I am feeling a bit lost this evening.
Yesterday, I had my first day of class with my new professor, German (pronounced Hermaaan with a rolled r in there), who immediately turned me off with his muy rapido speech. As Rosa told me last night, after a very frustrating day, "The FIRST rule for these teachers is to speak slowly." And I whole-heartedly agree. Because if the teacher speaks quickly, the student cannot understand a word that is said, and as a result, the student is both lost and she gets down on herself for being lost, even if the other students are lost, too.
The first thing the professor asked us all yesterday was, "How was your weekend? What did you do?" We each took a turn giving a fumbled version of our weekends, and this man, Hermaaan, kept interrupting everyone to correct their verb tenses. Well, Hermaaaaan, I am so sorry that I cannot say that I WENT to a futbol match, but I have not learned the past tense of the verb "go" yet. "I GO" is all I have in my vocabulary.
I would have simmered down if perhaps Hermaaan had decided to then maybe teach us the past tense, which was on the first page of our new book. But no, he asked us to please turn to page 45 - we will start with the imperfect tense.
The logic behind all of this was beyond me, but I went with it, trying to practice patience. But then we got into the "lesson," and I quickly lost my cool.
(For those of you who think I´m a "wordy SOB", please skip over all of this because it´s not going to be interesting, but it´s making me feel better to write about, so I´m going to.)
The imperfect tense, at least the way Hermaaan taught it, is used to describe non-specific events that happened in the past. For example, "When I was little, I went to church every Sunday with my family." If you were to say, "Yesterday, I went to church" you would need to use the PAST tense, though, because yesterday is a specific time. So doesn´t it seem like we might maybe possibly maybe might need to learn the past tense first? As Rosa said last night (Rosa is my sounding block for all things these days, clearly), if they would just teach us the basics first - present, past, future - that would be helpful. Perhaps then our sentences could make sense. Some sense.
By about halfway through class yesterday, I had decided to switch classes. Aside from the ridiculous pace of his speech and the skipping over of half of the book, his entire everything annoyed me. He continued to interrupt us to make corrections in our speech that were too advanced for our level, wrote irritatingly slowly on the board, and generally taught me zero. Zero.
I added it up today, and I´ve spent 18 years of my life thus far in school. So if there´s one thing I DO know about myself, it´s how I behave as a student. And when you put me with a teacher I do not like, I shut off. I will not do any work, I will not try, I will purposely be a bad student. I know, I´m 26, I should be a bit more mature than this. But, that´s the way it is. I cannot work with this person, HERMAAN; it is not a productive or positive learning environment for me.
Unfortunately, I did not get my class changed before classtime today, so I had to suffer through one more of his classes today, and I am sorry to say that Hermaaan broke me. I really am sorry to say it. We were taking turns reading our homework out loud (we were supposed to use the imperfect tense to describe what our home cities were like in the 19th century), and Hermaaan interrupted my description of life on plantations to go into some tirade on prepositions or something. I don´t think he intends to make you feel stupid, but he does it nevertheless, and well, I feel stupid enough in Spanish class as it is. I need my professor to make me feel SMART, to make me want to persevere!
You have no idea how irritating it is to have someone look at you, say "blah woei nwopie ñalknvoi lkna´ñl nwo ñlnvnowin blah blah?" "Um, no entiendo (I don´t understand, my favorite phrase)." "Okay...añlkjek woinwñl lk wñl lkn wohnvx, ei99?" "Um, now that you´ve said it THAT way...NO ENTIENDO."
So when I was finally allowed to pick up my reading where I left off, I was extremely flustered. I had said something slightly rude in English to him (temper, temper...), and I could feel my throat getting tighter and my mouth start quivering, and as I started reading, you know what... Again, you´d think that at 26, I might be able to NOT cry in class, but I did. And then I got up and walked out of the room. Ugh.
I´m a passionate person. What am I to do about that?
So anyway, I made a bit of a scene and felt thoroughly FURIOUS with HERMAAAAN, but after several minutes of pity partying in the bathroom, I came back into the class composed, trying to comfort myself with the knowledge that I was going to be starting a new page with a new professor tomorrow (because I did get that worked out, thank goodness).
And that´s really all there is to say about that. After class, I walked myself over to the city´s Museum of Fine Arts, plugged up my ears with some music from the ole ipod, and tried to forget about it. In the end, of course, writing about it has made feel better.
So starting tomorrow, I have class with Vitoria, from 9-1. I will have to start setting an alarm in the mornings again, but anything to get away from Hermaaaan. Tomorrow is another day, thankfully.
But for now, it is time to go find Rosa for a little supper. And of course, for a little support. Bless her.
Tuesday, January 29, 2008
Sunday, January 27, 2008
Purple Buses and Riot Cops
Good morning, my friends! It´s actually 2 PM here, but I just stumbled out of the bed. I have had quite an adventurous 24 hours, prior to crashing into bed at 9 AM this morning.
The short version of the story is that I woke at 5 AM yesterday to board a bus that would take 6 hours to take me and 100 other folks to Mar del Plata, Argentina, to beach for a few hours, then take in a futbol game, then bring me back this morning, arriving about 8 AM.
Let me start the long version of the story by saying that I had stayed out a bit too late on Friday night, having a farewell dinner for Kate and Nicole with a few other people. (They are heading to Bariloche, Argentina, to do two more weeks of study, then they are taking off to Patagonia for a month of travel. I think I may do a few more weeks of school in Bariloche after my 4 weeks here. The Spanish learning is extremely addictive, and Bariloche is supposed to be amazing - in the middle of the Lake District. More on that later.) The dinner´s just run so long and so late here! So I got about 4 hours of sleep, then blearily wandered down the the city center to get on this bus.
The bus was this double-decker looking beast of a bus. It was purple and yellow and had a non-funcionado coffee maker. I think it was supposed to be top of the line, when it was new. I think that was about 20 hours ago. The bus said "super confort" on the front, but it was quite the opposite. To begin, we didn´t depart at 6 AM as planned because three hooligans were 1.5 hours late, and we actually waited on them! The bus was hot, the seats were unbelievably hard, and well...it was basially just sort of six hours of misery. And, of course, once I´d gotten halfway through the ride there, I was already dreading the ride back.
Halfway through the journey, we stopped at a classic Argentian truck stop. Such a comfort to know that wherever you go, you will find a truck stop. I must give credit to my southern home, which easily boasts the best truck stops in the country. However, this truck stop DID have extremely high ceilings filled with chirping birds, a random kitten wandering around, a huge fire-grill-pit thing cooking some (what else?) steak, and a large pond filled with cod, I think.
We finally arrived at Mar del Plata around 1:30 PM, grabbed some food, and then headed down to the beach for a few hours of laying around. The beach was not the most beautiful beach I have ever seen, but it sure was nice to see a beach. It´s peak beach season here, though, so it was packed! They have these little tents set up all over the beach that I guess you can rent by the day. It´s seems like a good idea, to have a little shady spot to yourself with a table and chairs, but it makes the beach as a whole look very organized and commercialized, which I don´t like so much.
It was perfect beach weather. Lots of sun and lots of wind to prevent you from getting hot and sweaty. The water was definitely warm enough for swimming, but it was kind of a funny brown color that I was only comfortable putting my legs into. (There´s something going on with the water down here. I need to do some research.) The wind was great for keeping me cooled off, but it was also really great at blowing sand all over my body, which was, of course, covered with sunscreen. After dozing for about thirty minutes, I picked my head up to find that the sand had just stuck to me, all over. Just what you want when you have a six hour bus ride ahead of you and no shower, right?
There was this little boy, maybe 4 or 5, sitting next to me on the beach, and I watched him for a while. He was completely lost in make-believe land. He was plunging his hands deep into the sand and then looking seriously down into it, as if to see the future. I started feeling very jealous of him, so easily entertained with himself, his mind consumed by another world. I was excellent at make-believe when I was little. I could spend hours sitting under a tree in my backyard, lost in a secret world I´d created in my head. I guess I´m still pretty good at sending my mind elsewhere when it needs to be (like for six hours on a bus, for example), but it´s sad that we have to grow up and that the make-believe worlds we created and loved have to vanish. I had some good ones.
Anyway, we had been told to be back at the bus at 6 PM, to head to the 10 PM futbol game. Seems like a ton of time to get to a stadium and get to your seat, right? I didn´t really understand it either, considering the stadium couldn´t have been more than a mile or two from the beach, but once we got to the game, it made a bit more sense.
I´m sure you´ve all heard that futbol down here is CRAZY, as I had, but it took going to a game for me to really get it. We got out of the bus and walked down this road 1/2 mile or so to the stadium, and as we approached the stadium, we were told we needed to get into a single file line and STAY TOGETHER. I was slightly terrified. There were cops EVERYWHERE. On horses, on foot - and they were like riot cops. They had these enormous guns on them and were wearing big helmets and carrying those plastic shield things. Once we got up to the stadium gates, we were checked for (weapons, drugs, alcohol?) and then let into the stadium.
The stadium is smaller than an American football stadium but still pretty sizeable. I think there were about 31,000 people at last night´s game, and it was sold out, so maybe that will help for comparison. We got to our seats around 7:30 PM, and there weren´t actual seats, just sort of cement steps. The seating is all general admission, which I thought was really interesting compared to our assigned seating policy in the US. First come, first serve. We got really good seats, since we got there at 7:30 PM, just behind the goal, about ten rows up. The ends of the stadium behind the goals are, I discovered, the place for all of the really rowdy fans.
By 8 PM, the place was beginning to fill up, and the cheering started. Futbol down here, by the way, is really all about the cheering and the rivalry. We were on the "River" side (the team our chaperones were backing), but across the field, you could see and hear the "Boca" side. So for the next four hours, it was just back and forth, cheering, each side determined to outdo the other. I wish I could get a translation of all of the songs/cheers that I heard last night. There were probably at least 10 different ones, and everyone knew the words. And I´m pretty sure they were NOT nice words because I got bits and pieces of them (my teacher taught us a few swear words on Friday). Imagine being at a football game, and half of the stadium is jumping up and down and screaming all - together, "your mother´s a whore," over and over again. It was sort of like that, just in Spanish.
The actual game was great. I like soccer/futbol, I have decided. It´s exciting and very fast paced. Not all of the stop and start of American football. And the players are very dramatic, just like in American football, just a different sort of dramatic.
But the game really is all about the fans and the cheering sections. I felt like I spent half of the game watching the actual game and the other half watching the crazies next to me. At one point, about 25 minutes before the end of the game, everyone in our section just started moving, quickly in one direction, which unfortunately was the direction of our seats. We were right next to the very far aisle, so there was nowhere for all of these people to go, but they kept coming. I was REALLY freaked out for a few minutes because there were just people pushing and shoving, and I got swept away down the aisle. Our chaperones decided then that maybe we should go ahead and try to get out of there, since things were starting to get rough, and we had about 100 people we were trying to get out of there alive.
