And so I fall into the routine of life in Buenos Aires. I wake up every afternoon, make myself the seriously unfilling Argentine breakfast of toast and fruit, walk to my regular bus stop, take the same green #15 to my university, walk to the same classes, go to coffee or dinner with the same friends, call the same phone numbers to go out later that night with the same group... (repeat).
The only things I have not gotten around to doing is signing up for that art class I want to take at the city's main cultural center. My original goal was to join a play production, but I guess the difficulty there is no one is in a play production without being paid for it, which means I would need to find an agent or know someone who knows someone in order to get me into the production. There is no such thing as "auditions" here. That was the greatest dissapointment thus far. I think that is something I will have to do when I get home. I need an outlet for all the pent-up drama that naturally collects itself in my middle parts. Here I have to force myself to remain subdued in order not to stand out like the big sore gringa toe that I am.
That's something else that is hard to get used to. Someone once said that Argentine people are all about individuality here... I believed it for the first few days when I saw the young people wearing funky t-shirts and modernized 80s outfits with those hightop Converse shoes... I realized after a week or so - soon after I had purchased my own pair of red Converses - that no one is individual, but everyone is the same kind of original. It is cool to be original, but they all do the same "individual-like" things in order to "stand-out"... I found that as soon as I bought my converse shoes and my off-the-shoulder t-shirt that I fit in more than I do in my own country! Is that all it takes? Of course not, because fitting in and being accepted are two very different ball games. The most difficult people here are the girls. The chicas are very closed-off, distant, and cool towards strangers (girl strangers). Honestly I see it as a fun challenge. Once I get around to joining that art class I have a feeling that I will start chipping away at one of these iceblocks they call las argentinas.
Tuesday, March 27, 2007
Sunday, March 25, 2007
dreams, what dreams?
Well, I've started the journey of fulfilling my lifelong dream of going abroad, living like a citizen of a totally different culture and learning the language. It hasn't been difficult to do all of the above, but since I've made my way so far down this path, it has made me wonder about the path I will be taking, oh, 4 months from now. I have tuition to pay, degrees to earn, a job to find, a car to buy... but these have nothing to do with my dream. I've realized only recently that I have lost sight of that dream I began to fantasize about when I turned 11 years-old and I started writing my first journal.... Well, really it has boiled down to Emily-is-freaking-scared of failing at something and even more afraid of being rejected. I feel encouraged to write and continue writing for the rest of my life, but I have not yet worked up the courage to even figure out how the publishing process works!
I did work up the courage to write just a small portion of what will become a beautiful travel story, but after the 5th line I became overwhelmed with this fear... a fear of my only real dream in life becoming nothing but a memory of a failed attempt at accomplishment. I have the partial story sitting always open on the desktop of my computer, but everytime I look at the thumbnail I get the same feeling. Overwhelming fear, a tightness in my chest, a rising in my throat like choking, a flutter in my stomach...
I will resume the story, I continue to promise myself, which is why I keep the work in progress open on my desktop. I think this will be an easy obstacle to overcome, but since it is fresh it is only now difficult to handle.
I did work up the courage to write just a small portion of what will become a beautiful travel story, but after the 5th line I became overwhelmed with this fear... a fear of my only real dream in life becoming nothing but a memory of a failed attempt at accomplishment. I have the partial story sitting always open on the desktop of my computer, but everytime I look at the thumbnail I get the same feeling. Overwhelming fear, a tightness in my chest, a rising in my throat like choking, a flutter in my stomach...
I will resume the story, I continue to promise myself, which is why I keep the work in progress open on my desktop. I think this will be an easy obstacle to overcome, but since it is fresh it is only now difficult to handle.
Wednesday, March 21, 2007
the beginnings of the ends
I feel I've handled these past few weeks with grace and patience and I have been in a state of awe and frustration at the same time with this city. I don't try toooo hard to meet people, and it isn't difficult to say "hola" to anyone in class or anything, but it is incredibly easy to never say it again once you say good-bye. I think I wrote once or twice about good-byes and I hate to sound redundant, but it seems to be a repeating pattern in my life here.
