itwasntadream
itwasntadream
itwasntadream
itwasntadream


itwasntadream




itwasntadream

The day I traveled through Chile, Argentina, Uruguay

19:00 Mendoza-->BA 

In the Mendoza airport. So have been ready for this moment for awhile now. Chile's nice but I'm ready to be back in my querida Buenos Aires. What remains left of this day is my dirty feet from walking around al day trying to kill time, some thoughts about the Swedes I met in the creepy hostel, and a thirst that I'm too stubborn to relinquish because I know LAN airlines is always pretty generous about their drink servings. I'm wearing my Parque Nacional Iguazu t-shirt and I wonder if people who keep looking at me think that I'm argentine or totalmente extranjera because of it. At least I'm out of Chile now. I've had enough of those piropos from street doors and corners. I passed through the Andes mountains this morning, criss-crossing through the staggering teeth of the highest peaks, mostly dry with the snow from last winter retreated, but with some bits of snow that stayed signaling the highest altitudes. 

I spent a lot of time today thinking to myself but not yet have I allowed myself to think about the inevitable last taxi ride to the International Airport. Tomorrow I have to pack my things. I have to fit everything in my suitcase. I have to look at my return itinerary back to the states. I have to tell my parents what time to come get me from the airport. 

22:00 --> Uruguay 

Well, I'm effecively on the tarmac here in Uruguay. There was a lightning storm and lots of turbulence, and after trying to land a few times in Buenos Aires (much to my horror), the pilot decided to cross the Rio de la Plata. I can't really tell Vicki or Bev or Lucia to wait for me because I don't have internet connection nor do I know anyone's cell phone numbers. Typical. 

23:00 It's funny that I should be here right now, stuck on this plane, stalled. Me-the only foreigner, full with a bunch of rather rowdy argentines. It's almost midnight, making this return flight back to BA a 6-hour flight instead of a 1.5 hour trip. At least maybe they could let us get off the plane now.

10:45 pm. BA-->Dallas. It's really crazy. Buenos Aires is like that, all spread out underneath us, every light in the city lit up, the perfect deceptive grids of streets. It's hard to believe now I'm on my way back.

"what could an underdog shape be?"

IT'S DECEMBER 1st. It can't be. Seriously how did this happen I won't allow it. I know my blog has been reduced to a series of one-liners but really, seriously, I can't leave. I'm getting ready to travel and I'm travelling with a really lovely friend of mine which obviously I'm very excited about but also I know that when you travel, time really speeds up because you're having such a lovely time and so I really don't want for the time to pass that quickly. I'd like it to just stop now but also somehow continue going so I can keep on living here and living out all the things I've been doing here and meeting all the people I've been meeting here and finally I really feel like I get it here and so PLEASE, if you would, for the first time I've ever said this, DECEMBER, back off.


I'm listening to this song right now. I've always thought of Grizzly Bear as more of a winter band, which is why I usually listen to them this time of year. But now it's actually summer. So that's strange.

<<now listening>>


there are so many things about tonight this week that I don't want to forget 

...currently working out a scheme to stay here indefinitely...

it's a love/hate relationship

everyone seems to have a mixed opinion about the wachitorros. either way, they are taking over capital federal

on the causeway

it's almost beach weather. good thing too, it's been too long. three months, I mean.

EDIT: Recently got back from Mar Del Plata with Vickie. Can't keep me away for too long. 

