A day with Angela

Saturday, May 26, 2012

Still lagging from my night that ended at 5:30am, I managed to get myself up for my shopping date with Angela. We went to her favorite outlet, Libra Latina, where I picked up 2 cardigans, because apparently I’m all about cardigans here. I’ve bought 4 since my arrival. I’m compensating for not having brought a sweatshirt...On a highly vain note, I also decided I’m sick of my personal style because I only have the wardrobe I brought with me (and half of it doesn’t even really work anymore because it’s winter) and despite how much shopping I’ve done, I really haven’t bought that many clothes because Buenos Aires is pretty expensive and if you go too cheap, the quality shows. Or it’s the case where I’ve bought something really cute (fairy princess skirt from Zara) and I can’t wear it because I feel weird being dressed up but then having wet hair because it takes about 30 minutes to fully blowdry my hair. I just don’t feel like I look like myself here. Yeah, yeah, there’s a lot to be said about going all natural and I appreciate not having to spend time doing my hair and makeup (even though it doesn’t take me that much time anyway), but I feel better when I am more confident about my appearance. Maybe that makes me vain, but I don’t like my noodly brown hair and bushy eyebrows. But there’s nothing I can do about it. I am really anxious to come home and look like me again.

But alas, I digress. And while I complained about my personal style and appearance, Angela assured me there was nothing awry, meanwhile, I did the same for her. Confirming that indeed, I am my own worst critic.

Not finding anything cute nor affordable, we passed by a cafe and stopped for a coffee. And despite all the traveling I’ve done, I can’t help but feel like my cafe dates are still the best part of being in here. You can talk for hours about anything and nobody is rushing you to get out—not to mention my love of submarinos...Perhaps the pivotal moment of this conversation was when we both realized how much we love cereal and how much meaning there actually is in cereal: the plot where you tell yourself it’s OK to keep pouring bowls of Kix because the milk to cereal ratio is never right, so you have to “correct it” by pouring more of each...the conversation culminated in a topic very personal for me: Team Cheerios. What happened to them, and when are they coming back? But Angela pointed out I could just make my own Team Cheerios by mixing honey nut, frosted and multi grain Cheerios. THIS WOMAN IS A GENIUS. How did I never realize this? A moment of pure friendship as we laughed and laughed about cereal. Argentina has excellent food, but it’s got nothing on cereal.  

Afterwards we realized we were kind of close to Plaza Serrano, and still feeling in the mood for shopping we walked up to our favorite feria where I laid eyes on the coolest mate ever. I literally had to deliberate for 20 minutes because I liked all of the designs, but I finally settled on this one:

Now I must drink some mate to keep myself alive.

La Bomba de Tiempo

Friday, May 25^th, 2012

After being here for almost 4 months, I was a little embarrassed that I hadn’t gone to La Bomba de Tiempo yet because it’s one of the top shows in BA. Also, after weeks of feeling too tired to go out, I pulled it together to meet up with my Mendoza buddies. 

I left my house around midnight and arrived just before 1am. I only had to walk 3 blocks from the bus stop to the Konex center but those 3 blocks were undoubtedly a little scary, being that I hadn’t met up with my friends yet. The streets leading up to it are completely trashed in every sense of the word and every step I started walking faster until I heard the noise and saw the crowd waiting in line. $50 later, I made it in and began my search for my friends. In typical study abroad student manner, nobody answered their phone nor responded to any texts so I was standing in the Konex center by myself watching everybody else in their groups of friends having fun, feeling like a huge loser. Finally I ran into Tyler, who luckily still recognized me despite Mendoza having been well over a month ago. They too were on the hunt for Persky. Alright, well I at least had people to talk to. Finally we encountered the rest of the group (none of whom I’d ever met) and I started to get that “I really wish I weren’t here right now” feeling because as the drumming kicked in, so did the drugs, and being that I was compeltely sober, the acid trips starting around me were on a level I couldn’t really fathom. It’s not to say it wasn’t fun, but no había nada que ver entre yo y ellos. So uncomfortable, with people I hardly knew, I started to make my way to the exit because while the drumming was great, other than the high goons around me, nobody else was really getting into the music. How do you just stand there during a percussion concert!? Not to mention that the drummers were total animals. It’s a show just watching their hands and movements. So if you don’t mind going crazy dancing, you’ll enjoy it. Also, the people watching is great. Almost made me think of Seattle at times...

