En Serio?

This week has been crazy. Every day seemed to drag on forever, but looking back it has gone fast. I seem to be making progress with my Spanish, but not as much as I’d like to be.

Thursday was my birthday, which was both bitter and sweet. My host mom gave me flowers and made a cake. She sang feliz cumpleanos at breakfast and lit a single candle. After she was done singing in English too, I blew out the candle—which apparently is not the correct thing to do in Argentina because my host mom became annoyed with the ceiling fan, blaming it for extinguishing my candle. She was all set to light it again when I managed to convey that I blew it out, because that’s what we do back home. Then we had to go do the first step in getting a visa (we had to be there at 8, leave at 7. Yeah, happy birthday to me). But class was good. They sang to me again, and Jessica gave me two children’s books in Spanish so I could maybe actually read them. I had to give a presentation in class on a province in Argentina, and I felt like a 4 year old speaking in front of the class, which was not fun. I’ve realized how much communication actually means. At home, I like to think that I present myself well, as an educated and cultured individual. But without words, it’s a lot harder to present the person I want to be. I have to rely a lot on nonverbal communication, which only works to an extent. After class we went out for ice cream at Freddo’s. It’s supposed to be the best ice cream in Argentina, but I personally thought the dollar dulce de leche cone from Burger King was better. Gasp I guess I am still an American after all.

It has been quite the saga trying to get the package my mom sent me. It arrived on Tuesday, which was great news. But instead of being sent to the ISA office, where our mail is supposed to go, it was sent to the official post office “international parcel” place—about 45 minutes away on the subway. I didn’t know this on Wednesday, when I went to find the address Google Maps led me to (which was conveniently much closer to my school), only to realize it was a wild goose chase. Thanks Google. Then on Friday, when I was prepared to make the trek to the post office, I had to leave class early because they’re only open from 9 to 4 M-F, and getting there after class wouldn’t give me enough time to wait in line. So, skipping the last hour of class, I made it to the post office. Jessica and I had to fun across ten lanes of traffic because we weren’t sure if they would actually stop for the cross walk. We survived, waited in line, and filled out the paper work. But when my number was called, they asked for my official passport. I only had a copy, which ISA told me would be okay. So I couldn’t get my package after all that. Jessica is such a sweetheart though, I’m glad she was with me, otherwise I wouldn’t have known what to do. She even bought me orange juice to make me feel better.

When I got home, however, I did not feel better. No one was home, which was weird for here. I think it was the first time no one else has been around. And the internet wasn’t working. Maybe they turn it off when no one is home, but I don’t know. I felt incredibly alone. Completely isolated from my family with no way to connect to them, and helpless because I couldn’t even get my package they sent. It’s silly that in a city of 10 million plus people, I could feel so alone. I think it’s the closest I’ve come to having a panic attack. I knew I couldn’t stay alone, so I pulled it together enough to walk to the ISA office, where they have internet and people. After talking to my mom and Glenn, and the ISA staff some, I felt better. But I don’t want to feel like that again. I am in control of my happiness, and am not alone. I will go soon to get my package, and it will be ok. Really.

Friday night by birthday celebrations continued with tango and salsa dance class. This time I went to the “intermediate” tango class, which was (big surprise here) much harder than the beginner. All of the men (they call them machos) were at different levels and knew different steps. It’s really hard to follow someone who is above my skill level, but it’s even worse to follow someone who no clue what he’s doing. Even with the unknown, I picked it up quickly and enjoyed it. After tango was salsa. Since it was Friday night, there were a lot more people out. There were probably 200 people dancing in rows, trying to follow the 4 instructors in the front. Difficult, but fun. And fun to watch the obviously tourists (yes, I still include myself in that category) try to move their hips like the locals do. There’s just no comparison. It’s like they say: hips don’t lie.

After dancing, Jessica invited us up to her balcony and we drank wine. It was a beautiful ending to the week. The weather we nice and the conversation interesting. We had talked about going to a boliche (dance club) but I much preferred a mellow evening after a long week.

Random observations for the week: 1. Napkins here feel more like wax paper than anything soft or absorbent. 2. There are loose street tiles that hide excess water, so when you step on one just right, your entire leg gets splashed with nasty street grime. 3. Si si si si si. Oh my god, I get it. Yes. So many people here, both the Argentines and the Americans, say si si si si si whenever they’re making it clear they understand, or that you understand. It’s just one of those phrases that people pick up. But it drives me crazy. One day I’m sure I’ll say it, and then you can make fun of me for it. But for now, I will continue to cringe every time someone says si more than 4 times. Which will be a lot of cringing. I know, right? Seriously? Or, in Spanish, en serio? Si.