I just really want to start a Camera Obscura cover band.

this is a good way to meet

Iruya

Gauchos

On the road

Not very recently, I took a trip to northern Argentina and visited the cities of Salta, Perico, Tilcara, and Jujuy. My friends and I knew we wanted to check out the northeast to see some mountains and also try to get a bit off the touristy path by going to the Festival del Virgen del Rosario in Iruya. And so, after missing my plane flight out of Buenos Aires and rescheduling a new one for the next morning, we found ourselves at a peña-folklorico one night and almost to the border of Bolivia the next. Also, for the first time in my life, I experienced what it's like traveling on my own; slipping into salteño cafes, asking taxi drivers where to buy a good empanada, and inevitably sharing a room in a hostel with a few guys from Portugal and a girl who I only saw when she was sleeping. At first, I felt pretty tense trying to get around, after being robbed just before leaving in BsAs (this really was not my week) and hearing that in general, traveling solo/sola as a female in South America is something to think twice about. But of course, I was alright. I decided it's probably safer anyway to look like I knew what I was doing instead of looking afraid and suspicious, clinging to my LeSportSac weekender bag between bus rides. 

One thing I started thinking a lot about in the north, now really having to put my Castellano to the test, was all the little phrases and words that don't really translate at all from English to Spanish or vice versa. Whenever I find a word that expresses something in Spanish but not in english, I usually think it's just funny, unneeded, or actually really useful. One word/phrase I heard a lot up there was the use of the verb aprovechar which means in English, "to make the most of." So succinct. APROVECHÁ, I say. Make the most of it. Take advantage of it while you can. It would seem that, yea, English/Spanish - the translation's not that different; "we have a way of saying that too." But really, the use of the verb aprovechar carries a certain weight to it that doesn't hold the same way in English and depends much more on context. For example, walking up the steep, oxygen-deprived hills of Iruya to our hostel room, I told the host how we'd traveled a long way for a long time but were happy to be there finally. "Sí, bueno, hay que aprovechar el día." Later, hiking with my own personal llama by my side, I was explaining how I didn't have much time left in Argentina and my friend told me, "Aprovechalo." Even my host mom, who, granted, isn't the most friendly Porteña I've met, and is actually pretty gruff, still manages to nudge me and let me know I've got to aprovechalo when it looks like I'm thinking of sitting out another night in the boliche. In vidrieras when something is on sale, you'll see a sign reading: "APROVECHÁ ahora!" Don't let this deal pass up, because obviously the price on this toaster oven is too good to pass up at this moment. When someone tells me this, especially coming from a stranger, it's a sort of blessing. It's like you and them are quietly acknowledging the fact that some things can't be repeated. They only happen once. Moments happen once, and while they last you've got to make the most of it.

I like this verb because it captures to me, what is Argentina, cómo es la Argentina. What I've been trying to convey all this time about Buenos Aires. A city that seems to live from moment to moment, reflected in its  uncontested nightlife - the fact that no one seems to see sleep as a priority, a city that drinks more coffee, smokes more cigarrettes, and takes in more sugar than I can keep up with, but for who time slows down just enough to relax during for three-hour lunch breaks, meriendas, or make-out sessions in the park. Argentina to me is a city on stilts; it's jarringly beautiful at the same time that it has its problems and dysfunctional aspects but it's this idea of aprovechandolo that holds it all up.

Also, as an update on the Spanish progress: after coming back, I felt incredibly more confident in speaking Spanish. I think before I could speak fine, but I now feel like I actually have command of the language or some hard-earned right to speak it. The best part was when I was stayed with Nati in Perico and met some of her good friends. At some point in the night, I realized that I'd completely forgot I was speaking spanish with them. I wasn't struggling with how to say something or trying to find the right words; I was already saying them.

get me to the bosques!

Have I mentioned how everything in BsAs shuts down on sundays? It's like it's a small town, except that it's a city filled to the brim with people. And where do all the people who aren't working go on sundays? to the park! on sundays, the parks are full of people settled down for a picnic, a run, some mate, suntanning, anything to be outside. sunday is the day to spend time with family and friends. I have several argentine friends here who seem to have similar routines of having weekly lunches with their relatives in the city. My favorite place to go is definitely "Los Bosques del Palermo" where we went this weekend.


side note: I was robbed today. I feel like it was inevitable; almost. It's that it's just so common here and I think that had I not already been told so many stories and been told to watch out so many times, it would have shaken me up much more. It's ok, really! But oh Argentina, why'd you have to go and do that?! 