On my way out, I saw some people from my classes and they asked if I was leaving. Not wanting to look like a loser, I played it off like I had gotten separated from my group. I figured I’d at least hang out with them for a bit and see if I had a better time. I was actually having a conversation and dancing out in the open air, so I started to enjoy myself again. I met a guy who could actually dance but felt bad when I had to drop the whole “you’re a great dancer, but I have a boyfriend” line, but regardless we kept dancing at a friendly distance and I had someone to wait with me at the creepy bus stop. You gotta give the guy some credit. Shot down, and was still a gentleman. 

Despite wanting to leave around 2, I didn’t get home until 5:30, reeking of cigarettes and I felt like my eyes were bleeding. I have never been so happy to crawl into bed in my life.

There are no hot dogs--but there is choripan!

Friday, May 25^th, 2012

Feliz día de la revolución! This is basically the Argie independence day and although I’m really hoping for fireworks, hot dogs and watermelon, it’s actually a cold day with no sparklers in sight. But I’ve got my big bow in my hair to show my non-native pride and getting honked at more than ever by the taxistas who are also showing their pride too. To celebrate, we were told there would be a big celebration at la feria de los mataderos, which is pretty much as far away from my house as I can get. It’s still in Buenos Aires, but at the very fringe of the city and the buses (yes, plural) to get there had to pass through the provincial Buenos Aires outskirts…I really hope this is an awesome feria…

I hailed the 161 not really knowing where I was going, but only that I was at least going in the right direction. This bus ride was supposed to be about an hour which kinda freaked me out, because after 30 minutes I start getting paranoid about where my stop is and if we’re passing it or not—even when I am looking directly at the map. Not to mention everybody gave me the eye when they walked past me—“what’s SHE doing on this bus?!?”

60 long, stressful and kinda paranoid minutes later, I was waiting for the 80 on a really sketchy corner and even though it was broad daylight, this was definitely a different part of BA and I clearly stood out. Luckily I didn’t have to wait long and had a little more confidence as this was a shorter bus ride. I finally arrived at the feria and started walking around as I looked for Angela. WHAT!? I took an hour and a half bus ride for THIS!? It looked like a garage sale, the kind that you’d drive past. I finally got a hold of Angela who told me to keep on walking to get to the real stuff. Ok, that’s more like it.

I met her on the corner where there was a bar notable (duly noted!) and we browsed the whole feria as I managed to keep my purchases to a minimum only buying a necklace, though the fair had a lot to offer. Being that we were hungry and didn’t want to wait in the choripan line, we went back to the bar notable where we somehow managed to score a seat. Unfortunately the bar was a little run down, but the tango stage suggested it was still alive in spirit. Submarino in hand, we enjoyed the warmth of the café and the murmurs of porteños.

When my salad came, the only dressing was the classic oil and vinegar, but it’s not balsamic vinegar and this vinegar ruins the salad, IMHO, so I decided I was going to have to take the salt route. Jokingly and a little too loudly I exclaimed “Soy argentina!” (“I’m Argentine!”) because they’re known to put way too much salt on everything, even things that you wouldn’t typically put salt on or that already have salt in them. The family sitting next to us glanced over at me and started laughing because I am clearly not argentine, but when I gestured to the salt and motioned that I was pouring a lot of it, they laughed, indicating “yeah, we do do that!”.