Ok, so here’s the deal with the sube cards. I need one. So does everyone else. The sube card will let me get on the subway, buses, trains, etc, without having to wait in line to buy the ticket. The problem is that the government is raising the prices of the subway and bus for everyone who doesn’t have a sube card. Which means there is a very high demand, and a pretty low turnover rate. It’s crazy to see people in lines for blocks and blocks, waiting for multiple hours; just to save a few pesos. Hopefully the obsession will die down shortly and I will be able to get a card before Feb. 10^th when the subsidies go away. Either way, it’s interesting to see what people really care about here, and what they’re willing to do to react against the government.

Another random aside (remember I warned you that my English skills get worse the longer I try to learn Spanish. That includes organization too). This morning I was packing my lunch and discovered tiny ants invading my cookies. Dude, not cool. So I tried to rid my food stash of them, only to find they spread to my crackers too. There’s not a ton of them, and it could definitely be worse than ants—they are relatively harmless. Better ants than cockroaches. At any rate, it was not a good way to start the day. Let’s hope that the ants find a new home outside now that the rain has passed.

On Saturday, Jessica, Charnell, Paul, Kelsey, and I went to La Plata. It’s about an hour from here and was the original capital of the Buenos Aires province. It feels a lot more like a university town than a big city (even though it still has about 600,000 people). I loved getting away from the city. It was so nice not to have to worry about being robbed every minute, or getting run over by a bus. It was a good mix between relaxing and interesting. We went to a zoo, a museum, the cathedral, and a market.

There was a lot of interesting “art” on the streets in La Plata. From pretty graffiti to paid political graffiti, we saw it all. Apparently, different people would hire other people to go out and spray paint, down with the government! or, so and so for president! I wish I understood more Spanish so I could get a better feel for the political state here, but that will come.

Overall I felt like it was a good weekend, but I also felt emotionally drained. I wasn’t as happy or carefree as I usually am when traveling, and I got frustrated with stupid things, like where to eat dinner. It was partially because of my mental breakdown the day before, but partially a buildup of being in a foreign environment for so long. Nevertheless, I loved spending time with this group of people. I think we bonded a lot, and I’m excited for future trips—Even if I am still trying to figure out who I want to be here. Because really, I can be anyone, as long as it’s me. 

It’s not better. Not worse. Just different.

Two weeks down, 14 more to go. I feel better overall and I think I’m getting the hang of this big city thing. The Spanish is getting easier to understand (although not by much) and I am more comfortable in my surroundings. The weather is still hot and miserable, and the humidity makes my eyebrows curl. But my school has air conditioning, and so does the kitchen of my host home (but it’s only been on 3 times. You know it’s hot when the senora turns on the AC), as does the ISA office. It’s a nice place to go and do homework, hang out, and get tutoring.

Christmas seems so far away. I can’t believe that two weeks ago I was still in the US. It doesn’t seem possible. It feels like a different life. Every time I travel this happens. There is some weird time-warp that international flights do to you that make the world you leave seem more distant and completely separate from the one you’re going to. I cannot grasp the concept of cold right now.

It’s hard to write in English. I find I spell words wrong and don’t use the same words I would have back home. So this whole blogging thing is going to be interesting.

Life would be a lot better with peanut butter. I’m sure I’ll get over it, but I like to pack my lunch to save money, and there are no good protein options that won’t spoil in the heat. It’s been a challenge not to eat meat (not that I’m totally opposed to it, but I just don’t enjoy it). I am thankful that dinner is always vegetarian. But they eat so late here that having no protein for lunch means crazy munchies around 5 or 6.

I tried to buy soy nuts in the supermarcado the other day, only to find out after eating a handful that they are actually soybeans. Which you’re not supposed to eat raw. I was all excited that I found a good source of protein for relatively cheap (almonds are ridiculously expensive), but then was frustrated that I couldn’t even eat what I bought. I’m supposed to cook them in boiling water, which I don’t know how to ask my senora if I can do that. Besides, the kitchen is her sacred place, so I don’t want to intrude. Anyway, found out the hard way that soybeans are “toxic” (thanks, Dr. Google) when eaten raw.

Listening to my music has really helped me adjust. Nothing like some Lady Gaga and Nickleback to keep me close to home. And of course the catchy “Red Solo Cup” to remind me of our trip to Kansas. My homework playlist helps me focus when I’m studying too. At least it drowns out some of the city noise.

