Hola! Hope this finds you all well on this lovely Tuesday evening (well, it is lovely here, at least).
I am sitting in the internet cafe, and there´s a live recording of "It Must´ve Been Love¨playing. So funny. The American music they choose to listen to here. They´re about 20 years behind. Although, I did notice in the music store today that Amy Winehouse, Radiohead, and James Blunt were all on their best-seller list. So they must be somewhat plugged in.
Actually, the level of plugged-in-ness down here (plugged-in-ness to American culture, that is) is something I think about a lot. We take so many things for granted, as Americans. So many things that we can´t even think of because that´s how terribly we take them for granted! Having a culture of cinema and music in your own language, for example. You walk into a music/video store in Argentina, and the vast majority of media they´re selling is originally in English, sung by Americans, acted by Americans (obviously there are exceptions - they´re not ALL Americans).
I remember my first week here, in Buenos Aires, seeing the Simpsons on TV, hearing crap American music everywhere, seeing posters for American movies, and thinking, "How boring. Can´t they get some stuff of their own?"
It also occurred to me how strange that must be for the Argentinian. For the teenagers who are finding themselves in the sounds and voices of American musicians. Wouldn´t it be odd, growing up, living your life, and constantly being assaulted by media that wasn´t in your native language?
I brought this very subject up to my friend Juan Manuel, who is actually studying cinema, and he said it´s a subject frequently discussed in his classes. The lack of identity in Argentinian movies, music, etc. I am not saying that Argentinians don´t have their own culture or that they are trying to be like us - not at all. Just simply that the entertainment industry, in particular, does not have a very strong voice here. It get drowned out by that fat American lady.
Anyway, next time you turn on the TV and watch that re-run of Friends or Sex in the City or whatever, just think about it. What if everything on were originally produced in Chinese? How would your outlook on the world be different?
Could I please sound more like a high school English teacher? Aack. 250 words on that topic, please. Typed. Double-spaced.
All´s well here. I had a very quiet weekend. We had an asado (a bbq) on Saturday night to say farewell to Denise, another student who has been living with us (she´s from Suiza), and it was great fun. I looked out my window an hour or two before dinner and found Manuel chopping wood. That´s what I said. Chopping wood. For the grille. If you´ve looked at the most recent picures, you can sort of see what the grille looks like - more or less like the ones we use - but he used a wood-burning fire to cook the meat instead of a coal-burning one. And I could taste the difference! It was amazing. Yum.
We ate out in the backyard as the sun was going down. So nice. I just love this family. And of course, Ana Maria had created this unbelievable torta, cake, for dessert.
I spent a great deal of the weekend on the computer, debating my next move, and I did manage to make some plans. I now have a bus ticket to El Chalten, which is the jumping off point for Torres del Paine. I also have reserved 4 nights in a hostel there, but that is where the plans end. I decided that I wanted to have a few more days in Bariloche after I get this cast off to run around here and do some of the things I haven´t been able to do, so I am not leaving until the 7th, which is next Friday.
So hopefully, next week will be spent doing lots of hiking and camping and whatnot. I will let you know.
And, the sun´s coming out tomorrow, my friends! I am heading back to the ole hospital for the removal of my cast. I am terrified of that blade they are going to use, but I guess if I lose my arm, I will already have learned to brush my teeth with my left hand.
Just kidding...
Happy last week in February! You can make it!! Love you all.
Tuesday, February 26, 2008
Bariloche
folks, i´ve updated the pictures again - http://picasaweb.google.com/ellen.bucy. will write more later this evening. class, ahora. love love.
Saturday, February 23, 2008
Coral Fingernails and Buck Teeth
Lo siento, lo siento. The internet here has been down for two days, so the writing has been suspended. Additionally, there´s not too much to report at the moment. Life is pretty tranquila here.
I finished up 2B yesterday with a 96 on my test. I had to take the test separately from the rest of the class so I could have a helper to write for me. Taking a test that way is quite difficult, I have to say. There was lots of short answer stuff on the test - "What are your plans for this year? What do you think about life on other planets? Do you think beauty pagents help or hurt the image of women? Define, in your own words, marriage. Pollution. Abortion. Etc." Entonces, it was very dificil to formulate these things out loud and not be able to revise. Plus, though I know the profesor helping me also thought the questions were silly and stupid, I still felt un poco embarrassed to have to talk about life on other planets and pollution in my decent, but still very basic, Spanish. "Contaminacion es cuando un lugar es muy sucio y hay basura en las calles y la gente no puede beber la agua." Que?
I realize that I haven´t talked about my progress with the language learning lately. (Language learning lately!) The learning is going well, for the most part. The past two weeks I have had Samanta for my teacher, and I would give her a so-so rating. Although I know my Spanish has improved under her direction, I don´t feel like I have made as much progress as in previous weeks. She speaks very quickly (which is getting easier to deal with, thank goodness), and she rarely writes anything on the board, which rubs me in a not so nice way. I am, I have learned, a very visual learner. I need to see things spelled out in front of me, need to write them at least once myself, for them to stick. Entonces, whenever Samanta introduced a new word, I would say, "que?" Then she´d repeat the word, and I´d say "que?" again. Then she´d repeat it again, and I´d say "como letras? (how do you spell it?)" And then, instead of just writing the stupid word on the board, she´d spell it out loud, which is really hard because the letters are pronounced differently. Then she´d say, "Entendes? You understand?" And I´d say, "esta bien".
(My friend Elian says "esta bien" is my favorite phrase in class - I say it every time I don´t understand something but want Samanta to stop talking to me. Esta bien. It´s fine. Forget it. Never mind. I love being passive aggressive.)
Samanta is a 25 year old gal, with a massive load of brown hair that hangs down to her butt and a mouth full of buck teeth. She has long pointy fingernails that she painted coral this week, and wears lime green espadrilles every day. I am only trying to paint a picture for you.
There were six of us this class, four girls, and two, admittedly, very attractive guys from Suiza. To me, and to the rest of the girls in class, the handsome-ness of these guys faded the second they opened their mouths, but Samanta was obsessed. Totally smitten. And it was awfully obnoxious to have to watch her embarrassing flirtations with them. Every time one of them would say anything, she´d open up that big mouth and just laugh, laugh, laugh. Like a horse. Oh, I am being mean now. But that´s what it´s like, and I need to give you an accurate description of things so you can imagine them...accurately.
Anyway, watching someone do this makes me uncomfortable and embarrassed, on top of distracting me from my studies. That uncontrollable laughter. We have all been there, I think. So embarrassing! I just had to cover my eyes with my working hand. Por favor!
Okay, I have gotten off track now. I was supposed to be discussing my Spanish progress.
I am progressing. And I am spending most of my time with a group of folks from Suiza, so we frequently have to speak in Spanish to avoid the Swiss-German that I don´t know, and the English that a few of them don´t know. This is the best practice, to me. Just talking. If you say "Fui" (I went) enough, it sticks, and the next time you want to tell someone where you went, you don´t have to take the time to search for the correct conjugation and whatnot. It just comes out.
I find myself constantly trying to translate the thoughts in my head, as I am walking down the street, or as I am typing. Makes for a very busy mind!
I am taking one more week of classes, and though I am ready for a break from them, I am also terrified of losing anything I have learned. And now that I have officially mastered (or almost mastered) the basics, I just want to know more and more. Gimme, gimme.
Language is a really interesting concept. I think about it a lot here, obviously. How did all of these different languages start? How is it possible that over time, they just evolved, from basic utterances to these incredibly complex systems? And how is it possible that languages are so different from each other? I think I actually learned the answers to these questions in some random class at IU, but I have lost that information somewhere along the way. I will have to google it.