Deciding we’d seen the best of the fair, we started the long trek home, this time taking the 55. Which was of course packed when we got on. I was exhausted for some reason and was actually about to fall asleep on the bus. Thus preventing me from making my way down to the Plaza de Mayo to see another celebration. The cool thing was that on the bus I felt like we were going on streets I knew, but in ways I hadn’t seen before and I thought of an idea for later—to ride random buses just for the view and to get better acquainted with the city because even after several months here, I’m still discovering pockets of BA I didn’t even know about. This city is endless, despite its very well defined borders (that I crossed today!).

An Afternoon in Paradise

Sunday, May 20^th, 2012

Once again, we were off on another bus and on our way to the Jesuit mission ruins of San Ignacio from the 1600s. They were designed for the Guaraníes to “civilize” them and of course introduce them to the best thing ever! Western religion!!! Not. The ruins are beautiful, but represent something that should be decaying. I’m not saying I want to live the Guaraní lifestyle, but I’m sure they wanted to live that way. The Jesuits at least allowed them to be educated and didn’t just slaughter them as the future waves of Europeans did, but still they started the subjugation trend—although the Spanish crown later denied their presence because they weren’t subjugating them enough…but enough about my anti-colonial musings.

My camera battery managed to run out just as we arrived, so I was unable to document the beauty and vivid red stones that made up the ruins other than this:

Being that European history/religion are my least favorite topics, I paid little attention during the tour and focused on the sights. And even though it was extraordinary, I was kind of up and at it to head out to our next chunk of paradise at La Chacrita, which is a mate and tea plantation that also has accommodations for travelers, as well as an endless supply of citrus, tea, relaxation and trees. It was here that I had a true “I don’t want to leave. Ever.” moment. I fell in love with Argentina again that day and could only wonder if things like this are hiding amongst the trees, what else in the world is…? 

Our bubbly tour guide showing us the proper mate technique

Thank god Melanie had an extra camera battery so I could even attempt to capture the beauty. But once again, no camera setting would really do for how incredible everything was. As for how it sounded--it was like listening to earth breathing. Even walking away from the main house area for one minute and I was in my own space, free from any single other person or stressor on earth. Plus, knowing I was surrounded by my two favorite beverages (tea and mate) (and some cacti peppered in the aisles too) made me feel even more at peace. It was nirvana simply by existing in this space.

Iguazú falls

Saturday, May 19^th, 2012

Really, I can’t even describe Iguazú falls, so here’s some photos because if you can’t see them in person and feel the mist and the heat, a description means nothing.

 Not even at the falls' best viewpoint yet...

 World's cutest animal: the coati--guard your snacks!!

 Hello waterfall!

 La garganta del diablo--picture does it no justice

Perfect day

But something stopped me from ever shutting my eyes—the scenery. Trees were rushing by at more than 100 kmph in the slowly setting rays of the sun so I couldn’t really ever capture a great photo, but for the next 3 hours, I felt like I was staring into one of the best kept secrets on earth. I wanted to run off the bus and just keep running into the infinite landscape of every tree imaginable. Every hill was a new surprise and when we turned every cover, it was like pulling back more wrapping paper into the view. It was the definition of nature, tranquility and landscape. Maybe it even rivaled the falls…

After sundown, I was totally passed out and starving (doesn’t matter where you are—you’re still human). We showed up just a little late for dinner and the only seats left were with our program staff, but being that they’re 2 20-something porteñas, it was actually probably one of the best seats. I’ve been really impressed with how personable the staff at ISA is. I don’t wanna sound like a commercial, but the staff is great. In addition to helping us with our grammar, we were cracking jokes, calling each other fat and reveling in all that it is to share food with people in the Spanish-speaking world. Eating in the US is just pathetic compared to this. 

Mission: Misiones

Friday, May 18^th, 2012

I rushed down the stairs, PB&J in hand to meet everyone else in our 6am cab that normally would be taking to come home at this hour, but we were on our way to Aeroparque Jorge Newbery (or as Angela’s host mom calls it, Jorge Neeeeeeeeuuuuberyyyyyyyy) for our trip to Iguazú. For those of you that don’t know, Puerto de Iguazú is the home to Iguazú falls, which happen to fall right on the border between Brazil and Argentina. But more on those later. First I had to get on the plane.