On Tuesday I went to the National Museum of Beautiful Art. It was a really good day. I found my way around the city on a bus (which do not tell you which stop you’re at, you just have to know where you want off. They also don’t go in circles, so you have to get on the one going the right way.) At the museum, I was in the right mindset to really appreciate it. I found myself thinking about the people being portrayed and their stories. A lot of art looks sad, and then I thought that a lot of life is sad too. But there were plenty of other happy scenes to make up for it. I kept thinking it would be fun to write a story based on a piece of art. It’s kinda cool because I would already have the characters and a setting, but I want to make it come to life. I also got to thinking how much the artist is portrayed in a work of art. The artist is the one who really creates the moment and makes it last, and it’s as much his (or her!) emotion as it is the subject’s. It’s just cool. Then we went to this park and saw the metal flower that is open during the day and closed at night.

Wednesday we went down to China Town to try to find peanut butter. I’m pretty sure every county has a China Town. It’s Glenn’s theory that so many people want to leave China and move to a better country, that having mini-China country is so popular. It was cool to see stores selling some of the things I bought when I was in China. But the peanut butter was a fail. At the back of a fish market, we found a tiny jar of Skippy with Chinese writing on it, less than 8oz for $10. I guess I know where to go if I get desperate, but that’s just craziness.

Thursday I went to Tango class again. It was a lot of fun and I hope to go more. I danced with all strangers, most from other continents, and it was a good way to break out of my comfort zone. It was nice because it’s mostly in Spanish, but they can translate into English if we need it. I found myself recognizing a lot more words this week than I did last week, so I made me feel good about learning Spanish. The class went late, so I had to rush home in time for dinner. I was practically running through the streets and tried to made the subway go faster (that attempt sadly failed), but I did make it home with 2 minutes to spare—with a red face and sweat dripping from everywhere, but hey. In Gunnison it was nice to go to dance class for an hour and a half, then go home in 5 minutes. Here it takes about an hour on either end to get there, so it becomes three and half hours. But it’s worth it. Now I just need to get some sweet tango shoes.

I’m still not sure what to think of Pablo, my host “brother.” He’s in his 40s and still lives with his mom. I don’t think he helps around the house. At all. He will sit at the dinner table and wait for his mom to serve him food. She does his laundry and was upset with him for staining a shirt. We have to share a bathroom, which is ok most of the time, except when there are odd puddles of liquid on the floor close to the toilet. I tell myself it’s just water from the shower, but I have my doubts. He speaks some English, so I am grateful to have him around, but I won’t go out of my way to interact with him. He usually plays American music, which can be entertaining.

Ads on Youtube are in Spanish! It’s pretty cool, and makes sense, but I never thought about it before. And Spotify doesn’t work in Argentina without paying for it. Sad. But Pepsi Max comes in 2.25 liter bottles. Score.

Dorothy sent me the “Desiderata.” I was very happy to have mail, and it makes me grateful for friends. Here is the full text, because it’s so perfect for me right now—and anyone really—that I want to share it with you:

Go placidly amidst the noise and haste, and remember what peace there may be in silence. As far as possible without surrender be on good terms with all persons. Speak your truth quietly and clearly; and listen to others, even the dull and the ignorant; they too have their story.

Avoid loud and aggressive persons, they are vexations to the spirit. If you compare yourself with others, you may become vain or bitter; for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself.

Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans. Keep interested in your own career, however humble; it is a real possession in the changing fortunes of time.

Exercise caution in your business affairs; for the world is full of trickery. But let this not blind you to what virtue there is; many persons strive for high ideals; and everywhere life is full of heroism.

Be yourself. Especially, do not feign affection. Neither be cynical about love; for in the face of all aridity and disenchantment it is as perennial as the grass.

Take kindly the counsel of the years, gracefully surrendering the things of youth. Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune. But do not distress yourself with dark imaginings. Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness.

Beyond a wholesome discipline, be gentle with yourself. You are a child of the universe, no less than the trees and the stars; you have a right to be here.

And whether or not it is clear to you, no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should. Therefore be at peace with God, whatever you conceive Him to be, and whatever your labors and aspirations, in the noisy confusion of life keep peace with your soul. With all its sham, drudgery, and broken dreams, it is still a beautiful world. Be cheerful.

Strive to be happy.

Like I said to one of my friends--It’s a rollercoaster here, full of ups and downs. In one day I might go from hating this place and being frustrated with the language to loving it and laughing with friends. But the nice thing about rollercoasters is that even the down parts are still pretty dang fun.