Life outside of the language learning is mostly good. The cast is annoying me. I am using all (ALL) of my inner strength to keep the negativity out, but sometimes, it creeps in. It doesn´t really creep, actually. It slams. It´s sudden. I feel fine, and then SLAM! A huge wave of frustration. Aside from not being able to, you know, write, or cut my own meat, or apply deoderant (how on earth do you spell that word?) to my left armpit, I just feel really off at all times. Off balance. I can´t do anything with my hair, so it just hangs until I can get someone to make a pony for me. The shower is a chore, so I skip it sometimes. I just feel like a bedraggled mess at all times. Just not myself. Okay, that´s all the complaining I am allowing myself today.
I really like the people here. In general, I find the students and the staff at this school much more appealing than the students and staff at the school in BsAs. Maybe it´s just the kind of person that chooses to go to the mountains versus the person that chooses the city. I don´t know. At any rate, I have great friends here.
Mi amigos Elian and Phillipe had a fiesta at their casa anoche to say farewell to a couple of other amigos who are departing this weekend. Elian is my newest best friend here. I absolutely adore her. She is from Suiza, and she´s traveling with her novio Phillippe. Anyway, the party was lots of fun, but I am feeling extra off today. That vino is still in my system, I think. Maybe that´s why this entry has been so craaaazy.
Okay. Ahora, necisito a hacer algunas planes por mi futuro. Where will I go on Saturday? Will I decide to head south to Patagonia or will I decide that Patagonia is not something I should take on solo? Will I head back to BsAs to catch up with folks for a few days, and then start slolwy making my way around Argentina (Iguazu, Rosario, Cordoba, Mendoza, and then onto Santiago)? I need to figure this out. I change my mind every day. Yesterday I had decided to head to Patagonia, and then I woke up this morning and thought, No, better not. I think that´s the hangover talking...
Hope everyone´s weekends are off to a good start. Especially my Suzers, who said she just couldn´t get her weekend going without a new post. This one´s for you, chica!
I finished up 2B yesterday with a 96 on my test. I had to take the test separately from the rest of the class so I could have a helper to write for me. Taking a test that way is quite difficult, I have to say. There was lots of short answer stuff on the test - "What are your plans for this year? What do you think about life on other planets? Do you think beauty pagents help or hurt the image of women? Define, in your own words, marriage. Pollution. Abortion. Etc." Entonces, it was very dificil to formulate these things out loud and not be able to revise. Plus, though I know the profesor helping me also thought the questions were silly and stupid, I still felt un poco embarrassed to have to talk about life on other planets and pollution in my decent, but still very basic, Spanish. "Contaminacion es cuando un lugar es muy sucio y hay basura en las calles y la gente no puede beber la agua." Que?
I realize that I haven´t talked about my progress with the language learning lately. (Language learning lately!) The learning is going well, for the most part. The past two weeks I have had Samanta for my teacher, and I would give her a so-so rating. Although I know my Spanish has improved under her direction, I don´t feel like I have made as much progress as in previous weeks. She speaks very quickly (which is getting easier to deal with, thank goodness), and she rarely writes anything on the board, which rubs me in a not so nice way. I am, I have learned, a very visual learner. I need to see things spelled out in front of me, need to write them at least once myself, for them to stick. Entonces, whenever Samanta introduced a new word, I would say, "que?" Then she´d repeat the word, and I´d say "que?" again. Then she´d repeat it again, and I´d say "como letras? (how do you spell it?)" And then, instead of just writing the stupid word on the board, she´d spell it out loud, which is really hard because the letters are pronounced differently. Then she´d say, "Entendes? You understand?" And I´d say, "esta bien".
(My friend Elian says "esta bien" is my favorite phrase in class - I say it every time I don´t understand something but want Samanta to stop talking to me. Esta bien. It´s fine. Forget it. Never mind. I love being passive aggressive.)
Samanta is a 25 year old gal, with a massive load of brown hair that hangs down to her butt and a mouth full of buck teeth. She has long pointy fingernails that she painted coral this week, and wears lime green espadrilles every day. I am only trying to paint a picture for you.
There were six of us this class, four girls, and two, admittedly, very attractive guys from Suiza. To me, and to the rest of the girls in class, the handsome-ness of these guys faded the second they opened their mouths, but Samanta was obsessed. Totally smitten. And it was awfully obnoxious to have to watch her embarrassing flirtations with them. Every time one of them would say anything, she´d open up that big mouth and just laugh, laugh, laugh. Like a horse. Oh, I am being mean now. But that´s what it´s like, and I need to give you an accurate description of things so you can imagine them...accurately.
Anyway, watching someone do this makes me uncomfortable and embarrassed, on top of distracting me from my studies. That uncontrollable laughter. We have all been there, I think. So embarrassing! I just had to cover my eyes with my working hand. Por favor!
Okay, I have gotten off track now. I was supposed to be discussing my Spanish progress.
I am progressing. And I am spending most of my time with a group of folks from Suiza, so we frequently have to speak in Spanish to avoid the Swiss-German that I don´t know, and the English that a few of them don´t know. This is the best practice, to me. Just talking. If you say "Fui" (I went) enough, it sticks, and the next time you want to tell someone where you went, you don´t have to take the time to search for the correct conjugation and whatnot. It just comes out.
I find myself constantly trying to translate the thoughts in my head, as I am walking down the street, or as I am typing. Makes for a very busy mind!
I am taking one more week of classes, and though I am ready for a break from them, I am also terrified of losing anything I have learned. And now that I have officially mastered (or almost mastered) the basics, I just want to know more and more. Gimme, gimme.
Language is a really interesting concept. I think about it a lot here, obviously. How did all of these different languages start? How is it possible that over time, they just evolved, from basic utterances to these incredibly complex systems? And how is it possible that languages are so different from each other? I think I actually learned the answers to these questions in some random class at IU, but I have lost that information somewhere along the way. I will have to google it.
Life outside of the language learning is mostly good. The cast is annoying me. I am using all (ALL) of my inner strength to keep the negativity out, but sometimes, it creeps in. It doesn´t really creep, actually. It slams. It´s sudden. I feel fine, and then SLAM! A huge wave of frustration. Aside from not being able to, you know, write, or cut my own meat, or apply deoderant (how on earth do you spell that word?) to my left armpit, I just feel really off at all times. Off balance. I can´t do anything with my hair, so it just hangs until I can get someone to make a pony for me. The shower is a chore, so I skip it sometimes. I just feel like a bedraggled mess at all times. Just not myself. Okay, that´s all the complaining I am allowing myself today.
I really like the people here. In general, I find the students and the staff at this school much more appealing than the students and staff at the school in BsAs. Maybe it´s just the kind of person that chooses to go to the mountains versus the person that chooses the city. I don´t know. At any rate, I have great friends here.
Mi amigos Elian and Phillipe had a fiesta at their casa anoche to say farewell to a couple of other amigos who are departing this weekend. Elian is my newest best friend here. I absolutely adore her. She is from Suiza, and she´s traveling with her novio Phillippe. Anyway, the party was lots of fun, but I am feeling extra off today. That vino is still in my system, I think. Maybe that´s why this entry has been so craaaazy.
Okay. Ahora, necisito a hacer algunas planes por mi futuro. Where will I go on Saturday? Will I decide to head south to Patagonia or will I decide that Patagonia is not something I should take on solo? Will I head back to BsAs to catch up with folks for a few days, and then start slolwy making my way around Argentina (Iguazu, Rosario, Cordoba, Mendoza, and then onto Santiago)? I need to figure this out. I change my mind every day. Yesterday I had decided to head to Patagonia, and then I woke up this morning and thought, No, better not. I think that´s the hangover talking...