I decided to take this trip admittedly due partly to one of the greatest good-byes of my life and since then I've said less-and-less difficult good-byes, yet they are still hurtful. I think I am either hardening myself to the harsh reality that says you can't know anyone forever anymore. If we think hard enough about it there are millions of people who even promise to know each other forever by way of marriage and, still, 10 years later they are saying good-bye to each other. If we think even harder, those two words could very well be the worst two words to have to say to anyone you love. They mean well. They are the polite thing, the right thing to say... at the same time they are sometimes the meanest, cruelest, hardest thing to say.
Last week I said good-bye to a good friend. Granted he was a friend for only a short time, and I had only seen him really for a summed total of maybe 40 hours, but the day came when we were no longer looking forward to seeing each other during our journeys. When that day did finally come my revelations about good-byes came to me and this blog became a work-in-progress. Good-byes these days throw me off for days at a time. I become slightly cranky, a bit irritable, and sometimes in a slump that people don't know what to do with.
I met two of the best personalities here as well - I call them my two best buds. The day will come when we too will say good-bye and I am even now trying to prepare for that day. One sad fact about me is that I wear my heart very nearly literally on my sleeve. Because of this personality flaw I become affectionate, attached and too close too quickly to those I am drawn to.
The other day I met another kind soul who I know will become a close friend here and I know - because I am me - that I will slice off another chunk of my heart, dripping just a little more bloody love on my sleeve, and soon thereafter say good-bye, shed a tear or three and move on.
And so begins the story of a string of endings: my life. The end of eras, the end of friendships, the end of love, the end of Argentina, the end of youth, the end of unforgettable experiences...
Good-bye
I decided to take this trip admittedly due partly to one of the greatest good-byes of my life and since then I've said less-and-less difficult good-byes, yet they are still hurtful. I think I am either hardening myself to the harsh reality that says you can't know anyone forever anymore. If we think hard enough about it there are millions of people who even promise to know each other forever by way of marriage and, still, 10 years later they are saying good-bye to each other. If we think even harder, those two words could very well be the worst two words to have to say to anyone you love. They mean well. They are the polite thing, the right thing to say... at the same time they are sometimes the meanest, cruelest, hardest thing to say.
Last week I said good-bye to a good friend. Granted he was a friend for only a short time, and I had only seen him really for a summed total of maybe 40 hours, but the day came when we were no longer looking forward to seeing each other during our journeys. When that day did finally come my revelations about good-byes came to me and this blog became a work-in-progress. Good-byes these days throw me off for days at a time. I become slightly cranky, a bit irritable, and sometimes in a slump that people don't know what to do with.
I met two of the best personalities here as well - I call them my two best buds. The day will come when we too will say good-bye and I am even now trying to prepare for that day. One sad fact about me is that I wear my heart very nearly literally on my sleeve. Because of this personality flaw I become affectionate, attached and too close too quickly to those I am drawn to.
The other day I met another kind soul who I know will become a close friend here and I know - because I am me - that I will slice off another chunk of my heart, dripping just a little more bloody love on my sleeve, and soon thereafter say good-bye, shed a tear or three and move on.
And so begins the story of a string of endings: my life. The end of eras, the end of friendships, the end of love, the end of Argentina, the end of youth, the end of unforgettable experiences...
Good-bye
Monday, March 19, 2007
Un cuentito
I'm not very busy these days. It is now almost 3am and I don't have class until 3pm tomorrow. This country is the college student's best dream come true. One has only to attend class once a week and they are given a surprisingly moderate amount of homework. For one of my classes (Tango danza) I don't have to take home anything for homework, but I may have to do dance stretches or excersizes to keep the joints limber. Boy oh boy do you need to be limber for this type of dance! I have a "final exam" at the end of the semester in which I will have to choose a partner to dance a somewhat correographed piece. I'm only worried that the boys in the class are out-numbered two-to-one and with my luck I will end up with the dud with two left feet.
I have one class with all Argentine students. There is an international student program that sort of forces students into the same classes. I admit, and will openly admit to my host family, that I have become quite racist. I won't go to certain venues because they are advertised in touristy guide-books and I refuse to hang out with more than 2 of the gringas that are in my program. I have to say I think the nerdy nerds gravitate towards one another... birds of a feather type scenario. I will also be honest with all y'all... I've never been anything but such in my blogs... I may start hanging out with the Argentine boys on some evenings because I've found that when I am in a situation where someone wants to pay a lot of attention to me I am then forced to speak their native language since it would be awkward to just eat and stare at each other blankly.