Heading out to the northern region of Argentina to visit Salta/Jujuy tomorrow. Chau!

Maddy made cake! I was still a bit sick, so naranja-limon juice sounded like a good idea. 

la guarnición had to be patagonia berries, obvio.

Maddy at our little place by the pond

In Argentina, you have two options when it comes to buying/ordering water: agua sin gas or con gas. Today i decided to opt for MAS gas. Reloco, i tell you.

Ready for more days like this.

i couldn't even drive yet

loveyoupooh."For a little while, we lounged in the sand collecting seashells for our summer necklaces (every time we go, we find just one to keep). Once we found the one we wanted to save, we decided to return the others to the ocean and started yelling stuff like "This is for every time you made me brush my teeth!" or "This is for every sad love song!" whenever casting one off. The last one, we threw together, and yelled, "...and this is one, this is for every good time that we might forget!"

summer '05

hola, primavera

my little mate gourd

Today I spent the entire day "tomando mate y sol" en true Argentine style by celebrating Dia del Primavera, which also happens to be Dia del Estudiante...which means no class for students! It's hard to rightfully describe to someone the laid-back nature that is living in Buenos Aires, but the number of holidays this country takes and the way in which they celebrate each one definitely says something about it. Dia del Primavera is a day each year when la gente flock to the Bosques de Palermo or any city plaza/parque nearby to spend the day picnicing, drinking, playing music, etc. etc. * Some places are a bit crazier than others - several people warned me to be wary of getting robbed and to watch out for peleas/fights - and others places are more tranquil, like the one some friends from my theatre class and I went to today. 


I spent the entire day taking in the sun, celebrating Dia del Primavera!


My day went a little like this:
I picked out my favorite long skirt to wear because, it being the first day of spring, weather permitted. Walked to Palermo to meet Sarah, where we walked some more around the city to find some sidewalk cafe to eat at and people watch. I loved seeing everyone in their summer gear. And it was clear that many people were headed to the parks, because almost everyone was walking with groceries in their hand or what looked like a picnic bag with their friends.


Afterwards, I met up with the girls/guys from theatre in the park. We had an overabundance of facturas, little pastries/sweet breads, wine, and of course, mate. We found ourselves a little patch of grass and blissfully spent the next five or so hours there in the grass, tomando sol y mate. This is pretty typical for Dia del Estudiante, and looking around there were tons of little groups just like ours, all little circles of friends hanging out in the grass. Some guys were playing soccer. Other groups had out guitars and were clapping/singing along. Even after the sun set, no one seemed to be in a hurry to leave. Really, what's the rush? No one is ever in a hurry here. Some of them are probably still in the park now.


*I think open container laws technically exist here, but only technically. If you see the policia, you're supposed to conceal your botella de vino or what have you, but it appears to be just a sign of courtesy, really. Actually, visit any weekend feria and you'll find venders selling Quilmes, the national beer, in the grass where people are snacking/listening to music in the plaza.

Ulises Conti - El Chico de la Moto

I've been loving this composer recently. He's from here in Buenos Aires.

view from my window at nighttime

When you're really far away from home, it makes you think a lot about where you come from. 

July 11th

on the way to the international airport

Also, Texas still rules. 

Survival mode

 currently listening Onda Vaga knows.