Hope everyone´s weekends are off to a good start. Especially my Suzers, who said she just couldn´t get her weekend going without a new post. This one´s for you, chica!
Monday, February 18, 2008
Ana Maria
Marie, I am so glad you finally got around to reading this thing. Welcome, dear. I hear you´ve been sucked back into the dark side...por favor!?
I would like to dedicate this post to the woman who left a gigantic piece of chocolate raspberry cake on my breakfast plate this morning - mi nuevo madre, Ana Maria. I didn´t think Rosa could be replaced or outdone, but cake on the breakfast plate will endear me to you forever.
I feel like I am living with the Cleavers!
Ana Maria is the quintessential housewife. Her entire life is dedicated to her home and her church and her husband and her children. And I like it. There is something so wholesome about this woman - goodness just oozes out of her. I sit down to dinner and before I can think, she´s bounced out of her seat and is hovering over me, cutting my meat for me, muttering nonsensical words and songs under her breath.
Every afternoon when I return home from school, my bed has been made for me, and it´s actually not for lack of me doing it myself. I have pulled the covers up and smoothed and tidied, but every day, she comes in behind me and tucks everything in tightly, opens the curtains, straightens my things. To me, it´s totally unnecessary. To her, it´s her job.
The preparation of the cena, the dinner, is a production every night. Dinner is usually not served until 9 or 9:30, but by 7, you will find Ana Maria in that kitchen, swinging around in her sundress and flip-flops, humming to herself, talking to herself, giggling, chopping.
Home-made empanadas, lamb, noodles with roquefort sauce, roast chicken, salads with avocado and tomato, cakes with fresh cream.
Rosa prepared food. Ana Maria COOKS.
Often, Manuel, the husband, the father, gets involved, too. He´ll labor over the onions while Ana Maria knits and watches TV; he´ll wander in every few minutes to check on the chicken; he´ll sit down and help Ana Maria seal up the empanadas (I have my own method, he says, with a grin).
And then Ari, the daughter, appears to help out. Prepare the salad, set the table, fill the pitchers with juice and water.
Dinner time is a climactic moment. It´s as if the whole day has been spent just for this time of being together and enjoying food and company. The hour before dinner, in particular, is full of clinging clanging footsteps songs smells tastes - I get positively anxious observing it. The day´s not done til the dessert´s been served and the dishes have been washed. Then, we can start all over again. It´s a nice daily rhythm. I lived like this growing up and didn´t realize how much I missed it.
We sit. And we savor. And we chat (those of us who are in the mood to speak Espanish, that is).
Manuel is always the center of dinner conversation. He is every bit the ying to his wife´s yang. There´s something a bit militaristic about him, but I think it´s only in the way he looks - very clean cut and serious. He´s clearly very intelligent (he´s some sort of engineer - don´t ask me), and it comes across in the telling of his stories - not a detail to be left out! And he does love to tell stories. He´s the talker.
He loves his stories more than anyone else, of course, which kills me. He gets this little smirky grin on his face when he´s about to say something funny, and then looks around at us to make sure we´re all laughing - did you get it??
Every now and then, when dessert time rolls around, Ana Maria goes to the counter, throws some things into a big bowl, comes back to the dinner table with the bowl and her hand-mixer, sits, smiles, and starts whipping up that fresh cream. Just a minute! she sings. It´s precious. I want to be her.
When dinner´s over, everyone lingers while dishes are done, tea is made, and then slowly everyone retires to the living room or their bedroom.
Manuel has recently somehow downloaded the new epidsodes of Lost from the internet (because they are currently airing last season now), so the past two nights have been spent in front of the TV with the fam, Ana Maria absentmindedly gurgling questions to her husband, her husband laying it all out for her. The asker and the explainer.
I´m so slowed down here. The life is simple. If you spend three hours preparing and eating your dinner, well then, that´s how you spent three hours of your day. Not wasted, spent. This is what I asked for when I made all those decisions a few months back. Simplicity. Slow me down. Put on the brakes (interesting that I say that right after talking about how bad it is to ride the brakes...hmmm...).
Today, for example, I had class til 1 PM, went to a leisurely lunch, took a siesta, then retired to the park for several hours of hanging out with friends, half-heartedly studying, laying in the grass, having a beer.
I know I can´t do this forever, but ahora, es mi vida.
Onto dinner now. With friends tonight. Not with the Cleavers. And, oh yes, I managed to turn down that cake this morning. Where do I get such self control??
I would like to dedicate this post to the woman who left a gigantic piece of chocolate raspberry cake on my breakfast plate this morning - mi nuevo madre, Ana Maria. I didn´t think Rosa could be replaced or outdone, but cake on the breakfast plate will endear me to you forever.
I feel like I am living with the Cleavers!
Ana Maria is the quintessential housewife. Her entire life is dedicated to her home and her church and her husband and her children. And I like it. There is something so wholesome about this woman - goodness just oozes out of her. I sit down to dinner and before I can think, she´s bounced out of her seat and is hovering over me, cutting my meat for me, muttering nonsensical words and songs under her breath.
Every afternoon when I return home from school, my bed has been made for me, and it´s actually not for lack of me doing it myself. I have pulled the covers up and smoothed and tidied, but every day, she comes in behind me and tucks everything in tightly, opens the curtains, straightens my things. To me, it´s totally unnecessary. To her, it´s her job.
The preparation of the cena, the dinner, is a production every night. Dinner is usually not served until 9 or 9:30, but by 7, you will find Ana Maria in that kitchen, swinging around in her sundress and flip-flops, humming to herself, talking to herself, giggling, chopping.
Home-made empanadas, lamb, noodles with roquefort sauce, roast chicken, salads with avocado and tomato, cakes with fresh cream.
Rosa prepared food. Ana Maria COOKS.
Often, Manuel, the husband, the father, gets involved, too. He´ll labor over the onions while Ana Maria knits and watches TV; he´ll wander in every few minutes to check on the chicken; he´ll sit down and help Ana Maria seal up the empanadas (I have my own method, he says, with a grin).
And then Ari, the daughter, appears to help out. Prepare the salad, set the table, fill the pitchers with juice and water.
Dinner time is a climactic moment. It´s as if the whole day has been spent just for this time of being together and enjoying food and company. The hour before dinner, in particular, is full of clinging clanging footsteps songs smells tastes - I get positively anxious observing it. The day´s not done til the dessert´s been served and the dishes have been washed. Then, we can start all over again. It´s a nice daily rhythm. I lived like this growing up and didn´t realize how much I missed it.
We sit. And we savor. And we chat (those of us who are in the mood to speak Espanish, that is).
Manuel is always the center of dinner conversation. He is every bit the ying to his wife´s yang. There´s something a bit militaristic about him, but I think it´s only in the way he looks - very clean cut and serious. He´s clearly very intelligent (he´s some sort of engineer - don´t ask me), and it comes across in the telling of his stories - not a detail to be left out! And he does love to tell stories. He´s the talker.
He loves his stories more than anyone else, of course, which kills me. He gets this little smirky grin on his face when he´s about to say something funny, and then looks around at us to make sure we´re all laughing - did you get it??
Every now and then, when dessert time rolls around, Ana Maria goes to the counter, throws some things into a big bowl, comes back to the dinner table with the bowl and her hand-mixer, sits, smiles, and starts whipping up that fresh cream. Just a minute! she sings. It´s precious. I want to be her.