I have found my venue of choice. My Fridays are always occupied and I'm not sure there is much that could sway me on that score. As is widely known, I am a skilled salsa dancer and I have found that even though Argentina is known for its tango, salsa is also a popular style and my passion for dancing continues. I will have to look up some new places in my country for tango hotspots!
I am a goer-outer by nature and this city does a lot to cater to that natural disposition. I wonder sometimes if I will be able to go back to studying at real University and studying like a fiend - whatever that is - and only going out for salsa on Tuesdays and with the gang on Fridays. I've taken to walking in the park, drinking mate, going for coffee with one of the 27 people listed in my cellphone, figuring out the bus system, visiting museums (since I'm an Argentine student they are all free or ridiculously cheap), writing in my journal, and going out to the popular Argentine-frequented venues three to four times a week.
I have ceased my photo obsession temporarily, but will begin again soon. I will soon post fotos of the three nerds in a pod and of Mel and her new friend who in my opinion somewhat monopolizes my young friend - with no uttered objections from her, naturally.
I have one class with all Argentine students. There is an international student program that sort of forces students into the same classes. I admit, and will openly admit to my host family, that I have become quite racist. I won't go to certain venues because they are advertised in touristy guide-books and I refuse to hang out with more than 2 of the gringas that are in my program. I have to say I think the nerdy nerds gravitate towards one another... birds of a feather type scenario. I will also be honest with all y'all... I've never been anything but such in my blogs... I may start hanging out with the Argentine boys on some evenings because I've found that when I am in a situation where someone wants to pay a lot of attention to me I am then forced to speak their native language since it would be awkward to just eat and stare at each other blankly.
I have found my venue of choice. My Fridays are always occupied and I'm not sure there is much that could sway me on that score. As is widely known, I am a skilled salsa dancer and I have found that even though Argentina is known for its tango, salsa is also a popular style and my passion for dancing continues. I will have to look up some new places in my country for tango hotspots!
I am a goer-outer by nature and this city does a lot to cater to that natural disposition. I wonder sometimes if I will be able to go back to studying at real University and studying like a fiend - whatever that is - and only going out for salsa on Tuesdays and with the gang on Fridays. I've taken to walking in the park, drinking mate, going for coffee with one of the 27 people listed in my cellphone, figuring out the bus system, visiting museums (since I'm an Argentine student they are all free or ridiculously cheap), writing in my journal, and going out to the popular Argentine-frequented venues three to four times a week.
I have ceased my photo obsession temporarily, but will begin again soon. I will soon post fotos of the three nerds in a pod and of Mel and her new friend who in my opinion somewhat monopolizes my young friend - with no uttered objections from her, naturally.
Tuesday, March 13, 2007
My name is not "linda" or "barbara"!
As an average, semi-gorgeous gringa with a fabulous new haircut walks down a regular street in latin america she does not appreciate the whistles, the hollers, the comments... the leering. Oh, I hate the leering. I've noticed though that I must look like a lot of girls named Linda or Barbara because this is what the boys I walk by in the street seem to recognize me as such. I always hear it everywhere I go: "sos barbara" and "que linda que sos!" I try to ignore them to give them the hint that I am neither linda nor barbara, but the very next greeting a few blocks down is from yet another young (or old) man saying, "hola linda!" Who is this Linda?
Well, after only a few days of near complete and utter confusion I discovered that the translation for "linda" is something like "pretty" and "barbara" is "hot"... Needless to say, I still ignore the comments and even have accustomed my foreign ear to hear some of the more vulgar greetings - of which I was also unaware up until this past week. Disappointingly enough, I took my frustrations to my host mom. She is open and easy-going like my real mommy so I feel I can talk to her about everything and anything. I began the conversation with telling her about all the comments from the chicos in the street and she interrupted me mid-sigh-of-frustration to say,
"isn't it wonderful that the men here adore complimenting women!" I hesitated and didn't want to burst her bubble so I carefully agreed with her and changed the subject.