Week One in Argentina

Leaving home was hard. I had been sick with the stomach bug and a sore throat, so I was weaker than I wanted to be physically, and still mentally exhausted. But I got on the plane. That’s all I could think about, was getting myself on the airplane, and then the rest was up to the Boeing 767.

I never thought of my time in Argentina as a vacation, so I was not as excited as I should have been. As my last semester of college, I’ve been going through a lot of transitions. Instead of being excited about the opportunities ahead, I was sad to leave the old ones behind. It’s still weird to think I won’t be going back to Gunnison for school.

The first several hours in Argentina were a haze. I was tired and tried to put on a good face to meet new people, but I just wanted to leave the airport and get settled.

Pablo met us at the university and we took a cab home. Thank goodness there is an elevator in my apartment complex. Matilde greeted us (my housemate from Ohio and I) with a kiss on the check. She fed us sandwiches with eggplant and tomato, and a very odd yellow sauce. My room is pretty comfortable, although it smells like smoke because it’s close to the balcony where people smoke. The mattress is about 4 inches thick, everything looks like it’s from the 60s, and there are at least 20 elephant figurines around the room. Matilde is in her 60s and used to be a teacher (I’m still not sure what she does now), and Pablo is her son. He is in his 40s and works as a psychologist. Pablo speaks some English, which is helpful, but Matilde does not speak very much. I am look forward to knowing more Spanish so I can communicate better. Right now I just feel awkward. I want to tell her I appreciate everything she does and ask about her life and family, but I can’t understand much more than “buen dai.”

The first full day we went on a tour of the city. It was nice to see the place I’ll be living, but I was not yet charmed by its full splendor. Instead of seeing the beauty of the buildings, I heard the horns of the taxis and brakes of the buses. Instead of appreciating the sunlight, I cursed the humidity and heat. But I did think it was a cool place, just not a place I want to live in for the next 4 months.

Here is a typical day so far: I get up at 8 and have breakfast that Matilde prepares for us. Bridget and I eat toast with butter and jelly (sometimes dulce de leche too) drink black tea and water, and have some piece of fruit. Matilde does not join us, but sits in another room and reads the paper and drinks mate. Then I walk to school, which takes about 30 minutes. Along the way, I try not to get hit by cars or people, while trying to blend in as much as possible. I pass a lot of stores and fruit stands, countless restaurants and supermarkets. There is usually dog poop at least twice, and I swear more potholes develop overnight. Class starts at 9:30, and goes til 2:30. We get two breaks, and I’ve been taking some sort of sandwich for lunch. Class is both frustrating and interesting. I feel like I’m learning a lot, but mi professora only speaks in Spanish, and since I have had no Spanish classes before, it is a challenge. After class, I’ll go home and study, or meander through the neighborhood. Dinner is at 8:30 (and that’s early for Argentineans), which consists of a salad and some vegetarian entree. We’ve had ice cream a few times too.

Most of the time on the streets I feel incompetent and lost. I can’t wait for the day I don’t feel shunned or judged because I’m a foreigner. I have not gone out at night to the boliches (dance clubs) because I don’t feel comfortable not knowing Spanish. The ISA people scared us into thinking we would get robbed when we are here--it’s just a matter of time, they said. To avoid drawing attention to ourselves, we aren’t supposed to speak English in public, take obvious pictures, or hang out in big groups of Americans. So far, we’ve done nothing but that.

The first few days I had the hardest time with the doors. I would push when it was pull, and vice versa. It took me several tries to get my host home open with these medieval looking keys I got, only to be greeted by both Pablo and Matilde watching me from the inside, forcing me to learn on my own. I don’t feel like I do anything right at home. There’s a trash can with a foot lift that Matilde showed me how to use. But the darn thing is so short and I’m so tall that I didn’t see when I opened the can with my food and threw away the table scraps on top of the can. I’ve choked on my water twice already at dinner. It’s the small things like this that make a big difference. One day, I hope I’ll be more relaxed and start to feel like this is home.

Everything here is a lot more expensive than I thought it would be. A lot. The government just raised the price of the subway, from 1.10 to 2.50 pesos (about 35 cents to 80 cents). Food inflation is horrible, and has gone up more in the past year than ever before. Soda (yes I’m addicted) is anywhere from 6-12 pesos ($1.50 to $3.00) on the streets, or a little bit less in the supermarcados. Lunch is expensive too, and a nice dinner out can cost up to 17USD (learned that one the hard way).