I was told later that some rowdy fans had gotten into a fight, right in the middle of our section, and so everyone was trying to get away from it, which is where the sudden charge of people came from. I guess they call the extremely rowdy fans "hooligans," and they basically just come to the game to scream swear words and generally get everyone riled up. It was quite an experience. I have a bunch of pictures and I also took some video footage with my camera, so maybe I´ll be able to send that out tomorrow. Oh, and I should also mention that there´s zero alcohol served at these games. Thank goodness...I would not want to see what these folks are capable of drunk.
After that, it was back to the bus, for 1.5 hours of waiting to leave, and then about 6 hours or so of travel. I slept a bit more on the way back, but I was surely relieved when I finally arrived at Rosa´s this morning, showered (and finally got all of that sand off of me), ate, and got in the bed.
Whew!
I am planning to be very lazy today. My new class (yes, I advanced - 91 on my test!) starts tomorrow, and it´s actually all of the same people, just with a different teacher. Should be good...
Til tomorrow, my dears. Much love.
The short version of the story is that I woke at 5 AM yesterday to board a bus that would take 6 hours to take me and 100 other folks to Mar del Plata, Argentina, to beach for a few hours, then take in a futbol game, then bring me back this morning, arriving about 8 AM.
Let me start the long version of the story by saying that I had stayed out a bit too late on Friday night, having a farewell dinner for Kate and Nicole with a few other people. (They are heading to Bariloche, Argentina, to do two more weeks of study, then they are taking off to Patagonia for a month of travel. I think I may do a few more weeks of school in Bariloche after my 4 weeks here. The Spanish learning is extremely addictive, and Bariloche is supposed to be amazing - in the middle of the Lake District. More on that later.) The dinner´s just run so long and so late here! So I got about 4 hours of sleep, then blearily wandered down the the city center to get on this bus.
The bus was this double-decker looking beast of a bus. It was purple and yellow and had a non-funcionado coffee maker. I think it was supposed to be top of the line, when it was new. I think that was about 20 hours ago. The bus said "super confort" on the front, but it was quite the opposite. To begin, we didn´t depart at 6 AM as planned because three hooligans were 1.5 hours late, and we actually waited on them! The bus was hot, the seats were unbelievably hard, and well...it was basially just sort of six hours of misery. And, of course, once I´d gotten halfway through the ride there, I was already dreading the ride back.
Halfway through the journey, we stopped at a classic Argentian truck stop. Such a comfort to know that wherever you go, you will find a truck stop. I must give credit to my southern home, which easily boasts the best truck stops in the country. However, this truck stop DID have extremely high ceilings filled with chirping birds, a random kitten wandering around, a huge fire-grill-pit thing cooking some (what else?) steak, and a large pond filled with cod, I think.
We finally arrived at Mar del Plata around 1:30 PM, grabbed some food, and then headed down to the beach for a few hours of laying around. The beach was not the most beautiful beach I have ever seen, but it sure was nice to see a beach. It´s peak beach season here, though, so it was packed! They have these little tents set up all over the beach that I guess you can rent by the day. It´s seems like a good idea, to have a little shady spot to yourself with a table and chairs, but it makes the beach as a whole look very organized and commercialized, which I don´t like so much.
It was perfect beach weather. Lots of sun and lots of wind to prevent you from getting hot and sweaty. The water was definitely warm enough for swimming, but it was kind of a funny brown color that I was only comfortable putting my legs into. (There´s something going on with the water down here. I need to do some research.) The wind was great for keeping me cooled off, but it was also really great at blowing sand all over my body, which was, of course, covered with sunscreen. After dozing for about thirty minutes, I picked my head up to find that the sand had just stuck to me, all over. Just what you want when you have a six hour bus ride ahead of you and no shower, right?
There was this little boy, maybe 4 or 5, sitting next to me on the beach, and I watched him for a while. He was completely lost in make-believe land. He was plunging his hands deep into the sand and then looking seriously down into it, as if to see the future. I started feeling very jealous of him, so easily entertained with himself, his mind consumed by another world. I was excellent at make-believe when I was little. I could spend hours sitting under a tree in my backyard, lost in a secret world I´d created in my head. I guess I´m still pretty good at sending my mind elsewhere when it needs to be (like for six hours on a bus, for example), but it´s sad that we have to grow up and that the make-believe worlds we created and loved have to vanish. I had some good ones.
Anyway, we had been told to be back at the bus at 6 PM, to head to the 10 PM futbol game. Seems like a ton of time to get to a stadium and get to your seat, right? I didn´t really understand it either, considering the stadium couldn´t have been more than a mile or two from the beach, but once we got to the game, it made a bit more sense.
I´m sure you´ve all heard that futbol down here is CRAZY, as I had, but it took going to a game for me to really get it. We got out of the bus and walked down this road 1/2 mile or so to the stadium, and as we approached the stadium, we were told we needed to get into a single file line and STAY TOGETHER. I was slightly terrified. There were cops EVERYWHERE. On horses, on foot - and they were like riot cops. They had these enormous guns on them and were wearing big helmets and carrying those plastic shield things. Once we got up to the stadium gates, we were checked for (weapons, drugs, alcohol?) and then let into the stadium.
The stadium is smaller than an American football stadium but still pretty sizeable. I think there were about 31,000 people at last night´s game, and it was sold out, so maybe that will help for comparison. We got to our seats around 7:30 PM, and there weren´t actual seats, just sort of cement steps. The seating is all general admission, which I thought was really interesting compared to our assigned seating policy in the US. First come, first serve. We got really good seats, since we got there at 7:30 PM, just behind the goal, about ten rows up. The ends of the stadium behind the goals are, I discovered, the place for all of the really rowdy fans.
By 8 PM, the place was beginning to fill up, and the cheering started. Futbol down here, by the way, is really all about the cheering and the rivalry. We were on the "River" side (the team our chaperones were backing), but across the field, you could see and hear the "Boca" side. So for the next four hours, it was just back and forth, cheering, each side determined to outdo the other. I wish I could get a translation of all of the songs/cheers that I heard last night. There were probably at least 10 different ones, and everyone knew the words. And I´m pretty sure they were NOT nice words because I got bits and pieces of them (my teacher taught us a few swear words on Friday). Imagine being at a football game, and half of the stadium is jumping up and down and screaming all - together, "your mother´s a whore," over and over again. It was sort of like that, just in Spanish.
The actual game was great. I like soccer/futbol, I have decided. It´s exciting and very fast paced. Not all of the stop and start of American football. And the players are very dramatic, just like in American football, just a different sort of dramatic.
But the game really is all about the fans and the cheering sections. I felt like I spent half of the game watching the actual game and the other half watching the crazies next to me. At one point, about 25 minutes before the end of the game, everyone in our section just started moving, quickly in one direction, which unfortunately was the direction of our seats. We were right next to the very far aisle, so there was nowhere for all of these people to go, but they kept coming. I was REALLY freaked out for a few minutes because there were just people pushing and shoving, and I got swept away down the aisle. Our chaperones decided then that maybe we should go ahead and try to get out of there, since things were starting to get rough, and we had about 100 people we were trying to get out of there alive.
I was told later that some rowdy fans had gotten into a fight, right in the middle of our section, and so everyone was trying to get away from it, which is where the sudden charge of people came from. I guess they call the extremely rowdy fans "hooligans," and they basically just come to the game to scream swear words and generally get everyone riled up. It was quite an experience. I have a bunch of pictures and I also took some video footage with my camera, so maybe I´ll be able to send that out tomorrow. Oh, and I should also mention that there´s zero alcohol served at these games. Thank goodness...I would not want to see what these folks are capable of drunk.
After that, it was back to the bus, for 1.5 hours of waiting to leave, and then about 6 hours or so of travel. I slept a bit more on the way back, but I was surely relieved when I finally arrived at Rosa´s this morning, showered (and finally got all of that sand off of me), ate, and got in the bed.
Whew!
I am planning to be very lazy today. My new class (yes, I advanced - 91 on my test!) starts tomorrow, and it´s actually all of the same people, just with a different teacher. Should be good...
Til tomorrow, my dears. Much love.
Thursday, January 24, 2008
Please Send Books
Ohhhh, friends.
I dedicated my entire morning today to finding an (effing) bookstore that sells books in English. Let me clarify, actually. I dedicated my entire morning to finding an (effing) bookstore that sells GOOD books in English.
Every time I was shown to the English book section, it was about twenty books, consisting of Danielle Steel, Dean Koontz, and Stephen King. I am not quite that desperate yet, but I am desperate. I can't figure out why there are no books in English here! What is this, Argentina?
I have never been so thirsty for reading material in my life. I sit eating my cereal in the morning and long for anything, anything to read. Feed me!
My Argentina book directed me to a store that apparently has a good selection of books in English, but I wandered around in circles all morning trying to find it. And my Spanish is good enough to ask the questions I need to ask, but it's not good enough to understand the answers I receive. I hear "blah blah blah libros blah blah mos o menos (more or less) blah blah blah tres". Perfecto! I say, and launch off in the direction they have pointed me.
Needless to say, I am still without a book and am very frustrated!
But I am trying to work on my "frustration" with things. My profesor here, Juan Manuel, says, "Always, I hear you say, 'I am frustrated, I am frustrated.' Tranquile! Tranquile!" Calm down. My old boss also used to tell me I got my feathers ruffled far too easily, so perhaps it is true. But I think that ruffled feathers are an indication of caring, which must be a good thing. So...deep breaths today...books tomorrow. Keep your fingers crossed.
I went out for drinks and dinner on Tuesday night with my friends Nicole and Liam (guy from Aspen), and we witnessed something amazing. We were sitting at this little outdoor cafe, when we noticed that there were four or five ladies sitting at tables by themselves. And they weren't so much ladies as, well, hookers. After a few minutes, we'd see the waiter come over and escort one of them to another table, where a man in a suit eyed them hungrily. After a few minutes of "getting to know you, getting to know alllll about you, " they were off down the street. It was fascinating. I have never seen prostitution carried out so publicly. Actually, I guess it's much worse in Amsterdam, so maybe I have. All of this sent us into a long discussion about prostitution, which I won't get into here, I don't think.
After the prostitution observing and debating, we went down to the California Burrito Company, Sam Nadler's restaurant, for Taco Tuesdays, a little promotion they are doing. Tacos for $3 pesos! And live music! It was great. I am very impressed with Sam and his friends for putting this little place together. The food was excellent, the margaritas were strong, and the place was packed! They have definitely found a niche here - there is zero Mexican food. Just steak and pasta and pizza. Anyway, it was good to connect with Sam finally, and I think he is going to take me out on the town next weekend. Show me some Argentinian nightlife.