When dinner´s over, everyone lingers while dishes are done, tea is made, and then slowly everyone retires to the living room or their bedroom.
Manuel has recently somehow downloaded the new epidsodes of Lost from the internet (because they are currently airing last season now), so the past two nights have been spent in front of the TV with the fam, Ana Maria absentmindedly gurgling questions to her husband, her husband laying it all out for her. The asker and the explainer.
I´m so slowed down here. The life is simple. If you spend three hours preparing and eating your dinner, well then, that´s how you spent three hours of your day. Not wasted, spent. This is what I asked for when I made all those decisions a few months back. Simplicity. Slow me down. Put on the brakes (interesting that I say that right after talking about how bad it is to ride the brakes...hmmm...).
Today, for example, I had class til 1 PM, went to a leisurely lunch, took a siesta, then retired to the park for several hours of hanging out with friends, half-heartedly studying, laying in the grass, having a beer.
I know I can´t do this forever, but ahora, es mi vida.
Onto dinner now. With friends tonight. Not with the Cleavers. And, oh yes, I managed to turn down that cake this morning. Where do I get such self control??
Saturday, February 16, 2008
Hunt and Peck
Okay, I am going to give this typing business another shot. If I hold my right arm above the keyboard, I can sort of use the fingers on my right hand. We will see how long I can hold it up - this cast is heavy!
It´s Saturday afternoon, a beautiful day, and my friends have gone off on a two day hike up to a refugio and back, and I am stranded here. We decided that it probably was not the best idea for me and my cement arm to attempt it. I had a brief meltdown yesterday, when I realized I am going to be excluded from almost all activities for the next two weeks, but I felt much better once I got a little frustration out of my system. And, as I told my pops yesterday, God forbid I be stranded in a beautiful resort town with nothing to do for two weeks. If I can find a problem with that, I will never be able to make myself happy doing anything!
So I went out this morning and bought a new book ($20 US for a paperback - a price I am willing to pay), and if all I do this weekend is sit by the lake and read, it will be a weekend well spent.
But how did I get here?
Well, my week was off to a great start. Monday after classes, we had a brief city tour, followed by beers and peanuts at a local brewery. Bariloche is a town of about 100,000 residents, and it has grown quickly! The town has really only been here for about 100 years. It´s situated between the very dry "step" area to the east, and the wet mountains of Chile to the west, so this makes for some interesting weather phenomena, apparently. I am told that it snowed here about a month ago (very odd because it´s the middle of summer here), and that the weather can change drastically overnight. And indeed, the extremes in a day here are amazing. The first few days, it felt like it was about 85 degrees in the middle of the day, but about 50 after the sun went down. And, the sun doesn´t go down here til 10:30 pm!! How amazing is that? For nine months of the year, Bariloche is one hour behind Buenos Aires, but for three months in the summer (now), they set the clock forward an hour to save electricity. It is a bit disorienting to eat dinner at 9:30 pm, while the sun is still out, and then have time to go for a walk after dinner before sunset. A bit disorienting, but I like it!
Tuesday, we hiked up Cerro Campanario - only about a 30 minute climb, but straight up, and I was wearing my Chacos because we had been told we were just going to ride up the ski lift to the top. But, of course, when the option to walk presented itself, I took it. The paths to the top were covered with slippy slidy dirt, so by the time we got to the top, my feet were brown brown brown. The view from the top was incredible - hopefully that was obvious from the pictures. You can see seven lakes from up there, as well as the mountains bordering Chile, and all of Bariloche. Just beautiful.
(As a side-note, I have been thinking about the word beautiful, and how it´s the only word to really describe things here, but it doesn´t feel strong enough because it´s so overused. All words for beauty feel trite and obnoxious. Breathtaking seems dramatic. Gorgeous seems silly. Simply beautiful. The most perfect kind of beauty - totally natural.)
The way back down the mountain was a mess for me. I might as well have laid down on my stomach and rolled down because that´s about what I looked like when I reached the bottom. I had a little tumble when I started running down the hill and couldn´t put on the breaks with my little Chacos. A little scrape on my left ankle, but otherwise, just a bit dirty. That was not to be the last time I would walk the hill up to my house covered with dirt and getting funny looks from passers-by. Oh, no.
Wednesday afternoon was mountain biking, and I was really excited. We were going to ride part of Circuito Chico, a 60 km loop through some of the most beautiful areas around Bariloche. I´d never been mountain biking before, and I think my most recent previous experience on a bike was on a beach cruiser in Sanibel about three years ago. So I am not sure why I was so confident that I could go mountain biking (in the mountains) without having an accident.
We were on the bikes for about four hours, and the first 3.5 hours were amazing. It was a perfect day - blue skies, green trees, lakes, mountains, breezes. We hadn´t been given any kind of lesson on how the bikes worked - I suppose the folks at the rental place assumed we weren´t inexperienced ninnies - so it took me about an hour to sort out the gears and whatnot.
With the exception of an after dinner walk every now and then, I have not done any intentional exercise since I left the States. It was, therefore, exhilarating to get on that bike and to feel my muscles working again. The first few hills were challenging, to say the least, but it´s the kind of challenging I like - physical and mental. I love getting my head into a little meditation place during exercise - when things start to physically get hard, I focus on my breathing and count, in two, out two, in two, out two. Eyes glaze over, mind empties, and before you know it, you´ve pushed yourself through, forgotten about the "I can´t". That, for me, is the reward of exercise. The mental challenge - telling myself I can - is always greater than the physical.
And so it was on this little bicycle. I´d come around a corner, and see a long stretch of road ahead, a steep climb, and I´d think to myself, you´ve got to be kidding me... But then, my mind would click over to challenge mode - "I will not let this hill get the best of me!" - and I´d just push push push, breathe breathe breathe.
The downhills were a different sort of challenge. The others in the group (there were 7 of us, I think), would go flying on ahead, and I´d sort of cruise on down, taking my sweet time, riding my brakes, clinging to any bit of control I had over that bike. I was formulating this little metaphor in my head while I was riding - something about riding the brakes. I was thinking that on the bike, as in life, it´s so terrifying to let go of the brakes and just let yourself go, let yourself be carried on down the road. It feels much better mentally to have that hand on the break, slowing yourself, proceeding with caution, but you are losing out on quite a ride that way.
After an hour or two, I loosened my grip, and let myself fly. It´s an incredible feeling to reach the top of a hill that you were certain you couldn´t climb, and then just let yourself go, let yourself savor that downhill reward.
I loved every minute of it. I sang songs to myself, thought to myself, and always, always marveled at the beauty of my surroundings.
In the last 20-30 minutes of the trip, we took some sort of short cut down a long dirt road - I think we were trying to avoid a heavily trafficked road. The road was relatively flat, maybe a slight downward slant, but I was the last in our line of bikers, and I could not see anything on the ground below me because of the clouds of dirt the wheels had stirred up. I was thinking about the dirt, thinking about these brown clouds, wondering if this was considered dirt bike riding, when all of a sudden, I was on the ground. I really don´t know what happened. One second on, the next off.
I fell off on the right side of my bike, and my right arm went down first, absorbing my whole body weight. Elisabeth was maybe 50 feet ahead of me, and she heard me yelp as I went down, so she came back to check on me, and then went ahead to get Matias, the "activities coordinator". I felt okay - no blood, nothing dramatic. More just shocked and startled than anything. But that arm was not feeling quite right. Matias and Elisabeth and Eric arrived, we took a few deep breaths, Matias insisted on some photos, and then I was back on the bike.