Well, after only a few days of near complete and utter confusion I discovered that the translation for "linda" is something like "pretty" and "barbara" is "hot"... Needless to say, I still ignore the comments and even have accustomed my foreign ear to hear some of the more vulgar greetings - of which I was also unaware up until this past week. Disappointingly enough, I took my frustrations to my host mom. She is open and easy-going like my real mommy so I feel I can talk to her about everything and anything. I began the conversation with telling her about all the comments from the chicos in the street and she interrupted me mid-sigh-of-frustration to say,
"isn't it wonderful that the men here adore complimenting women!" I hesitated and didn't want to burst her bubble so I carefully agreed with her and changed the subject.
Monday, March 5, 2007
The genesis
These past few days have been crazy! I met my host family. My sister reminds me soooo much of Jods. She is super quiet and shy and doesn't make a ton of eye contact during conversation. I decided it would be my mission to one day be able to confide in her like a sister... that day will come soon. We already talked about her casinovio (boyfriend-but-not) and when I realized that my room doubles as a storage spot for some really cool crap they don't use, I felt comfortable enough to ask her if I could rearrange the stuff and go through it so that I could have room for "all" my stuff. I say "all" because I had to leave half of it in Panama.
My compañeros are like family already. I like every one of them, which is fantastic since it appears that we will become very close within the next few months. We are already planning a trip for the next couple of days. We are thinking Uruguay?? I don't know if I want to travel so soon though... Nothing is for certain - asi es la vida, pero bueno.
I will soon be a weirda and take fotos of my room (not so fond of the color scheme, but do we have control over this? no.) and my departamento - which is 100% adorable and liveable. I feel at home there... mostly because I have a phone and cable tv in my room and my very own bathroom.
This is more of a letter than a blog, so I hope you love the info!
My compañeros are like family already. I like every one of them, which is fantastic since it appears that we will become very close within the next few months. We are already planning a trip for the next couple of days. We are thinking Uruguay?? I don't know if I want to travel so soon though... Nothing is for certain - asi es la vida, pero bueno.
I will soon be a weirda and take fotos of my room (not so fond of the color scheme, but do we have control over this? no.) and my departamento - which is 100% adorable and liveable. I feel at home there... mostly because I have a phone and cable tv in my room and my very own bathroom.
This is more of a letter than a blog, so I hope you love the info!
Friday, March 2, 2007
The latest...
We were in Salta a few days ago and had the most interesting fun tour... We went horseback riding in the mountains and wilderness of Argentina. The interesting part is we thought that it would be arranged and a group of people would be going on a trail ride - you know like you used to do at camp - and we would meander along a clearly cut out path for three days.
This was not the case.
Mel and I showed up and only three horses were hitched to the post. One for her, one for me and one for our guide. Our guide gave us a "lesson" on how to ride a horse: "put your feet here and get on from the left" and we were really left to our own resources to figure out exactly how to navigate a horse. Lucky thing I had ridden plenty before at Church Camp and knew that if you kick a horse he goes and if you yank on the ropey things he stops. Mel knew only a little less than I did...
We rounded up the brombies and yee-hawed down the road. Clip-clop, clip-clop.
The first day was really beautiful. Tranquil. Peaceful. I became comfortable enough on the horse to ask the guide how I make the animal run and we (my horse and I) galloped for a good part of the last leg of the trail to "La Puerta del Cielo," which was really just the name of some guys cabin he rents to tourists on horseback guided tours.
I had my first real asado dinner that night. I can't wait to upload those photos so you can see what exactly and "asado" consists of. All this time I thought it was just a steak... boy was I wrong. I think I really did eat the left flank of one of the horses that night... SO MUCH MEAT!
The next day was not so tranquilo. We woke up to an Argentine breakfast (coffee) and headed out to traipse around the mountains for the day. Most of the time I felt good about the ride and other times - the times we were near the cliffs and the horse would slip a little on the rocks - I got a little nervous.