Tomorrow is TEST DAY, and I am scared! I guess the classes here run in two week cycles, so at the end of two weeks, you take a test, and based on your performance, you move up to the next level or...take the first level over again. Nicole says it shouldn't matter whether we move up or not because this is a learning experience, and it shouldn't be about how quickly you learn but that you LEARN period. I get what she is saying, but I am going to be sorely disappointed if I don't get to move up. I have been working very hard at the Spanish, so hopefully it will be fine. Wish me luck...
Okay, off to find a bite of lunch before class. Hope you are all having a goooooood day. Much love.
I dedicated my entire morning today to finding an (effing) bookstore that sells books in English. Let me clarify, actually. I dedicated my entire morning to finding an (effing) bookstore that sells GOOD books in English.
Every time I was shown to the English book section, it was about twenty books, consisting of Danielle Steel, Dean Koontz, and Stephen King. I am not quite that desperate yet, but I am desperate. I can't figure out why there are no books in English here! What is this, Argentina?
I have never been so thirsty for reading material in my life. I sit eating my cereal in the morning and long for anything, anything to read. Feed me!
My Argentina book directed me to a store that apparently has a good selection of books in English, but I wandered around in circles all morning trying to find it. And my Spanish is good enough to ask the questions I need to ask, but it's not good enough to understand the answers I receive. I hear "blah blah blah libros blah blah mos o menos (more or less) blah blah blah tres". Perfecto! I say, and launch off in the direction they have pointed me.
Needless to say, I am still without a book and am very frustrated!
But I am trying to work on my "frustration" with things. My profesor here, Juan Manuel, says, "Always, I hear you say, 'I am frustrated, I am frustrated.' Tranquile! Tranquile!" Calm down. My old boss also used to tell me I got my feathers ruffled far too easily, so perhaps it is true. But I think that ruffled feathers are an indication of caring, which must be a good thing. So...deep breaths today...books tomorrow. Keep your fingers crossed.
I went out for drinks and dinner on Tuesday night with my friends Nicole and Liam (guy from Aspen), and we witnessed something amazing. We were sitting at this little outdoor cafe, when we noticed that there were four or five ladies sitting at tables by themselves. And they weren't so much ladies as, well, hookers. After a few minutes, we'd see the waiter come over and escort one of them to another table, where a man in a suit eyed them hungrily. After a few minutes of "getting to know you, getting to know alllll about you, " they were off down the street. It was fascinating. I have never seen prostitution carried out so publicly. Actually, I guess it's much worse in Amsterdam, so maybe I have. All of this sent us into a long discussion about prostitution, which I won't get into here, I don't think.
After the prostitution observing and debating, we went down to the California Burrito Company, Sam Nadler's restaurant, for Taco Tuesdays, a little promotion they are doing. Tacos for $3 pesos! And live music! It was great. I am very impressed with Sam and his friends for putting this little place together. The food was excellent, the margaritas were strong, and the place was packed! They have definitely found a niche here - there is zero Mexican food. Just steak and pasta and pizza. Anyway, it was good to connect with Sam finally, and I think he is going to take me out on the town next weekend. Show me some Argentinian nightlife.
Tomorrow is TEST DAY, and I am scared! I guess the classes here run in two week cycles, so at the end of two weeks, you take a test, and based on your performance, you move up to the next level or...take the first level over again. Nicole says it shouldn't matter whether we move up or not because this is a learning experience, and it shouldn't be about how quickly you learn but that you LEARN period. I get what she is saying, but I am going to be sorely disappointed if I don't get to move up. I have been working very hard at the Spanish, so hopefully it will be fine. Wish me luck...
Okay, off to find a bite of lunch before class. Hope you are all having a goooooood day. Much love.
Tuesday, January 22, 2008
Soapy Water and Scandal at the Bingo!
I washed my clothes in the bathroom sink last night. It was such a simple activity, but it felt appropriate for 2008, for the goals and resolutions I have set for myself.
Life in America is simple in some ways. You´ve always got that Staples EASY button to push. I need my clothes washed. Put them in the machine, and magic! Done! And we complain about having to "do" laundry. I need my dishes done. Put them in the machine! (Well, that doesn´t really apply to my NYC friends. I know you´ve been doing your own dishes for years.)
The "reward" of having these chores done for us is time, supposedly. Time to do MORE! More time with friends and family, more time to get manicures and pedicures, more time to consume food and drink and more time to be a consumer of material items. More time to watch TV. More time to exercise, to fret about our bodies, time to worry about...everything. More time to work, work, work.
I´m not judging anyone here, by the way. These are all things I spend time doing in my American life.
And so it´s refreshing to wash my clothes in the sink. To spend time doing something by myself, for myself. It´s work that feels a bit more productive than "work".
Of course, I do have that American mindset engrained in my head. As I stood over the sink full of dirty soapy water, scrubbing my clothes by hand, enjoying myself thoroughly, I conceded that my clothes were probably not really getting very clean. That made me wonder, what is it with cleanliness in America? Things are so sterile (with the exception of a few public restrooms I have visited); we are all so scared of dirt, of germs. Rosa keeps raw meat sitting on a plate, uncovered, in the fridge, and I am certain it has not occurred to her once that this is a problem. I know all of you are getting nauseous at the thought - I certainly did the first time I saw it and realized that was last night´s dinner. But if anyone tried to tell Rosa otherwise, she would balk at the idea. She´s been doing things this way for decades.
Don´t eat too many eggs, wash your hands with soap and hot water after handling meat, don´t eat fish when you´re pregnant, don´t spend too much time in the sun, and on and on. And I know these things have been proven by the people that prove these things, but aack! The rules! The don´ts! I wonder how we function at all, trying to avoid living and eating and enjoying.
I am so relieved of this mindset since being here. I am released from my routine, the planning out of meals, the obsession over exercise. The general wasting of my time.
If only I can figure out how to stay in this mindset after I return. I hope it´s possible.
Okay, I will get down off of my high horse now! No more philosophizing today.
My Spanish is improving. Last night, I was having a pre-dinner cerveza with Rosa and Gerard (the new roommate), and the Spanish just sort of fell out of my mouth, without too much thought. Nowhere close to fluency or understanding, but I am successfully stringing together sentences! I am making palabras into oraciones (use your context clues, students!). And Rosa says my pronunciation is very good. She says, "you no sound like a gringo!" LOVE Rosa.
And, I now have a cable TV in my bedroom, and while I have been enjoying my vacation from American television, Argentinian television is delightful. This morning while I was getting ready, I was watching the local news, and the top story was "Scandal in the Bingo Hall after the Death of a Gambler" (my translation). The coverage was so RAW! The camera was fumbling and bumping up the stairs of the casino, and everyone in the background was screaming and yelling and arguing, and when the cameraman finally got up to the bingo room, there was the corpse, on the floor, covered with the tablecloth of one of the bingo tables, his sandaled foot emerging - it IS a human! We can barely get this kind of coverage on Iraq, let alone our local news. Sterilazation, again.
Many channels play American movies in English (with Spanish subtitles), but they are terribly random and obscure movies. I find that anything I want to watch is dubbed over in Spanish, though, so at least my TV watching will always be educational. I tried to watch the debate last night, but it was dubbed over, so I will have to read up on it on my own. Of course, some things don´t need to be translated. People arguing looks like people arguing no matter where you are. Emotions and gestures are easily read.
I went to a Joan Miro exhibit yesterday morning, and it was the sort of the same thing. Looking at art doesn´t require a translator. I was at first frustrated that I could barely read any of the background information on the artist or the titles of any of the paintings, but it was sort of nice, in a way, to simply LOOK at the art. That´s the purpose of art, anyway, right? To evoke a feeling based on aesthetics alone? And I can´t say I particularly like Joan Miro. Rosa said she things he´s infantile, and I think I agree. Lots of primary colors. Not very appealing to my taste.
Alrighty, I think I am going to try to go over to the Ecological Reserve before class today. And I´m going to a futbol (soccer) game on Saturday with a large group from the school, and I´ve got tickets to see Jose Gonzalez on Sunday with a few other students. Yipee!
Hope all´s well with all of you. And maybe some of my girlfriends would like to write me an email...???
Life in America is simple in some ways. You´ve always got that Staples EASY button to push. I need my clothes washed. Put them in the machine, and magic! Done! And we complain about having to "do" laundry. I need my dishes done. Put them in the machine! (Well, that doesn´t really apply to my NYC friends. I know you´ve been doing your own dishes for years.)
The "reward" of having these chores done for us is time, supposedly. Time to do MORE! More time with friends and family, more time to get manicures and pedicures, more time to consume food and drink and more time to be a consumer of material items. More time to watch TV. More time to exercise, to fret about our bodies, time to worry about...everything. More time to work, work, work.
I´m not judging anyone here, by the way. These are all things I spend time doing in my American life.
And so it´s refreshing to wash my clothes in the sink. To spend time doing something by myself, for myself. It´s work that feels a bit more productive than "work".
Of course, I do have that American mindset engrained in my head. As I stood over the sink full of dirty soapy water, scrubbing my clothes by hand, enjoying myself thoroughly, I conceded that my clothes were probably not really getting very clean. That made me wonder, what is it with cleanliness in America? Things are so sterile (with the exception of a few public restrooms I have visited); we are all so scared of dirt, of germs. Rosa keeps raw meat sitting on a plate, uncovered, in the fridge, and I am certain it has not occurred to her once that this is a problem. I know all of you are getting nauseous at the thought - I certainly did the first time I saw it and realized that was last night´s dinner. But if anyone tried to tell Rosa otherwise, she would balk at the idea. She´s been doing things this way for decades.
Don´t eat too many eggs, wash your hands with soap and hot water after handling meat, don´t eat fish when you´re pregnant, don´t spend too much time in the sun, and on and on. And I know these things have been proven by the people that prove these things, but aack! The rules! The don´ts! I wonder how we function at all, trying to avoid living and eating and enjoying.
I am so relieved of this mindset since being here. I am released from my routine, the planning out of meals, the obsession over exercise. The general wasting of my time.
If only I can figure out how to stay in this mindset after I return. I hope it´s possible.
Okay, I will get down off of my high horse now! No more philosophizing today.
My Spanish is improving. Last night, I was having a pre-dinner cerveza with Rosa and Gerard (the new roommate), and the Spanish just sort of fell out of my mouth, without too much thought. Nowhere close to fluency or understanding, but I am successfully stringing together sentences! I am making palabras into oraciones (use your context clues, students!). And Rosa says my pronunciation is very good. She says, "you no sound like a gringo!" LOVE Rosa.