The arm was feeling worse and worse as I pedaled onto the rental shop. The pressure I was having to put on it to steady myself on the bike was becoming more and more painful, but I did make it (though not without fighting a lot of tears).
We had a thirty minute bus ride back to Bariloche, and by the time we got off, I was certain I needed to get the arm checked out. So translator Matias walked me up to Bariloche´s private hospital, and within just a few minutes, I was in front of a doctor, and shuffled off to the x-ray room.
It was certainly a few (or many) steps down from a hospital in the States, but it was a hospital, and the nurses were smiling patiently and speaking soothingly, though I couldn´t understand what they were saying. Matias had to wash my arm off because I guess that´s somehow not the responsibility of the hospital staff, so that was pretty amusing - he´s this 26 year old laughing hyena of a person who clearly has this job because he´s mr. social, mr. party man. I was in and out in 45 minutes, and it only set me back about $80 US (maybe that´s why they didn´t wash my arm for me).
Matias then walked me up the hill to my house and presented me to my appropriately concerned padres, who were just finishing up dinner. So dramatic, so silly, so pathetic.
Everything is going to be fine. This cast seems like a bit of overkill to me, but what do I know? My arm does feel much better in the cast, though. And I am learning to brush my teeth with my left hand, wash just my left hand, take off my clothes, put on my clothes, and all of those good things. I felt a bit lost that first night, because all I wanted to do was take a shower, but I didn´t have my mommy or a best friend to help me and laugh at me. Ana Maria, mi "madre" here, offered to help me, but you know, it´s just not the same, and there´s that pride thing, too. So I settled for a bath, and showed up at school the next morning still feeling revolting, but at least I showed up, right?
What an adventure.
I have decided to stick with the group classes for next week, even though the writing is, well, impossible. My friend and classmate, Elian, from Switzerland, has been so sweet and helpful, and she´s going to make copies of her notes for me every day. What a dear.
The doctor said I need to come back on the 29th to get the cast off and have some "rehabilitation" (that seems a bit dramatic, yes?), which has sort of thrown things off since I was loosely planning to hit the road next weekend. So...one day at a time. We will see. The parentals are no longer coming, so I am free to do what I like.
Okay, yowsers. I have written this in two sittings, and this little arm of mine is getting very irritated with me. It´s asking for ice cream, and who am I to say no? Off we go!
More later...mañana perhaps.
It´s Saturday afternoon, a beautiful day, and my friends have gone off on a two day hike up to a refugio and back, and I am stranded here. We decided that it probably was not the best idea for me and my cement arm to attempt it. I had a brief meltdown yesterday, when I realized I am going to be excluded from almost all activities for the next two weeks, but I felt much better once I got a little frustration out of my system. And, as I told my pops yesterday, God forbid I be stranded in a beautiful resort town with nothing to do for two weeks. If I can find a problem with that, I will never be able to make myself happy doing anything!
So I went out this morning and bought a new book ($20 US for a paperback - a price I am willing to pay), and if all I do this weekend is sit by the lake and read, it will be a weekend well spent.
But how did I get here?
Well, my week was off to a great start. Monday after classes, we had a brief city tour, followed by beers and peanuts at a local brewery. Bariloche is a town of about 100,000 residents, and it has grown quickly! The town has really only been here for about 100 years. It´s situated between the very dry "step" area to the east, and the wet mountains of Chile to the west, so this makes for some interesting weather phenomena, apparently. I am told that it snowed here about a month ago (very odd because it´s the middle of summer here), and that the weather can change drastically overnight. And indeed, the extremes in a day here are amazing. The first few days, it felt like it was about 85 degrees in the middle of the day, but about 50 after the sun went down. And, the sun doesn´t go down here til 10:30 pm!! How amazing is that? For nine months of the year, Bariloche is one hour behind Buenos Aires, but for three months in the summer (now), they set the clock forward an hour to save electricity. It is a bit disorienting to eat dinner at 9:30 pm, while the sun is still out, and then have time to go for a walk after dinner before sunset. A bit disorienting, but I like it!
Tuesday, we hiked up Cerro Campanario - only about a 30 minute climb, but straight up, and I was wearing my Chacos because we had been told we were just going to ride up the ski lift to the top. But, of course, when the option to walk presented itself, I took it. The paths to the top were covered with slippy slidy dirt, so by the time we got to the top, my feet were brown brown brown. The view from the top was incredible - hopefully that was obvious from the pictures. You can see seven lakes from up there, as well as the mountains bordering Chile, and all of Bariloche. Just beautiful.
(As a side-note, I have been thinking about the word beautiful, and how it´s the only word to really describe things here, but it doesn´t feel strong enough because it´s so overused. All words for beauty feel trite and obnoxious. Breathtaking seems dramatic. Gorgeous seems silly. Simply beautiful. The most perfect kind of beauty - totally natural.)
The way back down the mountain was a mess for me. I might as well have laid down on my stomach and rolled down because that´s about what I looked like when I reached the bottom. I had a little tumble when I started running down the hill and couldn´t put on the breaks with my little Chacos. A little scrape on my left ankle, but otherwise, just a bit dirty. That was not to be the last time I would walk the hill up to my house covered with dirt and getting funny looks from passers-by. Oh, no.
Wednesday afternoon was mountain biking, and I was really excited. We were going to ride part of Circuito Chico, a 60 km loop through some of the most beautiful areas around Bariloche. I´d never been mountain biking before, and I think my most recent previous experience on a bike was on a beach cruiser in Sanibel about three years ago. So I am not sure why I was so confident that I could go mountain biking (in the mountains) without having an accident.
We were on the bikes for about four hours, and the first 3.5 hours were amazing. It was a perfect day - blue skies, green trees, lakes, mountains, breezes. We hadn´t been given any kind of lesson on how the bikes worked - I suppose the folks at the rental place assumed we weren´t inexperienced ninnies - so it took me about an hour to sort out the gears and whatnot.
With the exception of an after dinner walk every now and then, I have not done any intentional exercise since I left the States. It was, therefore, exhilarating to get on that bike and to feel my muscles working again. The first few hills were challenging, to say the least, but it´s the kind of challenging I like - physical and mental. I love getting my head into a little meditation place during exercise - when things start to physically get hard, I focus on my breathing and count, in two, out two, in two, out two. Eyes glaze over, mind empties, and before you know it, you´ve pushed yourself through, forgotten about the "I can´t". That, for me, is the reward of exercise. The mental challenge - telling myself I can - is always greater than the physical.
And so it was on this little bicycle. I´d come around a corner, and see a long stretch of road ahead, a steep climb, and I´d think to myself, you´ve got to be kidding me... But then, my mind would click over to challenge mode - "I will not let this hill get the best of me!" - and I´d just push push push, breathe breathe breathe.
The downhills were a different sort of challenge. The others in the group (there were 7 of us, I think), would go flying on ahead, and I´d sort of cruise on down, taking my sweet time, riding my brakes, clinging to any bit of control I had over that bike. I was formulating this little metaphor in my head while I was riding - something about riding the brakes. I was thinking that on the bike, as in life, it´s so terrifying to let go of the brakes and just let yourself go, let yourself be carried on down the road. It feels much better mentally to have that hand on the break, slowing yourself, proceeding with caution, but you are losing out on quite a ride that way.
After an hour or two, I loosened my grip, and let myself fly. It´s an incredible feeling to reach the top of a hill that you were certain you couldn´t climb, and then just let yourself go, let yourself savor that downhill reward.
I loved every minute of it. I sang songs to myself, thought to myself, and always, always marveled at the beauty of my surroundings.