legendary dog walkers

Finally. Finally, finally, finally. Finalmente. Finally, I feel like I'm beginning to understand something here. I came to a sudden conclusion last week that really took me by suprise: IN BUENOS AIRES I HAVE TO SPEAK SPANISH. Naturally, for the first month or so of being in Bs.As., I was  in the "I just got here, learning spanish, heheh" phase and anytime I'd ask for a medialuna at a cafe or speak with someone on the bus, it'd always be, "Oh, I'm learning spanish" and "what was I doing in Buenos Aires anyway?" And we'd giggle. But after a while, it gets kind of old having the same conversation over and over again, especially knowing that it isn't really going to help you get any better at a language. So, last Thursday, I was sitting in Havanna sipping my typical miniature-sized coffee, and feeling pretty silly with my giant ingles-espanol/espanol-ingles diccionario on the mesa when I realized that it was time to stop pretending I had no clue what was coming out of my mouth. I know how to get a point across. Certainly, in some situations it's easier to communicate than in others. For example, my castellano is miraculously better when I speak comfortably in class with my teachers at school or when I'm having a delightfully tranquil conversation versus when the bus driver stares at me demanding directions or when my host mother gives me a blank look in response to nearly every sentence I sputter. I've realized that I think I'm starting to get it and (I daresay) Bs.As. too. It's such an interesting experience - to learn a language and its culture at the same time. Suddenly, and from where I'm not at all sure, I'm able to understand what people are saying on TV, to each other on the street, and (perhaps most importantly) what they are saying to me. It's like this wave of comprehension just came over me, and is still crashing.


Although I'm past what they call the "bright eyes" stage of studying abroad, I'm certainly still enamored with everything going on around me. I miss everyone. A lot. Especially sometimes more than others. But then I can't help but to think, damn, what a beautiful place this is and really, there's no time for looking down. Having new Argentine friends helps!


Meanwhile, I've still been exploring the streets and scenes of this place and I've taken some photos to go along.

An orange juice cart/bike in Barrio Chino

the alfajor addiction continues

a day spent at the botanical gardens; so that's where mate comes from!

Juana de Arco fashion show at Buenos Aires Fashion Week

just a cold, windy, COLD day at Puerto Madero

always miniature-sized coffee; even gas station takeout

Puerto Madero is also host to a wide variety of choripan/parilla stands

AND 2 PESO ALFAJORES, hechos de mano, the best I've ever had

there are carrousels in several different plazas around the city, but this one I really liked a lot

discovering nature at the ecological reserve

we found the beach(like setting at the ecological reserve)!

I'll always be in love with the shoreline

nature's pretty cool I guess

produce vendor at san telmo market

cute mate gourds/bombillas! still on the lookout for the one to become my own

crowd sample at the San Telmo market on sunday

inside the grand Cafe Tortoni, the oldest cafe in Buenos Aires

the Tortoni

Entryway into La Prensa, the building that hosted LA's most important early newspaper

grand salon in La Prensa

La Prensa is now a cultural center and the salon is used for tallers and exhibitions

museum days: MALBA

Carrousel en la Feria de Emprendedores Costanera Sur

it's the city that never sleeps, and I have a funny feeling that it might be because of the sounds of the all the cars on the calle, the screeching of the breaks from the buses, some school children yelling curse words at each other in spanish, people trying to pass you flyers that you don't want, the sounds of the tiled sidewalks when there's a broken one and they clink together, rain drops bouncing off the news stands onto the old edificios, and more cars honking because someone's not following the beat, delivery boys on motorcycles revving their engines before the light, piropos that guys chant when you pass (queee linda), dogs barking, old women laughing, una pelota being passed, un beso on the cheek, cumbia coming from a radio somewhere, and without you knowing it, the sound of your own breath is lost among the sounds of the city and then you listen for it, but it's hard to hear.

standard procedure

currently listening Ojala by Silvio Rodriguez - so happy to have discovered this when being performed by a guitarist at the market last sunday


Last semester I decided to fulfill a longtime dream of mine: to own a moped. I had been daydreaming about this for some time and so finally, after looking for ages and quite a bit of negotiating with a local scooter dealer, I purchased my own yamaha vino and a steamy love affair ensued:

baby vino.

For six months, I got around Austin by bike and scooter and when I wasn't dying from the freezing cold I really enjoyed myself. And then I took a curb too sharply. Myself and the scooter suffered a few scrapes. A bus driver called out from his window at me to see if I was okay. "I am!" I yelled, and then I started tearing up. (Ouch.) And then I hit a cat. Yep. One night I was cruising down Duval Rd. and a cat came out of nowhere and I actually hit it going 25 mph. This was heartbreaking for me, being the cat person that I am, but luckily the cat  (and I) were alright. It really shook me up though. I just remember laying there on the cement, looking at the yellow divider lines, thinking "Ok, I should probably get up now" and then having a nice couple help me up and get the scooter running again. 