And, I now have a cable TV in my bedroom, and while I have been enjoying my vacation from American television, Argentinian television is delightful. This morning while I was getting ready, I was watching the local news, and the top story was "Scandal in the Bingo Hall after the Death of a Gambler" (my translation). The coverage was so RAW! The camera was fumbling and bumping up the stairs of the casino, and everyone in the background was screaming and yelling and arguing, and when the cameraman finally got up to the bingo room, there was the corpse, on the floor, covered with the tablecloth of one of the bingo tables, his sandaled foot emerging - it IS a human! We can barely get this kind of coverage on Iraq, let alone our local news. Sterilazation, again.
Many channels play American movies in English (with Spanish subtitles), but they are terribly random and obscure movies. I find that anything I want to watch is dubbed over in Spanish, though, so at least my TV watching will always be educational. I tried to watch the debate last night, but it was dubbed over, so I will have to read up on it on my own. Of course, some things don´t need to be translated. People arguing looks like people arguing no matter where you are. Emotions and gestures are easily read.
I went to a Joan Miro exhibit yesterday morning, and it was the sort of the same thing. Looking at art doesn´t require a translator. I was at first frustrated that I could barely read any of the background information on the artist or the titles of any of the paintings, but it was sort of nice, in a way, to simply LOOK at the art. That´s the purpose of art, anyway, right? To evoke a feeling based on aesthetics alone? And I can´t say I particularly like Joan Miro. Rosa said she things he´s infantile, and I think I agree. Lots of primary colors. Not very appealing to my taste.
Alrighty, I think I am going to try to go over to the Ecological Reserve before class today. And I´m going to a futbol (soccer) game on Saturday with a large group from the school, and I´ve got tickets to see Jose Gonzalez on Sunday with a few other students. Yipee!
Hope all´s well with all of you. And maybe some of my girlfriends would like to write me an email...???
Sunday, January 20, 2008
Domingo
Hola! Sunday, Sunday. I slept til noon today! I was saying to my friends last night, as we were leaving a looong dinner, "I wish I could sleep til noon tomorrow." And I did! I haven´t done that in ages.
So here´s a rundown of the last couple of days for you...
Friday after class, a large group of people from school went out for happy hour. We went to a bar with a large outside seating section and sat for a couple hours, enjoying the unbelievable weather, a nice breeze, a few cervezas, and speaking in English. It´s so nice to have a small bit of normalcy every once in a while.
I love talking to the other students. Everyone is so like-minded about things - important things - no matter what country they are from. Travelers must all have similar outlooks and senses of adventure because everyone sort of "gets it". And everyone is so interesting. So many different backgrounds and experiences.
After drinks, I had to go home for dinner with Rosa. Steak again! Her son, whose name escapes me now, came over after we had finished eating. He´s about 40 and speaks very little English, and I was very overwhelmed with his presence in the house. I had a very hard time communicating with him. It was, however, very entertaining to watch and listen to him talk to Rosa. I understand so much more than I can speak right now, so I was able to get the gist of their conversation. I just couldn´t join in when invited. We talked about Norah Jones, the difference between American pound and English pound, my new camera, etc. It was very amusing at one point because he told Rosa to ask me if I wanted to go to some party with him after he left, and she said something like, no, she does not want to do that. And they thought I had no idea what was being said! But very funny that Rosa is so overprotective of me. And very sweet. And in truth, I did not have any interest in going to the party. Yikes.
I had made plans to meet up with my friends Kate and Nicole on Saturday morning, so I walked myself over to their apartment around 11. Kate and Nicole are traveling together; they met a couple years ago working with the Nature Conservancy through Americorps. Nicole now lives in Eugene, Oregon, and is looking for new jobs for when she returns to the States in two months, and Kate lives in Bend, Oregon, and leads adolescents on "wilderness therapy" ventures.
We took the subway down to La Boca, a neighborhood in the Southeastern section of the city, where we were hoping to go to the Museo Historica Nacional and just generally wander around. The museum was unfortunately closed for renovations (as are several museums here), but we had a good day nevertheless.
We ducked into a little cafe for some lunch, and I, in the spirit of being adventurous, ordered a sandwich off the menu without knowing what I was ordering (there was no description on the menu other than it being a hot sandwich). And that is the last time I am going to do that because what I got on my plate was what we call in the South, chicken fried steak. Blech. It had ham and cheese and tomato sauce on top, too. (Everything here has ham and cheese on top. I do not understand this custom whatsoever.) I half-heartedly ate a few bites of the steak, ate all of the ham and cheese, and all of the fries.
After lunch, we decided to try to find the waterfront. On our way over, we met a Japanese couple, who heard us speaking English and asked us if we were American. Us too, they said. I will sound so ignorant saying this, but I am going to say it anyway. I was so surprised to hear them identify themselves as Americans. Something about being in a foreign country makes you start generalizing people as from here or from there, and it´s easy to look at someone and make a guess, based on what they look like, of where they are from. I had a similar experience the other day when I passed an Asian couple walking down the street, and I was shocked to overhear them speaking in Spanish. I should know better. I lived in New York, didn´t I?
We wandered into an area of La Boca called La Cominita, which is basically a tourist trap. Just several streets full of vendors selling "authentic Argentinian" stuff. Don´t you want a t-shirt with Homer Simpson dressed up as Che Guevara? They are giving the people what they think the people want, and the people think they want it, too.
The riverfront was just beyond La Cominita, and let me tell you, the water is FOUL. I have never seen such pollution. There was a section of water in between a docked boat and the wall that acutally looked solid it was so full of waste. Nicole was saying that apprently efforts to clean up the water have stopped because it would be easier to turn the water into diesel fuel than to clean it. I am not sure if that is true, but it´s disgusting either way.
After wandering around for a long, long while, we decided to rest for a bit and meet up later for a nice dinner. And it was SO nice. I told you that it´s a late night culture here, but I didn´t believe it myself until I witnessed the restaurant last night totally empty when we arrived at 9:15 PM. By 9:45, the place was packed. I guess, though, if the sun doesn´t go down til 9:30 PM, you don´t feel the need to start your evening until then.
It was my kind of Saturday night. We sat at the restaurant for about four hours, eating and drinking and talking and eating more and drinking more and talking more. We shared a salad, each got an entree, shared two bottles of wine, and each got a dessert, and the meal came to $33 US, after tax and tip, per person. And it was a NICE place. The kind of place I can´t afford to go to in New York.
I am so overwhelmed by how interesting and smart these girls are. They ask me about myself and I want to crawl under a rock. I feel so boring! But it´s funny because they are interesting and smart in a very different way than some people in New York are. Their work at the Nature Conservancy sounds amazing, and they learned so much about...nature...during their time there. They were apparently both on "fire crew" for a while, during which they intentionally set forest fires. They explained to me that wildfires like those that happened earlier this fall in California happen because small forest fires, which the forest needs occasionally to clear out all the brush, etc., have been continually put out, via the Smoky the Bear policy. Smoky taught us all that forest fires are BAD, when in actuality, the forest needs them to stay balanced. If you are interested in this subject, please do some research on it yourself, because I am certain I have butchered their explanation of the topic. I am such a ninny nonny about all things scientific.
Anyway, it was a fantastic evening, and as we walked out of the restaurant Nicole said how nice it was to make new friends. So nice.
Oh! And as we looked up at the moon on the walk home, Kate and Nicole explained to me how the moon is upside down here, and it is! I hadn´t noticed until they said something about it, but then as I looked up, the man in the moon was on the wrong side! Crazy this world is. I wish I could understand it all.
So today is Domingo. Sunday. Nicoleta moved out of the house this morning, and Gerard, a 40 year old Swiss guy, moved in. Rosa has moved me into Nicoleta´s old room, which is much bigger, with a double bed and TV, because, she says, I AM FIRST! Ah, Rosa. Such a dear.
I have had a lazy day so far, sitting out on Rosa´s patio reading and relaxing and listening to the Tango music Rosa plays in the house. I wish I could explain what it feels like to listen to this music and live this life. I am in another world.
Okay, I am going to leave here now and wander around until I find a nice looking cafe to have a very late lunch and do some studying! Love to you all.
So here´s a rundown of the last couple of days for you...
Friday after class, a large group of people from school went out for happy hour. We went to a bar with a large outside seating section and sat for a couple hours, enjoying the unbelievable weather, a nice breeze, a few cervezas, and speaking in English. It´s so nice to have a small bit of normalcy every once in a while.
I love talking to the other students. Everyone is so like-minded about things - important things - no matter what country they are from. Travelers must all have similar outlooks and senses of adventure because everyone sort of "gets it". And everyone is so interesting. So many different backgrounds and experiences.
After drinks, I had to go home for dinner with Rosa. Steak again! Her son, whose name escapes me now, came over after we had finished eating. He´s about 40 and speaks very little English, and I was very overwhelmed with his presence in the house. I had a very hard time communicating with him. It was, however, very entertaining to watch and listen to him talk to Rosa. I understand so much more than I can speak right now, so I was able to get the gist of their conversation. I just couldn´t join in when invited. We talked about Norah Jones, the difference between American pound and English pound, my new camera, etc. It was very amusing at one point because he told Rosa to ask me if I wanted to go to some party with him after he left, and she said something like, no, she does not want to do that. And they thought I had no idea what was being said! But very funny that Rosa is so overprotective of me. And very sweet. And in truth, I did not have any interest in going to the party. Yikes.
I had made plans to meet up with my friends Kate and Nicole on Saturday morning, so I walked myself over to their apartment around 11. Kate and Nicole are traveling together; they met a couple years ago working with the Nature Conservancy through Americorps. Nicole now lives in Eugene, Oregon, and is looking for new jobs for when she returns to the States in two months, and Kate lives in Bend, Oregon, and leads adolescents on "wilderness therapy" ventures.
We took the subway down to La Boca, a neighborhood in the Southeastern section of the city, where we were hoping to go to the Museo Historica Nacional and just generally wander around. The museum was unfortunately closed for renovations (as are several museums here), but we had a good day nevertheless.
We ducked into a little cafe for some lunch, and I, in the spirit of being adventurous, ordered a sandwich off the menu without knowing what I was ordering (there was no description on the menu other than it being a hot sandwich). And that is the last time I am going to do that because what I got on my plate was what we call in the South, chicken fried steak. Blech. It had ham and cheese and tomato sauce on top, too. (Everything here has ham and cheese on top. I do not understand this custom whatsoever.) I half-heartedly ate a few bites of the steak, ate all of the ham and cheese, and all of the fries.
