The campus is currently "tomada" or under siege as part of a protest on behalf of the students who disagree with the spending of the education budget. Of course, I can´t put in my two cents as a foreign exchange student, but I do know that the campus could seriously use an injection of some sort of funds. Not doing so well right now. The toma has been a pain in the ass because, while not having class is nice, we never know when it´s going to lift -- so we can´t even travel! I was supposed to have my first midterm today, but that´s been indefinitely postponed. It´s been a very interesting cultural experience, even though I know Middlebury is having a fit, what with their hands tied and 20 students who need a semester´s worth of credit. I´ll certainly keep you (all six people who read my blog) posted on whatever happens with my besieged school.
On another note, I´ve just started an internship with a non-profit organization called Responde. They work with rural Argentine pueblos to build and maintain a better quality of life, and are now moving forward to promote self-sustainability in a more environmental manner within these pueblos. Many of them can reap the benefits of responsible tourism due to their locations, while others are situated for production of certain items and have become able to trade effectively with other pueblos so as to boost their micro-economies. My 'expertise', ahem, is in trying to figure out realistic ways that these pueblos can err on the eco-friendly side and not just burn out pretty much the only thing they´ve got for sure -- their land. My first couple of days were spent researching and compiling a report on how to better design slaughterhouses in rural areas such as these pueblos. Let´s just say I now know the importance of really cleaning those guts off the floor before you hack apart a carcass.
Next!
On another note, I´ve just started an internship with a non-profit organization called Responde. They work with rural Argentine pueblos to build and maintain a better quality of life, and are now moving forward to promote self-sustainability in a more environmental manner within these pueblos. Many of them can reap the benefits of responsible tourism due to their locations, while others are situated for production of certain items and have become able to trade effectively with other pueblos so as to boost their micro-economies. My 'expertise', ahem, is in trying to figure out realistic ways that these pueblos can err on the eco-friendly side and not just burn out pretty much the only thing they´ve got for sure -- their land. My first couple of days were spent researching and compiling a report on how to better design slaughterhouses in rural areas such as these pueblos. Let´s just say I now know the importance of really cleaning those guts off the floor before you hack apart a carcass.
Next!
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