Toward the end of that second day I was tired of working my horse to the bone climbing and descending at a snail's pace and thought if there is just one wide open space I will run this puppy sooo fast... Well, there was one open space, but it didn't end up being as wide as I had hoped. So I ran the horse and my brain registered a barbed-wire fence maybe 30 meters away... yes only 30. I tried to slow the horse down... yanking on the ropey thingies, right? Nope... well, we did switch horses that morning, maybe this one's defective... Oh right, the fence! I got him to slow down, but horses to funny things when they go from a run to ...slower than a run: THEY BOUNCE. No, they jump. No. They are much like a really hard unstoppable trampoline... And when horses bounce they have a funny effect on their rider: they throw them very nearly right off their backs! So I'm sure I looked a bit comical as my feet fly out of the stirrups and my butt off the saddle and then when I lost track of the ropey thingies I had to throw my arms around the beast's neck and roaring with laughter and hanging on for ever-lovin' life the horse stops two feet away from the fence and I slide down the neck right in front of the humongous giant enormous hooves and the horse looking down at me - as though I were the crazy one... I roll around laughing and check my camera to make sure it survived... and then the guide showed up to save me.
Then I remembered one of my favorite movies, Man from Snowy River.
"Whatya do when a horse bucks y'off?"
"Y' don't let 'im beatchya, y' git right back on."
So that is what I did. And after the gate of that barbed wire fence was open, I ran the beast again. The third and last day of the tour ended on a long stretch of road too, so I ran him along that nearly the whole way. It's exhilerating to be on the back of an animal and the wind in your face, bugs in your teeth and dogs barking because you've left them all behind...
This was not the case.
Mel and I showed up and only three horses were hitched to the post. One for her, one for me and one for our guide. Our guide gave us a "lesson" on how to ride a horse: "put your feet here and get on from the left" and we were really left to our own resources to figure out exactly how to navigate a horse. Lucky thing I had ridden plenty before at Church Camp and knew that if you kick a horse he goes and if you yank on the ropey things he stops. Mel knew only a little less than I did...
We rounded up the brombies and yee-hawed down the road. Clip-clop, clip-clop.
The first day was really beautiful. Tranquil. Peaceful. I became comfortable enough on the horse to ask the guide how I make the animal run and we (my horse and I) galloped for a good part of the last leg of the trail to "La Puerta del Cielo," which was really just the name of some guys cabin he rents to tourists on horseback guided tours.
I had my first real asado dinner that night. I can't wait to upload those photos so you can see what exactly and "asado" consists of. All this time I thought it was just a steak... boy was I wrong. I think I really did eat the left flank of one of the horses that night... SO MUCH MEAT!
The next day was not so tranquilo. We woke up to an Argentine breakfast (coffee) and headed out to traipse around the mountains for the day. Most of the time I felt good about the ride and other times - the times we were near the cliffs and the horse would slip a little on the rocks - I got a little nervous.
Toward the end of that second day I was tired of working my horse to the bone climbing and descending at a snail's pace and thought if there is just one wide open space I will run this puppy sooo fast... Well, there was one open space, but it didn't end up being as wide as I had hoped. So I ran the horse and my brain registered a barbed-wire fence maybe 30 meters away... yes only 30. I tried to slow the horse down... yanking on the ropey thingies, right? Nope... well, we did switch horses that morning, maybe this one's defective... Oh right, the fence! I got him to slow down, but horses to funny things when they go from a run to ...slower than a run: THEY BOUNCE. No, they jump. No. They are much like a really hard unstoppable trampoline... And when horses bounce they have a funny effect on their rider: they throw them very nearly right off their backs! So I'm sure I looked a bit comical as my feet fly out of the stirrups and my butt off the saddle and then when I lost track of the ropey thingies I had to throw my arms around the beast's neck and roaring with laughter and hanging on for ever-lovin' life the horse stops two feet away from the fence and I slide down the neck right in front of the humongous giant enormous hooves and the horse looking down at me - as though I were the crazy one... I roll around laughing and check my camera to make sure it survived... and then the guide showed up to save me.
Then I remembered one of my favorite movies, Man from Snowy River.
"Whatya do when a horse bucks y'off?"
"Y' don't let 'im beatchya, y' git right back on."
So that is what I did. And after the gate of that barbed wire fence was open, I ran the beast again. The third and last day of the tour ended on a long stretch of road too, so I ran him along that nearly the whole way. It's exhilerating to be on the back of an animal and the wind in your face, bugs in your teeth and dogs barking because you've left them all behind...
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