After lunch, we decided to try to find the waterfront. On our way over, we met a Japanese couple, who heard us speaking English and asked us if we were American. Us too, they said. I will sound so ignorant saying this, but I am going to say it anyway. I was so surprised to hear them identify themselves as Americans. Something about being in a foreign country makes you start generalizing people as from here or from there, and it´s easy to look at someone and make a guess, based on what they look like, of where they are from. I had a similar experience the other day when I passed an Asian couple walking down the street, and I was shocked to overhear them speaking in Spanish. I should know better. I lived in New York, didn´t I?
We wandered into an area of La Boca called La Cominita, which is basically a tourist trap. Just several streets full of vendors selling "authentic Argentinian" stuff. Don´t you want a t-shirt with Homer Simpson dressed up as Che Guevara? They are giving the people what they think the people want, and the people think they want it, too.
The riverfront was just beyond La Cominita, and let me tell you, the water is FOUL. I have never seen such pollution. There was a section of water in between a docked boat and the wall that acutally looked solid it was so full of waste. Nicole was saying that apprently efforts to clean up the water have stopped because it would be easier to turn the water into diesel fuel than to clean it. I am not sure if that is true, but it´s disgusting either way.
After wandering around for a long, long while, we decided to rest for a bit and meet up later for a nice dinner. And it was SO nice. I told you that it´s a late night culture here, but I didn´t believe it myself until I witnessed the restaurant last night totally empty when we arrived at 9:15 PM. By 9:45, the place was packed. I guess, though, if the sun doesn´t go down til 9:30 PM, you don´t feel the need to start your evening until then.
It was my kind of Saturday night. We sat at the restaurant for about four hours, eating and drinking and talking and eating more and drinking more and talking more. We shared a salad, each got an entree, shared two bottles of wine, and each got a dessert, and the meal came to $33 US, after tax and tip, per person. And it was a NICE place. The kind of place I can´t afford to go to in New York.
I am so overwhelmed by how interesting and smart these girls are. They ask me about myself and I want to crawl under a rock. I feel so boring! But it´s funny because they are interesting and smart in a very different way than some people in New York are. Their work at the Nature Conservancy sounds amazing, and they learned so much about...nature...during their time there. They were apparently both on "fire crew" for a while, during which they intentionally set forest fires. They explained to me that wildfires like those that happened earlier this fall in California happen because small forest fires, which the forest needs occasionally to clear out all the brush, etc., have been continually put out, via the Smoky the Bear policy. Smoky taught us all that forest fires are BAD, when in actuality, the forest needs them to stay balanced. If you are interested in this subject, please do some research on it yourself, because I am certain I have butchered their explanation of the topic. I am such a ninny nonny about all things scientific.
Anyway, it was a fantastic evening, and as we walked out of the restaurant Nicole said how nice it was to make new friends. So nice.
Oh! And as we looked up at the moon on the walk home, Kate and Nicole explained to me how the moon is upside down here, and it is! I hadn´t noticed until they said something about it, but then as I looked up, the man in the moon was on the wrong side! Crazy this world is. I wish I could understand it all.
So today is Domingo. Sunday. Nicoleta moved out of the house this morning, and Gerard, a 40 year old Swiss guy, moved in. Rosa has moved me into Nicoleta´s old room, which is much bigger, with a double bed and TV, because, she says, I AM FIRST! Ah, Rosa. Such a dear.
I have had a lazy day so far, sitting out on Rosa´s patio reading and relaxing and listening to the Tango music Rosa plays in the house. I wish I could explain what it feels like to listen to this music and live this life. I am in another world.
Okay, I am going to leave here now and wander around until I find a nice looking cafe to have a very late lunch and do some studying! Love to you all.
Friday, January 18, 2008
Pictures!
Happy Friday, everyone! As a reward for making it through the week, you get...pictures!
http://picasaweb.google.com/ellen.bucy
Enjoy!
http://picasaweb.google.com/ellen.bucy
Enjoy!
Wednesday, January 16, 2008
Nightlife, etc.
I think Rosa is very concerned that I have not been "going out" in the evenings, and I am having a difficult time explaining to her that I came here to learn Spanish and experience culture, not to go running around in clubs and getting drunk. That, I can do anywhere I like. Sorry to say, but getting drunk is getting drunk, no matter where you are. I know, I know. I can hear all of my girlfriends sighing deeply right now. Debbie Downer! But this is my trip, and I will do with it what I like!
And it´s not that I don´t want to go out at all. It´s just that I am trying to get my bearings, and rowdy clubs are not on my list of things I want to get out of this experience (or any experience for that matter). Been there.
But I understand why Rosa is concerned. This is a night-life culture. Dinner is rarely served before 9 PM, so going out before midnight is unheard of. And I think Rosa is used to a certain kind of American student. Probably a college-aged one, who still has a few kinks they need to work out of their system.
Last night, however, I did go out. My school arranges different activities for us every night, and last night it was tango lessons and then dancing afterwards. The tango class was something of a disaster. Too many people, lots of stepping on feet, dancing awkwardly with Argentinians who cannot understand you and whom you cannot understand. I danced with one guy, probably about my age, who was very silly and kept giggling as he rammed me into other couples, and then with another older man, who was very proud and rico suave. Eek. But it was fun to be out with the other students. And the tango teachers did a little demonstration, which was very cool. I definitely want to go see a tango show while I am here. Everyone here, including Rosa, is obsessed with it.
After the tango lesson, we piled into cabs to go to some club (also arranged by the school). Oy. It was a riot. It was GINORMOUS. I cannot think of anywhere I have been that was this big. Maybe some places in London, but nowhere in New York. It was a huge warehouse type space with three balconies looking over the central dance floor. And the music! Classic. Terrible 80s and 90s American pop. Oh, and a few of today´s goodies. Madonna, Prince, Kriss Kross (Jump, jump! I´m not kidding.) were all on the list. The other American girls and I were looking at each other like, what is this? Come to Argentina for this? But we had a good time being very silly and combatting the VERY aggressive Argentian men. (Very much like Italian men, full of bravado and machismo and certain that if they tell you you are beautiful enough times, you will just turn into a puddle at their feet. Ha!)
I had fun, but I tried to explain to Rosa this morning that it was amusing but not really for me. She is all into psychologizing me, which I am slightly uncomfortable with. Her assessment of me at the moment is that I am very quiet and very serious, but very sweet. Rosa, I am quiet because I cannot speak to you! But in truth, she probably has me pegged. She told me this morning that I am different from all the young people because I no like to go in the clubs. How can I explain to her that I am not in college and want to just be calm and focus on Spanish?
Rosa is a dear, though. She has breakfast laid out for me every morning when I wake up (just cereal and fruit and coffee - Argentinians do not eat breakfast, probably because they eat dinner so late!), and fixes a lovely dinner for me every night (steak or chicken or pasta, always with soup or salad before - good thing I am walking so much). She is constantly fussing over me. Do you sleep good? Do you want water? Do your air conditioner work good?
The communication with her (and other Spanish speakers) is beginning to get frustrating. There are so many things I want to say, but I do not have the words! She asked me this morning, in Spanish, if I was tired, and I, as usual, looked at her hopefully and smiled blankly (my I don´t get it face), and she said, ¨You MUST remember: Estoy casanda! I am tired. You MUST learn.¨Rosa! I am trying! I just woke up. My brain es no funcionado yet. But she is right.
And I am gradually remembering some things. And listening to other Spanish speakers is becoming slightly more clear. And gradually, signs on the street have meaning. I walked by La Relojeria the other day, and before I could see in the windows I thought, this must be a watch shop (reloj is clock or watch in Spanish). And I was right! Baby steps.
There are too many things to write about at the moment, so I am going to spew a few random details at you. The weather is heaven. Hot, hot during the day, but unbelievably pleasant in the evenings. The sun doesn´t go down til 9:30 pm. Heaven. There are these amazing birds I saw in la jardin the other morning. They are small and bright green and make quite a racket! Las Cotorras, they are called. Beautiful. Mi escuela is a large old, beautiful building. I love it there. It reminds me a lot of the older buildings at IU. Beautiful domed ceilings and hard wood floors. My teacher is GREAT. He is very patient with us (and we are whittled down to three now - Charlie, the London guy, decided he was a bit too advanced for us), and I feel like I understand Spanish the most when I am in class. The class is conducted entirely in Spanish. Occasionally, if he can tell we are getting really frustrated, he will give a brief explanation in English, but otherwise, Spanish all the way. As it should be. $300 pesos is $98 US, and it goes quite a ways. I withdrew $300 pesos on Sunday when I arrived, and I have $110 pesos left. A very large (large!) bottle of Isenbeck beer last night was $5 pesos. Divide that by 3...that´s like $1.50 US. Nothing. I think I can make the monies last me a very long time down here!
Okay, I need to go find un cafe to have un cafe and to complete mi tarea (homework) before class. Oh, I still have not downloaded my photos. I was hoping to do that during this session, but unfortuantely none of the computers´usb ports are working, so...another time. Ciao!
And it´s not that I don´t want to go out at all. It´s just that I am trying to get my bearings, and rowdy clubs are not on my list of things I want to get out of this experience (or any experience for that matter). Been there.
But I understand why Rosa is concerned. This is a night-life culture. Dinner is rarely served before 9 PM, so going out before midnight is unheard of. And I think Rosa is used to a certain kind of American student. Probably a college-aged one, who still has a few kinks they need to work out of their system.
Last night, however, I did go out. My school arranges different activities for us every night, and last night it was tango lessons and then dancing afterwards. The tango class was something of a disaster. Too many people, lots of stepping on feet, dancing awkwardly with Argentinians who cannot understand you and whom you cannot understand. I danced with one guy, probably about my age, who was very silly and kept giggling as he rammed me into other couples, and then with another older man, who was very proud and rico suave. Eek. But it was fun to be out with the other students. And the tango teachers did a little demonstration, which was very cool. I definitely want to go see a tango show while I am here. Everyone here, including Rosa, is obsessed with it.
After the tango lesson, we piled into cabs to go to some club (also arranged by the school). Oy. It was a riot. It was GINORMOUS. I cannot think of anywhere I have been that was this big. Maybe some places in London, but nowhere in New York. It was a huge warehouse type space with three balconies looking over the central dance floor. And the music! Classic. Terrible 80s and 90s American pop. Oh, and a few of today´s goodies. Madonna, Prince, Kriss Kross (Jump, jump! I´m not kidding.) were all on the list. The other American girls and I were looking at each other like, what is this? Come to Argentina for this? But we had a good time being very silly and combatting the VERY aggressive Argentian men. (Very much like Italian men, full of bravado and machismo and certain that if they tell you you are beautiful enough times, you will just turn into a puddle at their feet. Ha!)