In the last 20-30 minutes of the trip, we took some sort of short cut down a long dirt road - I think we were trying to avoid a heavily trafficked road. The road was relatively flat, maybe a slight downward slant, but I was the last in our line of bikers, and I could not see anything on the ground below me because of the clouds of dirt the wheels had stirred up. I was thinking about the dirt, thinking about these brown clouds, wondering if this was considered dirt bike riding, when all of a sudden, I was on the ground. I really don´t know what happened. One second on, the next off.
I fell off on the right side of my bike, and my right arm went down first, absorbing my whole body weight. Elisabeth was maybe 50 feet ahead of me, and she heard me yelp as I went down, so she came back to check on me, and then went ahead to get Matias, the "activities coordinator". I felt okay - no blood, nothing dramatic. More just shocked and startled than anything. But that arm was not feeling quite right. Matias and Elisabeth and Eric arrived, we took a few deep breaths, Matias insisted on some photos, and then I was back on the bike.
The arm was feeling worse and worse as I pedaled onto the rental shop. The pressure I was having to put on it to steady myself on the bike was becoming more and more painful, but I did make it (though not without fighting a lot of tears).
We had a thirty minute bus ride back to Bariloche, and by the time we got off, I was certain I needed to get the arm checked out. So translator Matias walked me up to Bariloche´s private hospital, and within just a few minutes, I was in front of a doctor, and shuffled off to the x-ray room.
It was certainly a few (or many) steps down from a hospital in the States, but it was a hospital, and the nurses were smiling patiently and speaking soothingly, though I couldn´t understand what they were saying. Matias had to wash my arm off because I guess that´s somehow not the responsibility of the hospital staff, so that was pretty amusing - he´s this 26 year old laughing hyena of a person who clearly has this job because he´s mr. social, mr. party man. I was in and out in 45 minutes, and it only set me back about $80 US (maybe that´s why they didn´t wash my arm for me).
Matias then walked me up the hill to my house and presented me to my appropriately concerned padres, who were just finishing up dinner. So dramatic, so silly, so pathetic.
Everything is going to be fine. This cast seems like a bit of overkill to me, but what do I know? My arm does feel much better in the cast, though. And I am learning to brush my teeth with my left hand, wash just my left hand, take off my clothes, put on my clothes, and all of those good things. I felt a bit lost that first night, because all I wanted to do was take a shower, but I didn´t have my mommy or a best friend to help me and laugh at me. Ana Maria, mi "madre" here, offered to help me, but you know, it´s just not the same, and there´s that pride thing, too. So I settled for a bath, and showed up at school the next morning still feeling revolting, but at least I showed up, right?
What an adventure.
I have decided to stick with the group classes for next week, even though the writing is, well, impossible. My friend and classmate, Elian, from Switzerland, has been so sweet and helpful, and she´s going to make copies of her notes for me every day. What a dear.
The doctor said I need to come back on the 29th to get the cast off and have some "rehabilitation" (that seems a bit dramatic, yes?), which has sort of thrown things off since I was loosely planning to hit the road next weekend. So...one day at a time. We will see. The parentals are no longer coming, so I am free to do what I like.
Okay, yowsers. I have written this in two sittings, and this little arm of mine is getting very irritated with me. It´s asking for ice cream, and who am I to say no? Off we go!
More later...mañana perhaps.
Thursday, February 14, 2008
thrills and spills
well, amigos, it´s been an eventful, clumsy few days here in the mountains. i was going to try to write about it, but if you will check out my most recent pictures (http://picasaweb.google.com/ellen.bucy), you will see why typing is a bit laborious today. happy vday to me;)
not to worry. i am not so easily taken down! but si, i have fractured my arm. the dr says only 2 weeks in this charming cast - so not sure how this is or is not going to change my plans (ie, whether i will attempt the next week of classes without my writing arm). will take it easy this weekend and figure out next steps, but the blog may suffer. i feel like the guy in the diving bell and the butterfly - if only i had someone to type for me. i may work on the telling of this story over the next few days - because it´s a good one and i don´t want to forget - but it may take awhile. i put some captions on the photos and that´s about all me and my left hand can muster today.
i will go ahead and say that i went down having a grand ole time. well worth a trip to the hospital.
anyway, hope you all in one piece. much love on this luvin day. chau!
not to worry. i am not so easily taken down! but si, i have fractured my arm. the dr says only 2 weeks in this charming cast - so not sure how this is or is not going to change my plans (ie, whether i will attempt the next week of classes without my writing arm). will take it easy this weekend and figure out next steps, but the blog may suffer. i feel like the guy in the diving bell and the butterfly - if only i had someone to type for me. i may work on the telling of this story over the next few days - because it´s a good one and i don´t want to forget - but it may take awhile. i put some captions on the photos and that´s about all me and my left hand can muster today.
i will go ahead and say that i went down having a grand ole time. well worth a trip to the hospital.
anyway, hope you all in one piece. much love on this luvin day. chau!
Monday, February 11, 2008
Viajando y Llegando
(From Saturday, 2/9/08)
I´ve been on the road for a little over four hours now. It´s been four hours of endless flat. Farms of corn and cows, splashes of of marshes and shallow lakes, trees, skies like paintings with perfect puffs of whites and greys. A huge patch of sunflowers just passed by - incredible black faces staring out at me.
It´s familiar and strange. It´s the farmlands of Indiana or Ohio or Kansa or Iowa with the brightnes turned up. The greens are lusher, and the trees! I can´t figure out what it is about the trees here. They´re pines in the desert. There are random patches of them, like they´ve been planted for the purpose of creating a barrier or a shelter, and they´re so varied - all different texture and colors. It´s so beautiful.
This bus is amazing - definitely the way to travel here. I have a deluxe, super-cushy seat, a foot rest that extends all the way, so I can fully stretch out my legs, and I can lean the back of my chair all the way down. It´s like flying first class, just much better scenery. There´s a steward who hands out snacks and meals and beverages. Vino mas tarde, tambien! I´m very glad I chose to travel this way instead of flying. So relaxing - like train-riding - and so much to see. We are supposed to arrive in Bariloche around 10 AM tomorrow morning, and I´m scared I´m going to miss something amazing if I fall asleep!
There are these little "stations" we stop at every hour or so to pick up a new passenger. Basically dirt roads in the middle of nowhere. And, as it was at the bus station in Buenos Aires, it´s always a family affair. A whole carload of folks comes to see off their loved one, all standing outside and waving as we pull off down the road. It´s so old-fashioned. I love it. The deluxe bus is clearly a luxury - and a big deal.
The economic standing of this country reveals itself in little things like that. In more obvious ways, too. This afternoon, a homeless teenager stole the tip I was leaving for my waiter right off the table, right in front of me. Several of these boys had been prowling around this cafe in the bus station. I guess there are no rules against begging in BsAs because it was not the first time in the last month that beggars had approached my table, in the middle of a meal, to ask for money or food. Today, while I was waiting on my food, I watched as one of these boys asked another customer for his leftover fries. When the customer said, sure, fine, the boy just reached his big dirty hand out and grabbed them up right off of the plate.
I had a stack of six 25 cent coins sitting on my table, and when I stood up to heave-ho my enormous backpack onto my back, the kid approached the table, calmly picked up the coins, and just walked off. As he reached down to take them, I said, "No!" I couldn´t even think, I was so dumbfounded by what was happening. He sort of smirked at me, said, "Yes!" and hurried off to snicker about it with his friends. The cafe was crowded; there were tons of witnesses, but I felt totally helpless. Of course, worse, I took several steps away from the table, walking off after the guy, and then realized I had left my smaller backpack on the table. Thank God it was still there - the beggars here work in pairs; one distracts while the other steals.
