Córdoba

Hey, my ches!

I júst figured óut how to do açcents añd all that fun stuff... so that will make my posts a little more authentic, if not more ínteresting.

So. Now that I've shown off my new skills, I'll try to begin compensating for being so M.I.A. lately. Brace yourself. Last weekend, my program took all 20 students -- enormous, right? -- to Córdoba, a fairly large city to the west of Buenos Aires. We left on an absurdly early flight Friday morning and returned Sunday night. A surprising amount of activities were accomplished in that time period! We visited some seriously beautiful lakes, some really unspectacular 'lakes' (which turned out to be the dried-out river beds that hung out just around the corner from the lake we took a bus to go see, but never did...), climbed a pretty lovely mountain, lunched at the top, fell down many times on the way back, etc. The mountain, Cumbrecita, is in a region outside Córdoba that has a strong German influence and basically looked liked a casual little alpine town... minus the fact that the terrain was nearly identical to that of California. I won't lie, it made me a little homesick. Truly nice and refreshing, though, to hang out where the air is fresh and the only sound was my friends laughing, the wind, and birds. Sounds cheesy, but it was exactly what I needed. That, and the exercise of climbing the damn mountain.

We also got to spend a considerable amount of time in Córdoba, which was a clean, safe (feeling) city that is 10% students... I loved running around the beautiful poop-free streets clutching my obnoxious camera, surrounded by young people who all seemed happy and more interested in enjoying the stunning weather than eyeballing the foreign kids. Anyway, I think it's obvious that I needed a break from Buenos Aires, and I got it, not a moment too soon. All in all, a lovely weekend. I genuinely like all the other kids on my program, so traveling with them to a place like Córdoba was a real treat.

On to the next post. I won´t even say goodbye....

Cultural miscommunications

The other night, Lucia took me to a "hippie" party -- the sort of hippie I've grown accustomed to seeing around Buenos Aires and also in my classes at UBA (which is still "tomada", by the way... No classes, but still have a midterm next week?). Anyhow, as we were approaching the party, I asked Lucia where the party was at, as in what type of locale. She said, "un club". Of course, I assumed that she meant a nightclub/lounge-type situation. To me, to Americans, a club is sort of synonymous with that type of going out. When we arrived, we walked into what looked sort of like a high school gymnasium with streamers and a stage set up for the band that was playing cumbia.
At first, I literally thought we were in a nightclub with ironic, deliberate high-school set-up. Ha. Haha. I asked Lucia what exactly kind of club we were in, where the bar was, etc. She laughed and laughed when she realized how deeply confused I was and explained that a "club" in Buenos Aires is a gymnasium.
Not a life-changing story, of course, but I still wanted to point out how funny words can be, especially in disparate social contexts.

Un beso enorme. Gonna go cook some lunch with neighboring friends. It is rainy and cold and I've been on a James Taylor kick all morning. Must get out the house!!

Ciao

San Lorenzo soccer game

Che, boludos!

I've just returned from my first local soccer game. It's a division 1 team based in the neighborhood I live in, the San Lorenzo equipo. Well, it was certainly different than the Argentina - Spain game I went to the other day, where we sat up close and gave a few mild WOOOOOOOO cheers (yeah, we were those Americans). Luckily, today I went with my Argentinean room mate Lucia and her male friend from San Lorenzo's swim team -- very helpful. At this match, we were in the section where you stand and try to weasel your way to a good spot to see the field.
I went without even my cell phone, but it was killing me the whole time that I couldn't take pictures. Next time, I'll find a way to smuggle in my smaller camera because I just have to. That is all. It was pretty breathtaking. Everyone was going wild!! In the middle standing sections, the soccer hooligans stand on the railings of the stadium stairs, clutching the long banners that stripe the entire audience from top to bottom. The songs that everyone knows -- except me, of course -- are long and actually have a tune. They're pretty offensive, and specific to the area from which the team originates. Little kids were on their parents' shoulders, clutching the poor man/lady's hair and hooting along with the rest of them. Markedly more spirited than the national game, even though no one scored a single friggin' goal.
After the game, the true quilombo started... and I thought the game had been a wild experience. As a rule, the visiting team's fans leave before the home team's, for safety reasons. At the national game, that seemed like just a formality. At this game, I understood why. As the other fans were leaving, the San Lorenzo fans were screaming profanities and upping the insult ante on their songs to the point where I was damn happy there was an enormous field to separate us.
When we were waiting at the top of the cancha for a long, long time, watching the rival fans lose their shit on the other side of the field, my nose really started to burn. Then, I heard gun shots from the other side of the stadium and ambulances started driving across the field. Of course, I asked Lucia what in god's name was going on, my nose and eyes streaming. Oh, it's tear gas. The police are trying to control the fans from the other team because they're causing problems in the parking lot. The tear gas obviously didn't stay put and was wafting all over us. Most people seemed very relaxed about it and simply pulled San Lorenzo flags or jerseys over their faces. The gunfire continued, and was apparently "just" rubber bullets being fired by the police at the rowdy fans. I saw policemen in riot gear taking them down and potentially using a water cannon as well. Ah, futbol.
We got out unscathed, apart from the molestation of the tear gas. The parking lot was absolute mayhem, and getting to the car felt like running around during a legitimate riot. But here I am at home, exhausted yet safe. I'll go back next week to take pictures.

Ciao, siesta time.

PD. Look at the bottom left corner of the pic and you´ll see my little ¨blonde¨head! It got way more crowded... this is when we were playing it safe.

So... I'm guessing class is cancelada?

It has been too long.

Apologies for the obvious post title, and further apologies for the brevity of my post. I'll tackle the missing weeks in a sparse, note-like format:

A lot has happened since I last wrote here! I have "endured" two strikes at UBA, one of which has started today. The first strike, or huelga, was on the behalf of the displeased professors who get paid peanuts, if at all. Today's strike is against the state of the classrooms -- I can get behind that! So all of the desks were ejected out into the street and the few students that showed up for my 9AM class chatted with the professor for a bit in a nearby cafe. I will try to get a picture I took of the UBA stairwell off of my phone and onto this page.

Next. Yesterday (hah), we went to our first soccer match! Argentina vs. Spain. We kicked some serious culo, it was a lot of fun. We had awesome seats and really got into the spirit, somewhat to the dismay of the Argentineans who sort of can't stand us... but, anyway. It was a good experience, and on Saturday I'm going to a local game. Apparently it's a bit dangerous, so that could be exciting. No photos, though.

Also. I had a special visitor, Ian, come to stay with me last week. Very nice! It was my first time "hosting" someone, and as easygoing and low-maintenance as my guest was, I still really enjoyed showing him around. We did some touristy things, but I am not above that yet. I probably never will be!

I know I'm leaving out heaps of interesting things that have happened to me/been occurring in general. I suppose that my lack of ability to recall these special things at this exact moment means I should post more.

Promise I will. Pinky swear!

besos, mis queridos!

PS A trip to Machu Picchu is in the works! Four-day hike on the Inca Trail sometime in November. Muy emocionada.

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