I had fun, but I tried to explain to Rosa this morning that it was amusing but not really for me. She is all into psychologizing me, which I am slightly uncomfortable with. Her assessment of me at the moment is that I am very quiet and very serious, but very sweet. Rosa, I am quiet because I cannot speak to you! But in truth, she probably has me pegged. She told me this morning that I am different from all the young people because I no like to go in the clubs. How can I explain to her that I am not in college and want to just be calm and focus on Spanish?
Rosa is a dear, though. She has breakfast laid out for me every morning when I wake up (just cereal and fruit and coffee - Argentinians do not eat breakfast, probably because they eat dinner so late!), and fixes a lovely dinner for me every night (steak or chicken or pasta, always with soup or salad before - good thing I am walking so much). She is constantly fussing over me. Do you sleep good? Do you want water? Do your air conditioner work good?
The communication with her (and other Spanish speakers) is beginning to get frustrating. There are so many things I want to say, but I do not have the words! She asked me this morning, in Spanish, if I was tired, and I, as usual, looked at her hopefully and smiled blankly (my I don´t get it face), and she said, ¨You MUST remember: Estoy casanda! I am tired. You MUST learn.¨Rosa! I am trying! I just woke up. My brain es no funcionado yet. But she is right.
And I am gradually remembering some things. And listening to other Spanish speakers is becoming slightly more clear. And gradually, signs on the street have meaning. I walked by La Relojeria the other day, and before I could see in the windows I thought, this must be a watch shop (reloj is clock or watch in Spanish). And I was right! Baby steps.
There are too many things to write about at the moment, so I am going to spew a few random details at you. The weather is heaven. Hot, hot during the day, but unbelievably pleasant in the evenings. The sun doesn´t go down til 9:30 pm. Heaven. There are these amazing birds I saw in la jardin the other morning. They are small and bright green and make quite a racket! Las Cotorras, they are called. Beautiful. Mi escuela is a large old, beautiful building. I love it there. It reminds me a lot of the older buildings at IU. Beautiful domed ceilings and hard wood floors. My teacher is GREAT. He is very patient with us (and we are whittled down to three now - Charlie, the London guy, decided he was a bit too advanced for us), and I feel like I understand Spanish the most when I am in class. The class is conducted entirely in Spanish. Occasionally, if he can tell we are getting really frustrated, he will give a brief explanation in English, but otherwise, Spanish all the way. As it should be. $300 pesos is $98 US, and it goes quite a ways. I withdrew $300 pesos on Sunday when I arrived, and I have $110 pesos left. A very large (large!) bottle of Isenbeck beer last night was $5 pesos. Divide that by 3...that´s like $1.50 US. Nothing. I think I can make the monies last me a very long time down here!
Okay, I need to go find un cafe to have un cafe and to complete mi tarea (homework) before class. Oh, I still have not downloaded my photos. I was hoping to do that during this session, but unfortuantely none of the computers´usb ports are working, so...another time. Ciao!
Tuesday, January 15, 2008
Cemetaries and Conjugacions
Hello, hello! Day three here, and lots to fill you in on!
Yesterday was a LONG day. I got up around 7 AM (which is, by the way 4 AM EST - a much bigger time difference than I was expecting), had a quick breakfast of corn flakes and a banana and coffee, and then hopped onto the number 12 bus to take me to escuela. Mi casa is in the northern section of Palermo, on Av. Santa Fe, and the school is east of there, in Recoleta. It´s about a 20 minute bus ride. You can also take the subway, but Rosa has advised me against it (basically just because it´s hot and crowded and you can´t be guaranteed a seat). We were supposed to be there at 8 AM for a placement test, but they actually only made those of us who spoke a little Spanish take the test. In other words, I did not have to take the test because I know nothing! So it was milling around for about an hour, waiting on the test-takers to finish up, and then they handed us each a text book with our class assignments. (Mine is 2 PM - 6 PM; I think I will adjust to this schedule rather well!)
There were probably 50 or so new students yesterday, and they are from everywhere! There are maybe 6 other Americans (all from the West - three from San Francisco, 2 from Portland, 1 frm Aspen), but I´d say the majority of the students are easily from Sweden! Of course, those smart Swedes all speak English, too. There are a few Canadians, at least one Frenchman, an older German couple, some Swiss folks, English, etc. A very diverse group, I think.
Anyway, after I got my class assignment, it was about 9:30 AM, so I had quite a bit of time to kill before class. So I went and sat down in a nearby park to gather myself and study my map (I am trying very hard to not be the tourist standing on the sidewalk, staring confused at my enormous map.) I discovered that my school is very close to the famous Recoleta Cemetary, so I made my wondered my way up there.
The cemetary is amazing. It´s all enclosed by high walls, but it´s right smack in the middle of everything. From the sidewalks of the trendy little neighborhood surrounding it, you can see the tops of the monuments peaking out, marble and elegant and imposing. I walked probably halfway around it before finding the entrance, which is a large white gate of a thing, with the words, ¨Requiescant in Pace¨ (I will let you translate that one yourselves) written in large gold letters above.
Once inside, the cemetary is its own city. There are literally little walkways, like roads, that form a grid throughout the cemetary, so you can just wander around forever, up one path, down another. There are shady trees lining the main drags, and there are cats everywhere! The monuments range from old and crumbling to modern and sleek, and each one is different. Most of them are very tall, and many have an angel perching on the stop of a tall spire, with its hands in prayer up to the sky. I love marble sculptures like this and took many (many!) pictures, which I am going to try to download later today. I did not see Eva Peron´s grave. I know, I know. But I felt kind of "eh" about it, and I couldn´t find it, and I didn´t feel like going to the trouble of going up to someone and saying, "Eva Peron?"
After that, I popped into a bookshop and picked up a Spanish-English dictionary (no, I did not have one yet), and a Spanish phrasebook, which has been very handy so far. I then had maybe an hour or so to kill before class, and I was sweaty and exhausted, and wanted to just cool my heels, study my new books, and have some agua! I wandered into a little cafe, and geez, I didn´t even know how to ask for a table. I stood in the middle of the cafe rather awkwardly for a minute, not knowing whether to seat myself or ask, and finally the waitstaff, gathered at the bar, looked at me expectantly, and I muttered, "No habla Espanol?" They looked at me like, oh shit, and then I boldly said, "Quisiera un cafe" (I would like a coffee), and a waitress finally motioned for me to sit anywhere I would like, and so I did.
While sitting in the cafe, I found the phrase for, "I would like the bill, please" so there were no more awkward moments there.
I had to be back at school at 1 PM for a welcome lunch, which consisted of egg salad and ham sandwiches - that´s together, not separate. Interesting. The staff of the school introduced themselves and yada yada.
Then we were dismissed for class. They have split us up into classes of 4! In my class is Emily from London, Charlie from London, and Camilla from Sweden (though she is curently living in Amsterdam), and oh yes, Juan Manuel, el profesor. Juan Manuel is 23 years old and is probably the equivalent of an American who has just gotten out of school and is going to teach English somewhere before they figure out what they really want to do (only he is teaching Spanish). This is his first time teaching a group class, and I think we are exhausting him. After class yesterday, I was walking out with him and another student, and he asked the student if he had a smoke. He went on to explain that he had given up cigarettes for the day but after class, he had to have one. Oops! I think he must be muy frustrated.
But class is good. And I am the nerd that sits right next to the teacher and asks too many questions and pats myself on the back when I get something right. I am so determined to learn this! It really is unfortunate that we are forced to learn languages during college when we could not care less about actually learning them. When we choose to learn something because we really want to learn it, it´s much more effective. I went home after class last night and studied my vocabulary and did my homework and wrote down useful verbs and phrases. Dork!
But I will say that after one day of class and studying on my own, I am making some progress. Over steak last night, I told Rosa that the cemetary had lots of cats and the school was very beautiful. She is still speaking to me in English a lot because she gets that I don´t get it, but we are taking baby steps here. I will get it.
Okay, I am sitting in the school now, on a short break during class, trying furiously to finish this post! I was going to try to write about what I did this morning, but I will wait til tomorrow to get into that. Don´t want you to have too much to read, after all!
Yesterday was a LONG day. I got up around 7 AM (which is, by the way 4 AM EST - a much bigger time difference than I was expecting), had a quick breakfast of corn flakes and a banana and coffee, and then hopped onto the number 12 bus to take me to escuela. Mi casa is in the northern section of Palermo, on Av. Santa Fe, and the school is east of there, in Recoleta. It´s about a 20 minute bus ride. You can also take the subway, but Rosa has advised me against it (basically just because it´s hot and crowded and you can´t be guaranteed a seat). We were supposed to be there at 8 AM for a placement test, but they actually only made those of us who spoke a little Spanish take the test. In other words, I did not have to take the test because I know nothing! So it was milling around for about an hour, waiting on the test-takers to finish up, and then they handed us each a text book with our class assignments. (Mine is 2 PM - 6 PM; I think I will adjust to this schedule rather well!)
There were probably 50 or so new students yesterday, and they are from everywhere! There are maybe 6 other Americans (all from the West - three from San Francisco, 2 from Portland, 1 frm Aspen), but I´d say the majority of the students are easily from Sweden! Of course, those smart Swedes all speak English, too. There are a few Canadians, at least one Frenchman, an older German couple, some Swiss folks, English, etc. A very diverse group, I think.
Anyway, after I got my class assignment, it was about 9:30 AM, so I had quite a bit of time to kill before class. So I went and sat down in a nearby park to gather myself and study my map (I am trying very hard to not be the tourist standing on the sidewalk, staring confused at my enormous map.) I discovered that my school is very close to the famous Recoleta Cemetary, so I made my wondered my way up there.
The cemetary is amazing. It´s all enclosed by high walls, but it´s right smack in the middle of everything. From the sidewalks of the trendy little neighborhood surrounding it, you can see the tops of the monuments peaking out, marble and elegant and imposing. I walked probably halfway around it before finding the entrance, which is a large white gate of a thing, with the words, ¨Requiescant in Pace¨ (I will let you translate that one yourselves) written in large gold letters above.
Once inside, the cemetary is its own city. There are literally little walkways, like roads, that form a grid throughout the cemetary, so you can just wander around forever, up one path, down another. There are shady trees lining the main drags, and there are cats everywhere! The monuments range from old and crumbling to modern and sleek, and each one is different. Most of them are very tall, and many have an angel perching on the stop of a tall spire, with its hands in prayer up to the sky. I love marble sculptures like this and took many (many!) pictures, which I am going to try to download later today. I did not see Eva Peron´s grave. I know, I know. But I felt kind of "eh" about it, and I couldn´t find it, and I didn´t feel like going to the trouble of going up to someone and saying, "Eva Peron?"