Several customers told the waiters what had happened. I just stood there, speechless and beginning to burn with anger. One of the waiters headed off after them, but I doubt he accomplished anything. It´s an insignificant amount of money - 50 cents US - so I just walked away. But the way the whole episode made me feel was awful - an ugly mix of embarrassment and fury and disgust and confusion. I´m sure that kid needed that 50 cents more than me or my waiter, but it was the arrogance with which he took it that enraged me. I felt revolted by him and his poverty and his desparation, and I felt revolted with myself for being so revolted by him.
Of course, this wasn´t a dangerous situation by any means, but it was definitely a good lesson. I´m really careful with my things, but I also expect a certain amount of decency from other people. It´s stupid that I can´t trust that if I leave a tip on the table, it won´t be snatched up by a passer-by. Not stupid. I guess I´ve just been spoiled by a world where nobody´s that kind of desperate (or at least the government´s doing a good job of keeping them away). Naivety stikes again.
Anyway, before I really embark on my travels, I am going to try to lighten my load a bit. If your backpack´s so heavy you make yourself vulnerable every time you put it on, that´s a problemo!
I was just surprised to look down at my watch and see that it´s 8:15 PM. It looks and feels like it´s about 3 PM. These long days are good for my health, I´ve decided. I should be sunflower! These fields of sunflowers are breathtaking - looks like a nice place to spend some time.
***
(Sunday, 2/10/08)
I woke up around 2:30 AM this morning and peered out the window to find a sky full of stars. I´ve never seen anything like it. Never seen so many stars. It was incredible. Several times recently, I´ve seen Orion in the night sky over Buenos Aires, but he was always pretty lonely up there. Last night, I could see Orion (because his stars are brighter than others), but he was almost hard to make out because his space was invaded by thousands of little stars. The entire sky was covered. More stars than sky. Gorgeous. How do I explain what it feels like to be laying in a very comfy little bed and to wake to such an incredible sight? How can I explain getting lulled back to sleep by such a sky?
I woke again around 8:30 AM to find the landscape totally changed. The flat farmland had been replaced by rolling yellow hills, the land totally barren of trees. There were tufts of shrubbery - broccoli-like bunches of dry greens sprouting up from the rocky earth and the long, yellow grasses.
***
(Today, the present)
I didn´t finish that because we shortly thereafter arrived in Bariloche. It was facinating, though, to watch the landscape change - to watch those dry, yellowed hills grow into mountains full of pines and deep blue lakes. All in about an hour! I was told yesterday that that yellow area (that´s all I can say about it - yellow), is called "The Step," anywhere in the world. The transition area before the mountains. Anyone know anything about that? Dad-0?
We arrived right on schedule, and I was just bubbling over with excitement as we pulled into Bariloche. It´s unbelievably beautiful here. And cool! I stepped off the bus with a bit of a shiver! By afternoon, it had warmed up significantly, but the mornings and evenings hacen mucho frio!
It´s a smallish resort town - about 100,000 residents, I believe. Tourism is their main industry - skiing in the winter, and everything you can think of in the summer. Hiking, biking, camping, paragliding, etc. Eeeeee! It reminds me vaguley of any town like this in the States - Jackson, WY, Boone, NC. Many of the houses are built in that Alpine style, like the houses in Hound Ears (what is that place called, Jordy? Hounds Run? Hound Ears?) in Boone. Little wedges of houses, built so the snow just slides right down the sides.
I knew my friends Nicole and Kate were just finishing up here, and I managed to find their hostel when I left the bus station, so I got to spend a couple hours with them, catching up, sharing stories of the past two weeks, eating lunch, eating chocolate. (Bariloche, for whatever reason, is famous for it´s chocolate - there are about four chocolate shops on every block. Just what I need after daily helado in BsAs!) Anyway, very good to see them again - they left early this morning for El Chalten and the parks down thataways. Torres del Paine, I believe. Perhaps I will see them mas tarde, no se.
Around 6 PM, I walked myself over to my new house. And yes, this time, it´s a real house -with a back yard and everything. I´m enchanted by this family and their life here. (I keep wanting to write in Spanish, and I´m really trying to restrain myself, by the way.) The parents are in their 50s, and they have a total of five children, three of whom are in their mid-late 20s and have moved away. The others are a 17 year old boy and a 13 year old girl. There´s a real K-9, a german shepherd, who tried to eat my arm yesterday (but I said, ha! Esta bien!), and tres gatos! One´s a little Siamese meowser, who looks a bit like a kitty I once knew named Sue, and the other is an unremarkable little kitty, and the other is a gigantic grey beast. A puma, I think! Reeer! I cannot remember the names of any of these animals - they´re all Spanish. Apparently the german shephard only understands German. (Yuk, yuk, yuk.)
The house is a home. I love it. Everything´s wooden and it´s full of clutter and pictures and history. Very lived in. My kind of place. They leave the windows open during the day, and the kitties wander in and out, and the dog stands up on his hind legs and peers into the windows, so left out! Last night, when I was in bed, trying to fall asleep, I kept getting rudely startled by the dog, who was trying to open my bedroom windows from outside!
It´s a real family kind of family, too. Home-made, sit-down dinners around the table every night, with educational TV afterward. Eerily like my own upbringing. (NOVA´s on tonight, sweetie! Oh boy!) Anyway, it´s perfect.
And...the school is directly across the street. I had my first round of classes this morning, and I´ve been put into 2B, even thought I just finished 1B and should be in 2A. But because the school is significantly smaller (maybe 30 students to BsAs´200), they have merged some of the classes, so 2A and 2B are together. I´m not feeling terribly lost, fortunately. I think 2A and B are mostly for improving listening and talking, so it´s a lot of conversation and not so much new stuff.
There were 12 newbies today - 4 from the US (including me), one from Germany, 6 from Switzerland, and 1 from Austria - so that´s good. And mi amigo, Eric, from BsAs is here, so that´s muy bien, tambien.
The activities the school organizes are almost entirely outdoors, and I´m going to do as much as I can! I think now, I am going to wander down to the center of the town (just a 5 minute walk, maybe - this place is very small) and try to get some info on day hikes. Perhaps I will even do one today!
Allllllll of this is to say, I am happy. I think this is going to be a great couple of weeks.
I´ve been on the road for a little over four hours now. It´s been four hours of endless flat. Farms of corn and cows, splashes of of marshes and shallow lakes, trees, skies like paintings with perfect puffs of whites and greys. A huge patch of sunflowers just passed by - incredible black faces staring out at me.
It´s familiar and strange. It´s the farmlands of Indiana or Ohio or Kansa or Iowa with the brightnes turned up. The greens are lusher, and the trees! I can´t figure out what it is about the trees here. They´re pines in the desert. There are random patches of them, like they´ve been planted for the purpose of creating a barrier or a shelter, and they´re so varied - all different texture and colors. It´s so beautiful.
This bus is amazing - definitely the way to travel here. I have a deluxe, super-cushy seat, a foot rest that extends all the way, so I can fully stretch out my legs, and I can lean the back of my chair all the way down. It´s like flying first class, just much better scenery. There´s a steward who hands out snacks and meals and beverages. Vino mas tarde, tambien! I´m very glad I chose to travel this way instead of flying. So relaxing - like train-riding - and so much to see. We are supposed to arrive in Bariloche around 10 AM tomorrow morning, and I´m scared I´m going to miss something amazing if I fall asleep!