It’s an interesting time to be in Argentina. People don’t trust the government and there have been lots of strikes and rebellions. I don’t think it’s dangerous, it’s actually kinda cool to see the people doing something about their government. We went downtown to start the first step in getting a student visa, only to find they were on strike all week (we even had appointments). Some of the subway officials will let people on for free, in hopes that the government will get the point and lower the price back down. They are all investing in American dollars because they don’t trust the banks. In 2001 they had an economic crisis and everyone withdrew their money from the banks. They say it’s starting to happen again now. The government also just cut off all subsidies for electricity, so everything in homes and business is getting more expensive and we’re encouraged to conserve wherever we can.

PDA is crazy here. Boys are very assertive and everything means sex. So it’s a lot safer to make out on the streets than to go home to “watch a movie”. At clubs, if you make eye contact with a guy, he’s going to be all over you. No doesn’t mean no, it means try harder. Couples are all over each other. It’s pretty cute, but it really just makes me miss Glenn.

I miss home. I miss my family and friends, and even reslife. I miss waking up every day to something familiar. Everything is still overwhelming. I’m not used to the city noise out my window. The first night I kept being startled awake by the traffic, thinking it was the duty phone (oh dear). I’m not used to the heat and humidity. The first few days it was 100 and humid. Lately it’s been a bit cooler, but even in the middle of summer in Colorado, it’s not that hot. I think the language barrier is the hardest part. I want to be able to communicate and connect to people, relate to them. I feel like I can to some degree, but being able to speak would help.

Friday we had a psychologist come talk to us about culture shock. He said the main reasons we feel anxiety are from expectations and changes. He is sooo right. Argentina is not what I expected. It’s hard to think back now at what I thought it would be, since I’ve been here for a week and seen what it is, but I know it was nothing like a thought. So many people talked it up. They said, “Study abroad is the best experience of your life.” “Argentina is absolutely amazing, the best place you could go.” “You’ll love it there.” Well, when I got here and I didn’t love it, I thought that something was wrong with me. Why do all of these people think it’s something so great when I just want to get on the next plane back to the US? I think if people had said, “it was really hard, definitely a challenge,” I would have been better off. Guess it serves me right for listening to people.

The other part is changes. I know I’m resistant to change. It was hard for me to go off to college, and the first semester away was rough. So I kinda anticipated the changes here to be similar. But it’s weird not being able to find peanut butter, or read the instructions in class. It’s weird to eat dinner at 8:30 or later and only have toast for breakfast. Since I’ve travelled so much, I knew things would be different. But there’s a big difference between knowing something and living with it. I still wake up every day and think; do I really have to be here for the next 4 months? I know that it will change and get better, and time will fly and I won’t want to leave. But it sure doesn’t seem like it now. I’m taking it one day at a time. And slowly the days turn into weeks and the weeks turn into months.

The psychologist also said people who are in relationships have a harder time adjusting to the new way of life and homesickness is worse. I think that’s true. But I’m also very thankful Glenn has been there to help me through. I like how he knows what I’m going through, and I know what he’s going through. I am also glad my friend Charnell is in the same boat. Her boyfriend studied abroad last semester as well.

Yesterday we went to El Tigre. It was an excursion with the whole ISA group (like 60 of us). We took a train to get to the place where we took a bus-boat to get to the beach. It’s called the Venice of Argentina, but I actually thought it was prettier than Venice. The canals were very wide and people’s houses came right up to the water. There was a supermarcado boat that went around to people’s backyards, so they could shop for food right there. It was the first time I thought, yeah, I could see myself coming back here when I’m older. It’s a subtropical paradise. But the “beach” wasn’t that nice. We spent several hours on a tiny piece of land getting sunburned. It was nice not to do anything and just talk, but I got restless. After that we went to a market and I bought a purse made with Argentine leather. It was relatively cheap (when everything else is so expensive). Argentina is not a bargaining country, so it’s nice not to worry about getting a good deal. Then we went to a real beach and had afternoon “tea,” which consisted of croissants, chocolates, ham and cheese sandwiches, and hot chocolate. They brought us steamed milk and a bar of chocolate that didn’t quite dissolve. We then had free time to explore and take pictures. It was a beautiful place. I finally felt excited to be in Argentina with cool people. We could see the skyline of Buenos Aries in the distance, and the para-sailor on the other side. All of the Argentines seemed to be happy and carefree, so why shouldn’t I be too?  

Last night I was happy that I could ask my host mom what time breakfast was tomorrow. She was proud of me for speaking in Spanish and complemented me on my progress in only a week. So things are getting better. I have a feeling that I’m learning a lot more than I realize, but I still need to study hard. So, thank you for listening, but it’s time for me to study. Or explore. Or whatever comes my way.