After that, I popped into a bookshop and picked up a Spanish-English dictionary (no, I did not have one yet), and a Spanish phrasebook, which has been very handy so far. I then had maybe an hour or so to kill before class, and I was sweaty and exhausted, and wanted to just cool my heels, study my new books, and have some agua! I wandered into a little cafe, and geez, I didn´t even know how to ask for a table. I stood in the middle of the cafe rather awkwardly for a minute, not knowing whether to seat myself or ask, and finally the waitstaff, gathered at the bar, looked at me expectantly, and I muttered, "No habla Espanol?" They looked at me like, oh shit, and then I boldly said, "Quisiera un cafe" (I would like a coffee), and a waitress finally motioned for me to sit anywhere I would like, and so I did.
While sitting in the cafe, I found the phrase for, "I would like the bill, please" so there were no more awkward moments there.
I had to be back at school at 1 PM for a welcome lunch, which consisted of egg salad and ham sandwiches - that´s together, not separate. Interesting. The staff of the school introduced themselves and yada yada.
Then we were dismissed for class. They have split us up into classes of 4! In my class is Emily from London, Charlie from London, and Camilla from Sweden (though she is curently living in Amsterdam), and oh yes, Juan Manuel, el profesor. Juan Manuel is 23 years old and is probably the equivalent of an American who has just gotten out of school and is going to teach English somewhere before they figure out what they really want to do (only he is teaching Spanish). This is his first time teaching a group class, and I think we are exhausting him. After class yesterday, I was walking out with him and another student, and he asked the student if he had a smoke. He went on to explain that he had given up cigarettes for the day but after class, he had to have one. Oops! I think he must be muy frustrated.
But class is good. And I am the nerd that sits right next to the teacher and asks too many questions and pats myself on the back when I get something right. I am so determined to learn this! It really is unfortunate that we are forced to learn languages during college when we could not care less about actually learning them. When we choose to learn something because we really want to learn it, it´s much more effective. I went home after class last night and studied my vocabulary and did my homework and wrote down useful verbs and phrases. Dork!
But I will say that after one day of class and studying on my own, I am making some progress. Over steak last night, I told Rosa that the cemetary had lots of cats and the school was very beautiful. She is still speaking to me in English a lot because she gets that I don´t get it, but we are taking baby steps here. I will get it.
Okay, I am sitting in the school now, on a short break during class, trying furiously to finish this post! I was going to try to write about what I did this morning, but I will wait til tomorrow to get into that. Don´t want you to have too much to read, after all!
Sunday, January 13, 2008
Steak and Rosa
Hola! I have arrived. It´s unbelievable. I can´t even think straight right now.
My plane arrived around 12:30 PM(by the way, these keyboards are funny...i just tried to type in that colon, and it gave me ñ) today. The flight was very smooth and uneventful. It left about 45 minutes late - 11 PM EST last night - and thanks to my going away party on Friday night and last minute running around yesterday afternoon, I was exhausted and feel easily to sleep. I didn´t even have a glass of wine! The plane ride was 10 hours and 50 minutes, but it didn´t feel long at all. Very painless.
So I had this morning´s cup of coffee around 11 AM, looking out the plane window at sprawling Argentina below. I can´t explain how exciting it was. It´s so weird when you´ve imagined something over and over and over again, and then it actually happens. And it´s always nothing you thought it would be - it´s somehow better.
Anyway, my arrival was extremely easy, thanks to my school arranging a cab for me. I just had to go through customs (which was a breeze), grab my bag, and go up to the cab stand and give them my little waiver thingy. Then a strapping young Argentinian man came and carried my bag out to my taxi. I´m a queen:) Then the guy asked me for a tip, which was less charming, and I gave him a $5 US, which occured to me once I gave it to him that it was kind of an enormous tip, but oh well. Silly American that I am.
Then we were off! Lots of itty bitty cars here. I love it. It was about a 20 minute drive from the airport into Buenos Aires. I am certain I won´t be able to explain what things look like here, but I will try. It´s very flat, at least the area right around BA is. And green! But green in the way that you´d think trees in the desert would be - they look very out of place in the landscape or something.
All along the highway, people were picnicking! I cannot imagine anyone in America ever just pulling themselves off the road onto a grassy spot and setting up their grill next to the cars whizzing by. It was great. Tons of cars had just pulled over under the shade of a tree, and people had set up chairs and were just lounging and eating and drinking.
And Buenos Aires is huge and sprawling. But not huge like New York is huge. It doesn´t have a presence when you drive up on it - not like you come over the hill and, tada! There it is! The buildings are not nearly as tall, and they´re not metallic and shiny like in New York. They´re white and sandy and natural colors, and they honestly look pretty shabby from the highway. But then you exit the highway, and you´re down in the city streets, and it´s quite charming. Lots of trees make the streets very shady, and the neighborhoods are very quiet and quaint. I´m sure I haven´t even seen any of Buenos Aires yet, so more on that later.
We pulled up to Rosa´s apartment, and the cab driver went up and buzzed her (I have been very spoiled today - have not had to have any embarrassing ¨no habla espanol¨ experiences), and then she came down and embraced me! Ah, Rosa! She is 70 years old, has dyed auburn hair, is very short and squatty and is altogether exactly what I was hoping for in my Argentinian mama. She speaks a little English (much more than I speak Spanish), but she was very firm with me this afternoon, telling me I MUST learn. She then proceded to whip out the Buenos Aires map and explain all the neighborhoods for me, in Spanish. I did a lot of smiling and nodding (I´ve got ¨si¨down), but she´s excellent with gesturing and intonation, so even though I´m basically hearing babble, I can sort of get the gist of it.
She has another girl living with her right now, Nicoleta, who looks to be about 35 and who is from Cleveland, Ohio! She is only here for one more week. She´s a tango dancer and just came down here for a month to dance! How fun! Anyway, great to have an English speaker in the house, just in case! Then after she leaves, we´ll have another someone in the room.
The apartment is small, but precious, and Rosa has a fluffy white cat that eyes the living room very territorially from it´s perch on the bookshelf. I haven´t quite won the little kitty over yet, but I´m a gonna... I have a twin bed, a desk, a chair, and a closet. It´s perfect.
Then Henrique, who just this morning vacated my room, showed up, and he, Rosa and I went out to lunch. Henrique is a 21 year old student from Brazil, so he speaks Portuguese and Spanish and a little English, too. It was an interesting lunch, needless to say. Lots of Rosa and Henrique talking and me sitting there like a silly little Ellen. Oy, I feel stupid. But I am very confident that after one week of classes, I am at least going to be able to function. I just need the basics and then I´ll be okay. We had steak for lunch. Rosa ordered an appetizer of chorizo sausage - just one little sausage that we split into three portions, and then came steak. Just steak on the plate! It was tasty, but I´m not sure I can eat chorizo and steak for lunch every day. Or maybe I can!
Anyway, home from lunch now and just stopped off here to check in. I´m hopelessly addicted to the internet, so I am sure I will be in here daily. Also just picked up a phone card, so I can go back to Rosa´s and call mumsy and pops to let them know I am here! So now it is back to Rosa´s to nap and decompress and then tonight, Rosa is going to take me over to my school, so I will not get lost tomorrow morning! This is going to be great. I´m thrilled. Adios for now!
My plane arrived around 12:30 PM(by the way, these keyboards are funny...i just tried to type in that colon, and it gave me ñ) today. The flight was very smooth and uneventful. It left about 45 minutes late - 11 PM EST last night - and thanks to my going away party on Friday night and last minute running around yesterday afternoon, I was exhausted and feel easily to sleep. I didn´t even have a glass of wine! The plane ride was 10 hours and 50 minutes, but it didn´t feel long at all. Very painless.
So I had this morning´s cup of coffee around 11 AM, looking out the plane window at sprawling Argentina below. I can´t explain how exciting it was. It´s so weird when you´ve imagined something over and over and over again, and then it actually happens. And it´s always nothing you thought it would be - it´s somehow better.
Anyway, my arrival was extremely easy, thanks to my school arranging a cab for me. I just had to go through customs (which was a breeze), grab my bag, and go up to the cab stand and give them my little waiver thingy. Then a strapping young Argentinian man came and carried my bag out to my taxi. I´m a queen:) Then the guy asked me for a tip, which was less charming, and I gave him a $5 US, which occured to me once I gave it to him that it was kind of an enormous tip, but oh well. Silly American that I am.
Then we were off! Lots of itty bitty cars here. I love it. It was about a 20 minute drive from the airport into Buenos Aires. I am certain I won´t be able to explain what things look like here, but I will try. It´s very flat, at least the area right around BA is. And green! But green in the way that you´d think trees in the desert would be - they look very out of place in the landscape or something.
All along the highway, people were picnicking! I cannot imagine anyone in America ever just pulling themselves off the road onto a grassy spot and setting up their grill next to the cars whizzing by. It was great. Tons of cars had just pulled over under the shade of a tree, and people had set up chairs and were just lounging and eating and drinking.
And Buenos Aires is huge and sprawling. But not huge like New York is huge. It doesn´t have a presence when you drive up on it - not like you come over the hill and, tada! There it is! The buildings are not nearly as tall, and they´re not metallic and shiny like in New York. They´re white and sandy and natural colors, and they honestly look pretty shabby from the highway. But then you exit the highway, and you´re down in the city streets, and it´s quite charming. Lots of trees make the streets very shady, and the neighborhoods are very quiet and quaint. I´m sure I haven´t even seen any of Buenos Aires yet, so more on that later.
We pulled up to Rosa´s apartment, and the cab driver went up and buzzed her (I have been very spoiled today - have not had to have any embarrassing ¨no habla espanol¨ experiences), and then she came down and embraced me! Ah, Rosa! She is 70 years old, has dyed auburn hair, is very short and squatty and is altogether exactly what I was hoping for in my Argentinian mama. She speaks a little English (much more than I speak Spanish), but she was very firm with me this afternoon, telling me I MUST learn. She then proceded to whip out the Buenos Aires map and explain all the neighborhoods for me, in Spanish. I did a lot of smiling and nodding (I´ve got ¨si¨down), but she´s excellent with gesturing and intonation, so even though I´m basically hearing babble, I can sort of get the gist of it.
She has another girl living with her right now, Nicoleta, who looks to be about 35 and who is from Cleveland, Ohio! She is only here for one more week. She´s a tango dancer and just came down here for a month to dance! How fun! Anyway, great to have an English speaker in the house, just in case! Then after she leaves, we´ll have another someone in the room.
