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
I guess you're one of Alejandro's new friends he told me about. That's great. Nice to meet you, Alisa.
ReplyDeleteOnce upon a time (LONG time, maybe in another life)I also studied down at the UBA, and yes, we could sense foreign girls through the walls. Maybe it's because when you're argentinian (or uruguayan living here practically your entire life, as myself) you recall more the miseries than the benefits of belonging here, and as such, a foreign person represents both the new and the unknown... whatever.
And the doors of the subte A are generally manual, they don't close by themselves. That's what the handles are for :-D
Awright, so much for an introduction. Read you around!
--Esteban (Beligerante)
p.s. forgive my Tarzan english