There are these little "stations" we stop at every hour or so to pick up a new passenger. Basically dirt roads in the middle of nowhere. And, as it was at the bus station in Buenos Aires, it´s always a family affair. A whole carload of folks comes to see off their loved one, all standing outside and waving as we pull off down the road. It´s so old-fashioned. I love it. The deluxe bus is clearly a luxury - and a big deal.
The economic standing of this country reveals itself in little things like that. In more obvious ways, too. This afternoon, a homeless teenager stole the tip I was leaving for my waiter right off the table, right in front of me. Several of these boys had been prowling around this cafe in the bus station. I guess there are no rules against begging in BsAs because it was not the first time in the last month that beggars had approached my table, in the middle of a meal, to ask for money or food. Today, while I was waiting on my food, I watched as one of these boys asked another customer for his leftover fries. When the customer said, sure, fine, the boy just reached his big dirty hand out and grabbed them up right off of the plate.
I had a stack of six 25 cent coins sitting on my table, and when I stood up to heave-ho my enormous backpack onto my back, the kid approached the table, calmly picked up the coins, and just walked off. As he reached down to take them, I said, "No!" I couldn´t even think, I was so dumbfounded by what was happening. He sort of smirked at me, said, "Yes!" and hurried off to snicker about it with his friends. The cafe was crowded; there were tons of witnesses, but I felt totally helpless. Of course, worse, I took several steps away from the table, walking off after the guy, and then realized I had left my smaller backpack on the table. Thank God it was still there - the beggars here work in pairs; one distracts while the other steals.
Several customers told the waiters what had happened. I just stood there, speechless and beginning to burn with anger. One of the waiters headed off after them, but I doubt he accomplished anything. It´s an insignificant amount of money - 50 cents US - so I just walked away. But the way the whole episode made me feel was awful - an ugly mix of embarrassment and fury and disgust and confusion. I´m sure that kid needed that 50 cents more than me or my waiter, but it was the arrogance with which he took it that enraged me. I felt revolted by him and his poverty and his desparation, and I felt revolted with myself for being so revolted by him.
Of course, this wasn´t a dangerous situation by any means, but it was definitely a good lesson. I´m really careful with my things, but I also expect a certain amount of decency from other people. It´s stupid that I can´t trust that if I leave a tip on the table, it won´t be snatched up by a passer-by. Not stupid. I guess I´ve just been spoiled by a world where nobody´s that kind of desperate (or at least the government´s doing a good job of keeping them away). Naivety stikes again.
Anyway, before I really embark on my travels, I am going to try to lighten my load a bit. If your backpack´s so heavy you make yourself vulnerable every time you put it on, that´s a problemo!
I was just surprised to look down at my watch and see that it´s 8:15 PM. It looks and feels like it´s about 3 PM. These long days are good for my health, I´ve decided. I should be sunflower! These fields of sunflowers are breathtaking - looks like a nice place to spend some time.
***
(Sunday, 2/10/08)
I woke up around 2:30 AM this morning and peered out the window to find a sky full of stars. I´ve never seen anything like it. Never seen so many stars. It was incredible. Several times recently, I´ve seen Orion in the night sky over Buenos Aires, but he was always pretty lonely up there. Last night, I could see Orion (because his stars are brighter than others), but he was almost hard to make out because his space was invaded by thousands of little stars. The entire sky was covered. More stars than sky. Gorgeous. How do I explain what it feels like to be laying in a very comfy little bed and to wake to such an incredible sight? How can I explain getting lulled back to sleep by such a sky?
I woke again around 8:30 AM to find the landscape totally changed. The flat farmland had been replaced by rolling yellow hills, the land totally barren of trees. There were tufts of shrubbery - broccoli-like bunches of dry greens sprouting up from the rocky earth and the long, yellow grasses.
***
(Today, the present)
I didn´t finish that because we shortly thereafter arrived in Bariloche. It was facinating, though, to watch the landscape change - to watch those dry, yellowed hills grow into mountains full of pines and deep blue lakes. All in about an hour! I was told yesterday that that yellow area (that´s all I can say about it - yellow), is called "The Step," anywhere in the world. The transition area before the mountains. Anyone know anything about that? Dad-0?
We arrived right on schedule, and I was just bubbling over with excitement as we pulled into Bariloche. It´s unbelievably beautiful here. And cool! I stepped off the bus with a bit of a shiver! By afternoon, it had warmed up significantly, but the mornings and evenings hacen mucho frio!
It´s a smallish resort town - about 100,000 residents, I believe. Tourism is their main industry - skiing in the winter, and everything you can think of in the summer. Hiking, biking, camping, paragliding, etc. Eeeeee! It reminds me vaguley of any town like this in the States - Jackson, WY, Boone, NC. Many of the houses are built in that Alpine style, like the houses in Hound Ears (what is that place called, Jordy? Hounds Run? Hound Ears?) in Boone. Little wedges of houses, built so the snow just slides right down the sides.
I knew my friends Nicole and Kate were just finishing up here, and I managed to find their hostel when I left the bus station, so I got to spend a couple hours with them, catching up, sharing stories of the past two weeks, eating lunch, eating chocolate. (Bariloche, for whatever reason, is famous for it´s chocolate - there are about four chocolate shops on every block. Just what I need after daily helado in BsAs!) Anyway, very good to see them again - they left early this morning for El Chalten and the parks down thataways. Torres del Paine, I believe. Perhaps I will see them mas tarde, no se.
Around 6 PM, I walked myself over to my new house. And yes, this time, it´s a real house -with a back yard and everything. I´m enchanted by this family and their life here. (I keep wanting to write in Spanish, and I´m really trying to restrain myself, by the way.) The parents are in their 50s, and they have a total of five children, three of whom are in their mid-late 20s and have moved away. The others are a 17 year old boy and a 13 year old girl. There´s a real K-9, a german shepherd, who tried to eat my arm yesterday (but I said, ha! Esta bien!), and tres gatos! One´s a little Siamese meowser, who looks a bit like a kitty I once knew named Sue, and the other is an unremarkable little kitty, and the other is a gigantic grey beast. A puma, I think! Reeer! I cannot remember the names of any of these animals - they´re all Spanish. Apparently the german shephard only understands German. (Yuk, yuk, yuk.)
The house is a home. I love it. Everything´s wooden and it´s full of clutter and pictures and history. Very lived in. My kind of place. They leave the windows open during the day, and the kitties wander in and out, and the dog stands up on his hind legs and peers into the windows, so left out! Last night, when I was in bed, trying to fall asleep, I kept getting rudely startled by the dog, who was trying to open my bedroom windows from outside!
It´s a real family kind of family, too. Home-made, sit-down dinners around the table every night, with educational TV afterward. Eerily like my own upbringing. (NOVA´s on tonight, sweetie! Oh boy!) Anyway, it´s perfect.
And...the school is directly across the street. I had my first round of classes this morning, and I´ve been put into 2B, even thought I just finished 1B and should be in 2A. But because the school is significantly smaller (maybe 30 students to BsAs´200), they have merged some of the classes, so 2A and 2B are together. I´m not feeling terribly lost, fortunately. I think 2A and B are mostly for improving listening and talking, so it´s a lot of conversation and not so much new stuff.
There were 12 newbies today - 4 from the US (including me), one from Germany, 6 from Switzerland, and 1 from Austria - so that´s good. And mi amigo, Eric, from BsAs is here, so that´s muy bien, tambien.
The activities the school organizes are almost entirely outdoors, and I´m going to do as much as I can! I think now, I am going to wander down to the center of the town (just a 5 minute walk, maybe - this place is very small) and try to get some info on day hikes. Perhaps I will even do one today!
Allllllll of this is to say, I am happy. I think this is going to be a great couple of weeks.
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