A taste of Recoleta cemetery.

Check out the Facebook album I made for the rest of my photo debut!

Being the token foreign chick.

First of all, since it's been a while, there will be lots of random odds and ends thrown into this post with little to no attempt at cohesion or organization. Aside from getting my BlackBerry ripped out of my hand by a bike thief while waiting for the 53 colectivo, life has generally been good. I feel a bit more connected to my courses and have a better sense of how I'm going to survive as an UBA student.
This is not chronological with the other things I'll be writing in this post, but hey, you were warned! Yesterday, between my two 4-hour classes, I went with Ileana to purchase some house goods, including two monstrous pillows and eight wooden hangers. We didn't have time to drop the stuff at Ileana's apartment before class, so we took everything to class with us. Of course, the hallway situation was quilombesco and packed with smoking students. (Ileana had a pillow, too, for the record.) We are trying to smile and laugh good-naturedly at ourselves while maneuvering with the huge pillows and crinkling bags, file into the classroom -- which turns out to be too small! So, having wedged one pillow underneath my chair and the other between me and my seatmate, I have to get up and move to the classroom next door along with my 120-plus classmates. I know that it might seem trivial and perhaps I am not doing the situation justice, but with my "blonde" hair, (yes, I am blonde here), vacant, nervous eyes, and outlandish classtime baggage, I felt more foreign than ever. Like the Swedish exchange student who sort of just nods a lot and is generally friendly... or at least it seems that way. Anyway, getting those suckers home on the public bus was magnificent.
Next story-let. On Monday, I went to this awesome fiesta called La bomba del tiempo. It's basically a percussion-fueled rave, with some of the most awesome drumming I have ever heard. Lots of sweat, dancing like a monkey, and general buena onda. Again, even though I don't look so different from some of the girls here and make an honest effort to speak castellano even with my American friends, people, especially guys, spot that I am foreign from miles away. This gets annoying, but I still had an awesome time at La bomba. Will be going back every week.
One more thing I'd like to point out before I get ready for class -- there is a wooden subway here. And the bus doors don't close sometimes... neither do the subway doors. I just find these to be hilarious examples of really, really old things in Argentina that are commonplace. Sometimes they function, sometimes they don't. I have seen people arc their bodies away from the gaping doors on the subway (mostly the wooden one, complete with golden holding-bars and tatty curtains) and old ladies leap from a slow-moving bus at their "stop".
Oh, Argentina. You confuse me every day.
One last thing. Last night, along with amazing creativity and teamwork, my friends Morgan and Alex -- the Boedoans -- and I made the best dinner ever. We hit up the local specialty shops and made orange barbecue chicken, spinach salad with avocado, butternut squash, caramelized apples, cheese, balsamic... and mashed potatoes. Topped off with hot chocolate volcano cake and "American cream" ice cream prepared by Alex's room mate, Leo.
All in a day's work!
Now, to class. Wish me luck...
besitos

New life word -- "quilombo".

I have come to believe the ardent accounts of those who came to this country before me.... nothing works. Or, at least to the extent that it could, were anything actually looked after. I'm not saying this with bitterness or anything more than mild annoyance + amusement. I have experienced two power outages, several broken escalators, jammed bus and subway doors, faulty cab brakes, and countless futile, half-hearted attempts to revive (the few and far between) computer systems. And recharging my cell phone's pay credit? Usually only works if I wish really, really hard. Oh, and two of my professors just didn't come to the first day of classes. Simply couldn't make it.
That said, I'm getting used to it. They have a word here that I'm falling in love with. Quilombo. It means -- pardon my language -- a clusterfuck. A mild disaster. Chaos that ranges from actual danger to a laughable annoyance. I completely understand why it's a homegrown Argentinean word, though... because it pretty much sums up the organization, or lack thereof, that the city of Buenos Aires employs on an awesomely pervasive scale.
First week of school was fairly successful. I'll have to sit closer to the teacher and just make myself pay attention. It's not as if I can effectively doodle and snag a word here and there to jot down in my notes. Having lectures in the mile-a-minute, nuanced castellano that is spoken here is certainly a challenge. So, the troops must be rallied for that.
In other news, tomorrow I am moving to Boedo. It's a pretty cool area, very close to school, and also close to some of the people from the program I've become buddies with. It will be nice to live within walking/public transport distance of the UBA-Filo campus, and to feel a little less isolated over here in shady ol' San Telmo. Shady, shady. It's a rainy and chilly day here, but I've got plenty to distract myself with.
Until the next time.
Un monton de besos, queridos.

PS Pictures soon! After 7 hours bumbling around at customs yesterday, I've got a snazzy camera... Yes I know, it must be guarded with my life... ch-ciao.

Taking care of things. But not really.

So today I have had my first wave of homesickness, most likely brought upon by the person doing their daily hammering project on the wall behind my bed -- and my failure to do my laundry (for the seventh consecutive day). Thank goodness I am an overpacker, because even in the most dire laundry emergencies I have backup, i.e. that extra pair of leggings with the ripped calf that I never wear.
Either I just don't know what a lavanderia looks like, or they really are all closed on the weekends. I'm going to give myself the benefit of the doubt and assume the latter. The entire situation, however petty, has left me feeling out of sorts and a little bit filthy. I remedied that partially by going and walking around Parque Lezama, browsing the weekend flea market, and purchasing four pairs of new socks for ten pesos. Success, I can ignore my problems for another two days!! Turning my pillowcases inside out... wondering if my favorite green t-shirt is really that dirty... who says college hasn't taught me anything practical?? And, of course, I take comfort in the fact that I can always shop, no matter the country.
Now, I'm going to watch a good old American TV show, eat my crackers and cheese, and think fondly of those I miss at home without letting it get me down. Perfecto.

Besos y abrazos, mis queridos.

Just a thought

Today I spent some time with a friend (Leandro) of my dear friend (Vanessa), walking around the Recoleta area. Of course, I was all a-swivel and agog because it really is a gorgeous neighborhood -- lots of little parks, spectacular architecture, and a design mall that you would love, Kare. But as Leandro pointed out to me and I suppose it may seem obvious to others, I hadn't yet come to see Buenos Aires as a whole, yet. My views of the city thus far were just tidbits pasted somewhat desperately together. Now, having seen the "best" area and some of the "worst", I know just how big this city really is. Yes, that's not quite the right word for, but I'll keep working on it.

Ciao!

I want to be a tanguera.

Last night, I kicked off a marathon evening with some pals from the program and our tango teacher, Marcelo, at a tangueria, where we watched a milonga. There was a big dance floor lined with tables and couples just freestyle tango'ed for hours and hours... it was incredibly beautiful. Our other tango teacher, Barbara, danced with her partner Mario and I couldn't believe how elegant and talented they both were. A fantastic tango orchestra played, and I must say that there's nothing like good live music, especially when it involves 11 bandoleones and some kick-ass violin.
Speaking of live music, I'm off to assist a couple friends in handing out flyers for their music event tonight! It's a lovely, windy day and despite having come home when then sun was rising, I feel pretty good (and have narrowly avoided a buzzkillness... that's a buzzkilling - illness... hah).

Ciao, boludos!