Thursday, March 22nd, 2012
I’ve made note that one of my stressors here is the fact
that because I have so much more free time here due to my schedule and having
less homework, I feel bad when I just stay home and hang out, write or chat
with my host family. I should be out living right?! Well, I’m trying this:
Thursdays after class, I’ll try and have some kind of “café date” with a
friend, then Friday, I’ll go to a museum or other place of interest, then
Saturday I can do some combination of both and Sunday I’ll do homework and
catch up with friends or write more. Like I’ve said before, I’m not on
vacation, so it’s not obligatory to seize every
single moment, every single day. And in fact, this isn’t even possible. I
enjoy being at home, as this is where I get the most interaction with the
Spanish language outside of class, so it’s not like I’m alone in my room
napping until dinner every day. It’s no different than me hanging out in my
room at Gamma Phi after getting done with class.
So, given all this, I decided to make plans to visit Barrio Chino, which I see every day, but
had yet to visit. I invited Ryan, because it had been a while since Bariloche
and I didn’t want to already lose contact. He gladly accepted and we met right
by the grandiose entrance to Chinatown. We passed through the first block,
amused by all the trinkets typical in any Chinatown, or just in regular China.
While normally, I have to fight my shopping urges, this time it was simple
because I just don’t have the money or the need for such things. That, and the
fact that I was distracted by our conversation.
We stopped in an Asian grocery store chock full o’ the
typical Asian goodies that are as enticing as they are repulsive. I got tempted
down the candy aisle, but I couldn’t find my favorite Japanese candy (think
M&M’s meets Skittles—weird, I know, but SO incredible). Down the drink
aisle, I searched hopelessly for a beverage with apples and cucumber that I
remember fondly from Hong Kong. I still have yet to find this again…And so we
left empty handed.
Not much later, we reached the end of a block and realized
that we were getting out of the neighborhood, so we rounded back and went in
another direction, only to realize that again, we were outside the boundaries.
Alright, so we’re not in Chinatown in San Francisco…this Chinatown is so tiny
that you can make your way through it in an hour, with browsing. As we ambled
along a street we’d already been down (but this time on the other side…), I saw
a melon popsicle from Korea that my roommate recommended I try. OH. MY. GOD.
Melona popsicles are my soul. Korea you’ve done it again—how do you do
everything so perfectly? The flavor is the classic Asian fruity flavor that you
understand if you’ve tasted it before—so sweet and so saturated with the exact
flavor of X fruit that the next time you eat the actual fruit, you think “oh,
is that it??”. Then the texture…oh man the texture…so creamy and perfect.
Though it was a popsicle, there was no hint of ice or hardness. Things this
delicious should not be allowed to exist. I basically had a foodgasm on the
corner and Ryan was giving me the “girl, you crazy” look until he tried it. I
regret trying it, though, because now I think about it all the time and I have
never seen these in the US (at least not in my neck of the woods) and I will be
sad knowing they exist but I can’t have them again.
Yeah, that’s right…I fantasize about Korean popsicles. Judge
me.
After the popsicle, there was nothing more in the
neighborhood that could possible beat it, so we headed to a café/bar/restaurant
to chat and grab a bite. As is typical at a meal in Argentina, we talked
forever. The conversation started off as a simple question as to how Ryan got
his study abroad scholarship from the State Department, and this led to its
very complicated explanation and a million tangents during and after. We
realized we couldn’t tell one story without telling another, nor could we
answer a question without first asking ten more. And so it goes with me and talking
here. And anywhere.
If you couldn’t tell by my utter honesty on my blog, I am a
very open, direct and candid person who values the art and intrigue of a real conversation. I understand that not
every talk can be a life-changing, friendship-building spill session, but at
the same time, why not shoot for that more often? Why are we so afraid of
telling the truth, being vulnerable and sharing the details that matter? The
fact is that EVERYBODY has vulnerabilities and details worth knowing. Sometimes
these are exploited and for this, I understand why you can’t trust everybody
immediately, so it takes time. But if the other person is comfortable and
interested, then obviously I am too and I’m not afraid to invite them to see
the rest of the iceberg, so to speak. This can make me come off as too serious
and very intense to some people, which is an odd juxtaposition with how
ridiculous and silly I can be—but it’s all part of the Nikkiness. Which you
have taken time to read, so I thank you. Maybe you too are beginning to
understand the paradox.
Although I was in no mood to end the conversation, I had to
get back home for dinner and I was already running late. As we waited for my
train, Ryan told me yet another complicated story and as he was reaching the
conclusion, my train came…Thus I realized we’d need more time to finish the
story some other day. What I didn’t realize was that this would be another 20
hour bus ride—but instead of going to Bariloche…
No comments:
Post a Comment