I got my new shoes on!

Yesterday, I finally got the "i'm going to college in Argentina" vibe when I walked out of the apartment towards the B-line subte. I was going to the Universidad de Buenos Aires (UBA), the large public university in the city. So far the classes I have visited were at la Facultad Latinoamerica de Ciencias Sociales (FLACSO), which is the graduate school that our study abroad program is partnering with. All of the students in my FLACSO classes are Americans on my program. I also checked out a few at the Universidad Católica de Argentina (UCA), which is a Daddy's money kind of a private school. The school's restroom signs have stick figures in the shape of crucifixes and you aren't allowed to wear rubber flip flops. May not really sound like my style but all the students there were cute and amicable, and the fashion I saw was pretty sweet. However, all the classes I took ONLY had foreigners in them because it was through an international program. As cool as it is meeting other Americans in Argentina, I really want to see a legit college classroom here. 

So yesterday, I was trying out something different. 

I was so stoked getting onto the Subte in order to go to UBA. Finally, my first day of school jitters! Part of my excitement was due to the fact that I wasn't actually supposed to be taking classes there. Because I had only passed into a low level of spanish, they didn't recommend I direct enroll with locals--I probably can't handle it. But, if I came all the way to South America to study with South Americans, I'm going to study with South Americans!!! So, I enrolled anyway. 

As I walked down the street, I was going over the various ways I could start conversation with locals when I got to class. I was interrupted by a blonde girl with a North American accent ask me in spanish if I was going to the Mejias building. I responded affirmatively and she asked me what study abroad program I was on. Shoot, I thought. Called out already? We began to chat and realized we were going to the same class. I began to wonder how many extranjeros (foreigners) would be joining us. 

Then, I saw it. What appeared to be outdated protest signs with peeling paint covered the side of a huge gray building. I peered into a window and saw students bustling about, relaxed, but with purpose. This was no UCA. I had gotten used to the marble-esque staircase, freshly painted walls, and river port back drop of the private school. I was now facing political protest graffiti from floor to ceiling, broken desks, dim lights, and young Argentine activists that regularly spoke like they were talking into a megaphone. 

Welcome to public school, I thought.

I was in love. 

My class was called Transition, Crisis, and Reform: The New Scenarios in Latin America. It was a fairly small class, but after a couple minutes of chatting with my new friend from Indiana, a crew of three other FLACSO kids entered the classroom. They were my friends, but I was surprised to see them. I thought this was supposed to be authentic Buenos Aires. It wasn't until the end of the class when the TA asked how many foreign kids were there and I realized almost 2/3 of the class weren't from Argentina. I almost choked. 

But as my friends and I headed to the photocopy store to get our readings after class, I was overwhelmed by the hordes of (Argentine) students crowding the halls, the papers being flung around, the chorus of spanish slang words, and the art of it all. I decided having a couple English speaking friends as support in a tough class is no tragedy, and just being in that building gives me exposure. 

So, I got over myself. Look forward to next week, Prof.