I told the girl I would post her letter to home without editing it, but we can't follow through with ALL our promises now can we? Here I've made a few friends but only a couple really merit mention in my sacred blog, one of which is Milner. Since the letter sort of draaaaaags on at some points I decided to include only the high points. Except with Milner everything is a highpoint, so I guess here's the whole pie.
Meet my friend Milner:
"So as promised here is the update from Buenos Aires (from here on known asBsAs). Although let's face it, you all really don't deserve an email considering the piss poor response ya'll [Milner is from Alabama] have shown in my absence. So, I live with Inez e Ivan, who are the biggest hippies. I walked into the kitchen the other day and Ivan was scraping a somewhat amorphous white clumpy thing into a bowl. When asked what he was doing, he responded, "I am making yogurt from the jar of bacteria I cultivate on our counter all the time." Oh, so that is what that was. We do have good food, however, because Ivan is in the forestry equivalent masters program here and he has this enormous garden with fresh-grown veggies and fruits. They are extremely good cooks and we always have fresh bread, which may or may not be good for my figure. I live in a little room upstairs with orange shag carpet that is amazingly 70's--let's face it, it kind of fulfills my dream of living in a shag-covered apartment someday. I guessI'll check that off my list. My window opens up onto the street, whereoften at night I can hear the neighbor talking to her cats (at last countshe has about 40, no lie) as well as the drunks walking home. I can also hear the roars from the nearby stadium on Sundays or other nights depending on whether or not River Plate (my now favorite soccer team, though Boca always kicks ass, sorry Moo [Mil's mom] for the explicative) is playing that day. Other times, it is a huge concert, like the first Sunday I was here and Ricky Martin came. He was quite popular to judge from the roars of the crowd after Shake Your Bon Bon. But all in all, though the house is somewhat old, and I am forbidden to enter the mysterious room downstairs, which I have come to call "The Living Room," which rumour has it contains a rather old TV (next time everyone is out, I think I am going to race in there and take pictures).
So, I am attending classes at the University, all with international people. and I am beginning to feel a little bit like Long Duck Dong from Sixteen Candles. The teachers, especially this one who is a little efeminite and likes to use his hands and somewhat has a lisp, all talk really fast and I usually end up with my mouth open, eyes narrowed during the whole class (which lasts two hours) until they say, "Estamos terminados." I understand that one! And when I finally do get the nerve to ask a question, the teacher inevitably either dismisses it or looks at me with mouth open and eyes narrowed and says, "Otra Vez" about six times.
Oh and I am taking tango dance classes, yes, I can move across the floor like a cat now, which we happen to practice for twenty minutes every class. It is a slide and snap move very similar to that of the bendand snap if I may reference Legally Blond. Very seductive. Although each class it is like re-living a junior high dance mainly because the class is a little disproportionate in terms of the amount of boys versus girls in the class. Thus, all the girls kind of group into a ball and the guys awkwardly walk up and then don't even say ¨May I have this dance¨? or ¨Shall we¨? but¨Hey, uh, yeah.¨ Very sexy, really. And then most of the time they count the steps out loud.
On a positive note, the shopping is unbelievable as is the food. Today I got a little carried away and bought two pairs of shoes, both leather and very flat, which is very good considering I live in the land of Lilliputwhere most of the guys are very short --or does this mean I am Gulliver andam just really enormously tall? No, surely not. Anway, most of the clothing is made for anorexics, no really. The eating disorder rate here issomething like twice as high or more than that in the U.S. So all the shirts are this clingy material and let's face it, beer and clingy clothes do not mix. But, to my credit, I have not given in yet to the raging fashion of leggings that are baggy with cuffs at the bottom that cling to your legs and give you the M.C. Hammer, poopoo in your pants look, though that is all the it girls wear down hear. That and shirts that show your undergarments, so I'll be buying really attractive bras with lots of patterns down here (just teasing, I like to keep my bra under the shirt or don´t wear one at all - hahaha).
The weather, also, is unbelievable. The sky can be so clear and the parks all are really well kept for so it is like living in a really tame jungle, complete with several types of camels, giraffes, birds, monkeys, elephants,and other assortment of wildlife kept in the middle of the city in the oh-so-famous zoo. Sometimes I like to go running (ok, one time I went running and ended up walking and running more like four blocks, but that four blocks was totally by the zoo) and pretend that the animals and I are great pals. I think we would be if it were for the fact that if I stopped to talk to them I would get run over by the constant pedestrian traffic heeded by the peanut carts that roll down the street selling this amazingly divine manna-from-heaven kind of peanut. So really, the peanut vendors are a huge deal in the movement of people and goods in this city.
Last but not least, I have taken to smoking (I mean drinking, silly me) yerba mate in the park during the weekend afternoons. You drink hot water run through a bunch of crunched up green leaves through a silver straw with a little bubble on the end (sound familiar?) Pretty much all the citydoes it and everyone is spread out and couples are making out (which is totally common and doesn´t seem to bother anyone at all*) and I usually go barefoot and sit on this woven blanket and inevitably I totally fulfill my dream of being this huge hippie who never cares what is going to happen next. And then I put on my shoes and race home and read my homework so I can write a paper and edit it. (hahaha, yes, I still have OCD).
*Making out in public is like a status symbol here. Everyone does it because it is the popular trend to live with your parents until you are finished with school, including post graduate, which makes you about 26-30. Sweet! So instead of being able to go to someone's house, chill out, smooch in private, inevitably the five o'clock rush hour ride on the bus and subte is filled with couples, old ones including, grubbing next to the guy in the business suit who politely acts like nothing is going on as they roll onto his lap -- only a slight exaggeration."
I love here talent for description of our city here, and since I've been the worse of all of us in keeping you posted on the goings on and culture of Buenos Aires I saw this as the perfect opportunity to elaborate a bit on the subjet. I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did!
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