After that, I felt like I finally understood what my motorcycle instructor meant about always keeping your mind on the road. It's not anything like driving a car in which  you have the liberty of zoning out - daydreaming in traffic or twiddling with the radio station dials. You've always got to be thinking about the road. So on one hand, even when it was beautiful outside - those wonderfully sunny spring days in Austin - and I was cruising along enjoying the ride, I could never completely let myself relax. And I don't think you can. You can only really enjoy kicking back and riding a scooter/motorcycle to a point; to the extent that in the back of your mind you're constantly scrutinizing the moves of every other object on the road and anticipating what could happen. 


Anyway, the other day I realized that my idea of riding a scooter around is similar to my experience so far in Argentina. Even before coming here, I heard so many stories about pick-pocketing and being held up on the bus system at knifepoint that I had a pretty healthy dose of caution. But living in Recoleta, which is considered the nicest neighborhood in Bs.As., I've kind of shed some of that fear. Only this last week when the US Embassy came to speak with our program about crime in Argentina, ironically, did I realize any of that fear. For the first time, I was ALMOST robbed on the subte as Sarah and I were coming back from Palermo after a day of shopping. I had that feeling of "desconfianza" that one of our program coordinators, Victoria, had described. I moved to get away from the dodgy fellow and he followed. Sure enough, next thing I know - I saw him slowly prying my celular out of my purse and I quickly glanced up to look at him - which i think startled him - and it was enough to get out of that situation and off the subte. It was close, and luckily nothing happened, but it made me realize how I really can't let myself get too comfortable. And it's not just me - in our program alone, we've had at least four "cases" already. When I'm out on the streets I'm always considering the time of night, the barrio I'm in, who's going to walk me home later, and whether I'll have enough money for a cab in case I'm stuck. Even when I'm just standing outside on the sidewalk - or in the subte - I'm holding my purse and keeping an eye out. 


Being subconsciously cautious at all times is a way of life here; it's just how people live. I knew the feeling was familiar. Incidentally, I ended up selling my scooter before coming to Buenos Aires.




The week of "vacaciones de invierno" ended today with a mayoral runoff election in Buenos Aires which meant that even more things than usual were closed on Sunday because people in the Capital Federal are required to vote. As a result of this, the city banned the selling of alcohol after 6pm on saturday which meant most clubs/boliches/bars were closed last night. No vino with our dinner! gasp! It's crazy how the whole city can almost come to a halt for a gubernatorial election here, whereas in my hometown back home I could easily go on existing without ever even hearing about a local election.


Photos from winter break!

Toothbrush machine in the bathroom. Not sure. #keytosuccess?

Tigre, about an hour north of Bs.As. It's a delta canal system in which the community exists sans cars and commutes by boat!

Mate!

I really need to start documenting the graffiti here. here's one of my favorites so far, of carlos gardel 

Casa Bar! We seem to go here a lot.

Inside Cumuna; traditional argentine cuisine and superbarato! the only catch is the wait: there's usually a long line of people on the sidewalk waiting for a table, despite the cold

Cazuela at Cumuna, classic! Perfect on a 5 degree C winter day. (heyyy who's warming up to the metric system?!)

I love that even the cornerstore markets have an excellent wine selection.

And a great variety of meat and cheese.

Disco! my supermarket's name is Disco. 

Grocery delivery is pretty standard in the city

ESTIMADO CLIENTE: As evidence of the elections, the entire wine/drinks section of Disco had to be barricaded. 

Inner city motorcycle delivery is common for anything from restaurant diners, confiterias, or my favorite: HELADERIAS! BA knows their ice cream.

bike fleeting in san isidro

chau chau chicos!