But before every traveler gets to their destination, they have to go through the increasingly hassling task of actually traveling. I’ve had pretty good luck when it comes to traveling, but the travel gods were especially smiling down on me for this trip because not only are liquids TOTALLY ALLOWED on flights in Argentina (because I’m willing to bet that the terrorist threat isn’t at flaming red omg we’re all going to die level. It’s at ZFWBG level. Because Argentina gives none). And then a miracle happened:

Nobody was in my seat. And given that I have never woken up at 5am by my own accord, I took all that sweet space for the best airplane nap ever had.

Luckily I woke up in time to see just exactly what we were flying over. I didn’t think any place on earth could actually be this beautiful. There were trees for as far as the eye could see and red soil in between. We’re flying to paradise.

After getting off the plane, I realized that my paradise idea wasn’t too far off—it was perfectly hot and on our drive into town, it felt like for the first time ever we were in “real Latin America” with countless palm trees, bright colors, laundry blowing in the breeze and a carefree air about everything. We had a bit of time to grab a bite to eat, but it seemed like it was siesta time with every store having its shutters closed.

After lunch, we went to a Guaraní village not too far out of town. I had mixed feelings about this part of the trip because there’s a fine line between “experiencing” and learning about another culture and then just intruding upon it and staring at it and its people. We were somewhere in between the two, with me leaning towards “borderline uncomfortable”. The Guaraní traditionally tried to keep themselves separate from the society growing around them, but in this day and age they no longer have the option and are somewhat forced to host tourists in order to generate funds to purchase food and supplies that they can no longer depend on the forests for. It’s the classic case of civilization destroying civilization. Our guide told us to forgive him for his Spanish, because he was still learning too. Traditionally, none of the Guaraníes learned Spanish, and for a while it was forbidden for females to learn, but now everybody receives instruction in the bi-lingual school. Guaraní is a prized language, known for its beauty, and the unique feature of being an oral language, meaning there are no books or texts of Guaraní, although they have since been created by scholars in order to document the language that is slowly losing out to Spanish. But this is difficult as some sounds are of course different, as well as the fact that it’s just not traditionally written.

Our tour comprised of a walk in the “jungle” to see the traps that were traditionally used (and still used today, although with less frequency due to the continually smaller amount of critters roaming around in said jungle). All of them were so ingenious! When we approached a new trap we had to guess how to use it and what animal it was for. I had no idea on any of them, but all of them worked like a charm. Nobody likes to think of cute little jungle animals getting killed and eaten, but for the most part, the killings were about as humane as possible and compared to the way the “civilized world” kills animals, I think we’d be better off following this example.

Afterwards, we were treated to some music from the school choir. Again, keep in mind the language is not written, so all of the songs had to be memorized by hearing them enough times. Talk about oral tradition. While it wasn’t necessarily lyrical music, it was definitely catchygot to go “shopping” for Guaraní handicrafts. This is one of their major fundraising efforts. I hated thinking that going shopping was going to help the Guaraníes, because isn’t that what kind of put them in the margin in the first place?

I tried to not let my anti-capitalism thoughts get too pervasive, however, as we were on our way out of the village to see the 2^nd best view in the area (with the 1^st being at the falls). It was where the rivers met between Brazil, Paraguay and Argentina. Anytime I’m in a moment of pure geography, I love it—and it doesn’t get much more geographic than being at the border of 3 countries staring at overflowing foliage practically spilling into the rivers sizzling with mist as the sun is setting. But with the sun setting, that meant the day was already over and I was proven wrong again—time CAN go faster. As we walked back to the hotel, I was mocking the birds overhead and gave the longest, loudest r-roll ever (because, keep in mind, until February, I didn’t actually have this linguistic ability…). I never want to leave this place. It makes me feel alive.