The apartment is small, but precious, and Rosa has a fluffy white cat that eyes the living room very territorially from it´s perch on the bookshelf. I haven´t quite won the little kitty over yet, but I´m a gonna... I have a twin bed, a desk, a chair, and a closet. It´s perfect.
Then Henrique, who just this morning vacated my room, showed up, and he, Rosa and I went out to lunch. Henrique is a 21 year old student from Brazil, so he speaks Portuguese and Spanish and a little English, too. It was an interesting lunch, needless to say. Lots of Rosa and Henrique talking and me sitting there like a silly little Ellen. Oy, I feel stupid. But I am very confident that after one week of classes, I am at least going to be able to function. I just need the basics and then I´ll be okay. We had steak for lunch. Rosa ordered an appetizer of chorizo sausage - just one little sausage that we split into three portions, and then came steak. Just steak on the plate! It was tasty, but I´m not sure I can eat chorizo and steak for lunch every day. Or maybe I can!
Anyway, home from lunch now and just stopped off here to check in. I´m hopelessly addicted to the internet, so I am sure I will be in here daily. Also just picked up a phone card, so I can go back to Rosa´s and call mumsy and pops to let them know I am here! So now it is back to Rosa´s to nap and decompress and then tonight, Rosa is going to take me over to my school, so I will not get lost tomorrow morning! This is going to be great. I´m thrilled. Adios for now!
Saturday, January 12, 2008
Well, well, well...
Departure day has arrived! It is 5:15 PM, I'm sitting in Marie's apartment, totally packed and ready to go! It's insane!
So, as my time ticks away here (I am scheduled to depart for the airport in one hour), I thought I should actually explain, as best I can, what I am getting ready to do.
Starting Monday, I will spend the next four weeks in Buenos Aires. Four hours a day I will be taking Spanish classes at a small language institute. The program has also arranged a homestay for me, which I am VERY excited about. All I know about my host is that she's a 70-year-old woman named Rosa who has a cat! Oh boy! I guess living with a 70-year-old may sound like a drag to some people, but I can't wait. And Rosa is also providing breakfast and dinner for me every day, so I will get a real taste of Argentinian home cookin'.
Most other questions you probably have right about now, I probably do not have an answer to, but here's a run down of the most frequently asked questions:
Do you speak Spanish? No! Not at all. That's why I am taking Spanish classes for four weeks. Seemed like a practical thing to do if I want to travel all over Spanish speaking countries. Plus, I really want to learn Spanish. Brilliant.
How many people are in your program? Don't know. Think it's very small. People can sign up one week at a time, so I assume there's frequent turnover of classmates.
Do you know anybody down there? Oddly enough, I do have two Nashville-connected acquaintances, Sam Nadler and Will Bruno. Whether or not I will actually see them at all is hard to say. We shall see.
What are you going to do after your program is over? Don't know, but I imagine I will go down one of two paths. 1) get a job in Buenos Aires and stay there for a while. 2) TRAVEL. Option 2 is really what I am hoping to do, but I'm not ruling out option 1. I may love Buenos Aires and want to hang out for a bit. I have packed myself in one (ONE!) large backpack, so if I want to travel, I am not going to be weighed down with a bunch of stuff. I've never been so possessionless in my life. It's crazy!
How long are you going to be gone? Indefinitely. I have about six months blocked off in my head, but I am not making any plans, so it could be less time, could be more.
Are you coming back to New York? I'm 99% sure that no is the answer to this one, but again, I'm not making any plans, so who knows. I have shipped all of my stuff home to Nashville, so it's definitely not sitting in storage here, waiting for me to come back. I want to live somewhere a little greener, I think.
Are you ready? Actually, YES. I am ready. Or at least I am as ready as one can be for an unplanned adventure.
Okay, so I am going to go talk to Marie face until time to go! And then she and Michelley are going to ride out to JFK with me. What good friends I have.
Next time I write, it will be from Buenos Aires. Crazy!
So, as my time ticks away here (I am scheduled to depart for the airport in one hour), I thought I should actually explain, as best I can, what I am getting ready to do.
Starting Monday, I will spend the next four weeks in Buenos Aires. Four hours a day I will be taking Spanish classes at a small language institute. The program has also arranged a homestay for me, which I am VERY excited about. All I know about my host is that she's a 70-year-old woman named Rosa who has a cat! Oh boy! I guess living with a 70-year-old may sound like a drag to some people, but I can't wait. And Rosa is also providing breakfast and dinner for me every day, so I will get a real taste of Argentinian home cookin'.
Most other questions you probably have right about now, I probably do not have an answer to, but here's a run down of the most frequently asked questions:
Do you speak Spanish? No! Not at all. That's why I am taking Spanish classes for four weeks. Seemed like a practical thing to do if I want to travel all over Spanish speaking countries. Plus, I really want to learn Spanish. Brilliant.
How many people are in your program? Don't know. Think it's very small. People can sign up one week at a time, so I assume there's frequent turnover of classmates.
Do you know anybody down there? Oddly enough, I do have two Nashville-connected acquaintances, Sam Nadler and Will Bruno. Whether or not I will actually see them at all is hard to say. We shall see.
What are you going to do after your program is over? Don't know, but I imagine I will go down one of two paths. 1) get a job in Buenos Aires and stay there for a while. 2) TRAVEL. Option 2 is really what I am hoping to do, but I'm not ruling out option 1. I may love Buenos Aires and want to hang out for a bit. I have packed myself in one (ONE!) large backpack, so if I want to travel, I am not going to be weighed down with a bunch of stuff. I've never been so possessionless in my life. It's crazy!
How long are you going to be gone? Indefinitely. I have about six months blocked off in my head, but I am not making any plans, so it could be less time, could be more.
Are you coming back to New York? I'm 99% sure that no is the answer to this one, but again, I'm not making any plans, so who knows. I have shipped all of my stuff home to Nashville, so it's definitely not sitting in storage here, waiting for me to come back. I want to live somewhere a little greener, I think.
Are you ready? Actually, YES. I am ready. Or at least I am as ready as one can be for an unplanned adventure.
Okay, so I am going to go talk to Marie face until time to go! And then she and Michelley are going to ride out to JFK with me. What good friends I have.
Next time I write, it will be from Buenos Aires. Crazy!
Tuesday, January 8, 2008
Four Days! and I Heart NY
I witnessed a classic New York moment last weekend while waiting for the 4 train to take me from Brooklyn to the East Village. I was standing on the platform, headphones on, mind all over the place, when another train pulled in across the tracks. Through the window of the closed train door, I spotted a haggard, crusty, crazed looking older man. I couldn't have really missed him - he was beating his hands up against the the glass, head cocked awkwardly toward the ceiling, mouth howling away. That sight entertained me for a few seconds; then my eyes scanned the other passengers in the car. Most were plugged into a book or an ipod, determined not to let the crazy crazy distract them. But then of course (of course!) there was the mustached white 50 something guy, who stared at the howling, beating presence with the kind of distaste and confusion reserved for mustached white 50 something guys. It was great.
It was a brief observation, but it made me happy for the duration of my own train ride, and has stuck with me this week. It wasn't exactly a profound moment of any kind, but it was the kind of moment that encompasses what I adore about this city. People walk down the street like people in smaller cities drive around in their cars, but it's all public. And nobody that's lived here long enough to get comfortable has a problem with that. Fights, tears, conversations with mothers about inappropriate subjects - it's all right there for anyone to see and hear. It's so real. The mustached guy's reaction to the crazy. So genuine and untouched.
I am in love with my city this week. Madly in love. It is an imperfect perfection of a place. Its every flaw delights me.
This Saturday, at 10:10 PM, I will be looking at my city from the window of the plane that is taking me to Buenos Aires, another city stuffed with people. They will just be speaking the Spanish, and I'll have to guess (at least for the first week, four weeks?) what they are saying. If I can make it in New York...right?
***
Are you SO excited?! That is the question I am getting from everyone this week, and I have to say, of all the emotions I am feeling right now, excited is not in the top five. I feel like a much calmer, cooler, and collected version of my 18 year old self being dropped off at Indiana. I was mortified of the complete unknown then, as I am now. There are moments when the reality of what I am doing in four days hits me, and my stomach plumets, and I think, WHAT AM I DOING?? But my older self knows that I'll be fine, and that when my plane lands, excited is going to have moved to the top of the emotions list.
My delightful boss tells me that I'm going to come crawling back, and that I'm making the worst decision of my life. But he says it with his characteristic smirk on his face, so I know he knows what I know - it's going to be amazing.
In the meantime, I have four days! Two days more of work (wheeeeee!) and two days of play (wheeeeeee!). I am making lists in my sleep, frantically trying to finish a knitting project for a certain lovely couple, going crazy with last-minute projects at work, reading the history of Argentina (did you know the name Argentina comes from the Latin word for silver?), and having going away parties at all other times. Good thing I don't have to worry about learning Spanish!
It was a brief observation, but it made me happy for the duration of my own train ride, and has stuck with me this week. It wasn't exactly a profound moment of any kind, but it was the kind of moment that encompasses what I adore about this city. People walk down the street like people in smaller cities drive around in their cars, but it's all public. And nobody that's lived here long enough to get comfortable has a problem with that. Fights, tears, conversations with mothers about inappropriate subjects - it's all right there for anyone to see and hear. It's so real. The mustached guy's reaction to the crazy. So genuine and untouched.
I am in love with my city this week. Madly in love. It is an imperfect perfection of a place. Its every flaw delights me.
This Saturday, at 10:10 PM, I will be looking at my city from the window of the plane that is taking me to Buenos Aires, another city stuffed with people. They will just be speaking the Spanish, and I'll have to guess (at least for the first week, four weeks?) what they are saying. If I can make it in New York...right?
***
Are you SO excited?! That is the question I am getting from everyone this week, and I have to say, of all the emotions I am feeling right now, excited is not in the top five. I feel like a much calmer, cooler, and collected version of my 18 year old self being dropped off at Indiana. I was mortified of the complete unknown then, as I am now. There are moments when the reality of what I am doing in four days hits me, and my stomach plumets, and I think, WHAT AM I DOING?? But my older self knows that I'll be fine, and that when my plane lands, excited is going to have moved to the top of the emotions list.
My delightful boss tells me that I'm going to come crawling back, and that I'm making the worst decision of my life. But he says it with his characteristic smirk on his face, so I know he knows what I know - it's going to be amazing.
In the meantime, I have four days! Two days more of work (wheeeeee!) and two days of play (wheeeeeee!). I am making lists in my sleep, frantically trying to finish a knitting project for a certain lovely couple, going crazy with last-minute projects at work, reading the history of Argentina (did you know the name Argentina comes from the Latin word for silver?), and having going away parties at all other times. Good thing I don't have to worry about learning Spanish!
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