Are you from Venezuela or Argentina?

Neither. 

Where are you from?

Guess.

Germany?

No. 

England?

No. 

Canada?

No. 

uhhh....hmmm. the US?

Yep!

Oh.

When you are on a continent that thinks your country sucks, I guess it's alright to not appear to be such a yanqui. 

Especially when I ask what the stereotype of an American is:

Fat.

Ok then. Continuing the process of breaking down stereotypes one international citizen at a time...

Some photos!

Hey! Here are some things I've been up to in the last month. Just a little taste...

This is Plaza de Mayo. It's sort of the focal point of the city. This is during a protest on the anniversary of the Military Coup in 1976. We had the day off for this holiday--to commemorate those who had died/disappeared/were kidnapped during that era. 

Posters during the protest. "Without housing, work

, health, and education, we continue disappearing." This is a reference to those 30,000 "political dissidents" who disappeared in the 70s during the military dictatorship. 

Here is Dad, Ines, and I watching some tango singing and guitar playing. 

This is La Peña de Colorado. They provide guitars and everyone gets rowdy playing folkloric music and performing Gaucho dances. 

This is at a small bar in the neighborhood. Tango music without the showy dancing. good call. 

Venezuela is good for two things: beaches and rum. 

"what you guys don't like Chavez?" 

Ines' fine cooking. Mmmmm. 

Some friends on a Friday night. Or Saturday morning. The weekend schedule here is absolutely absurd. Nobody even goes out until midnight or 1am or 2am....

Here is Esteban with one of the bazillion stray cats that are living the life of luxury in the botanical gardents!

We went to the races! I lost 2 pesos. 
 

This is an extremely relevant picture: it's the used Yerba being thrown away, I'm drinking SO much mate out here. mmmmmmm

Here is Ines and the new kitten, Benito!

¡Que Lindo!

 

This is at a performance by La Bomba del Tiempo, an improvisational drum troupe. Probably the most fun thing I've done so far!

This is the rooftop of the hostel that I stayed at before the program started. It was absolutely phenomenal. 

Hazards, yo.

I'm sheltered. No denying it. With virtually my entire life spent in Boulder...most of what I know about the world I have read, and that doesn't really mean very much. 

So, the freaky things that happen in BA probably aren't all that freaky for people in the rest of the world. Only for sheltered Boulder kids. 

Example. 

The subte at rush hour makes me want to die. I don't like having other people ALL up in my grill like that, and then Javi showed me a video of the subway rush hour in Caracas, Venezuela. 

People LITERALLY could have died trying to get on and off that train, I swear. There were probably twice as many people on the sidewalk waiting to enter than could physically fit on the entire train. The people trying to get out were TRAMPLED by those trying to get in.  I felt silly for getting so perturbed by the BA subte. Oh boohoo somebody is elbowing me. 

Also. 

Traffic here? I would never, ever, ever ride a bike here. (Much less drive..but that's because I don't drive haha). If I had come straight from Boulder and not seen Roman or Neapolitan traffic first, I might be scared to cross the street. Not a lot of attention is paid to lane lines, light changes, pedestrian walks, etc. But, it's NOTHING compared to Italian cities, so it makes me realize that in other parts of the world, it's probably a bazillion times worse. I remember Chris telling me about riding his bike around Rabat, Morocco and at the time I didn't really appreciate what that might look like, but now having spent some time in big cities, I'm glad I didn't know or I would have been worried sick! I bet compared to some of these "developing" parts of the world, Buenos Aires might as well be suburbia. 

And.

We have to unlock the front door to get out of the house. Not only to get in, but to get out. I didn't realize how much of a fire hazard this was until Dad pointed it out. If I am at a friend's house, and he leaves the keys somewhere in the apartment, and the kitchen catches on fire, and I can't find them, I physically won't be able to get out. We have to keep our eyes on those keys. 

And. 

I am convinced that the reason I keep getting sick is because of the pollution. It could be due to the kitten eating cockroaches and then licking my face, but I am pretty certain its the air. Apparently ever visitor from Boulder has independently delivered this same hypothesis to Javi and he thinks we're all lunatics, but I think we just know air quality! Anyway, it's getting to me, and I am really looking forward to some trips out of the city. Argentina has SO much to offer, and I need to jump on it. Pronto. 

Oh and also.

A couple people have been mugged so far. Some in a threatening, late night kind of a way, and some just getting pick-pocketed on buses. I've been lucky/careful. People don't really mess with me because I'm bigger (I haven't met many men with a lot of height on me) and angry looking when I walk around. We try to be unappealing women so gross men don't have any interest. I've also learned that if you are somewhat cavalier with your purse, people will think you don't have anything. If you clutch it, obviously you have something of value. In Italy, I had my Mom's travel wallet hanging across my body under all my clothes. Here, I would feel ridiculous doing that. People get mugged in all cities, but I don't feel a constant threat here. One drunk American film student I met was running around the streets with a big, expensive camera, taking artsy pictures of everything and actually being pretty reckless (running into traffic to get pictures of lights, climbing on top of parked delivery trucks, wearing minimal clothing). John and Javi looked at her in disbelief. "If this was Caracas," Javi told me, "You wouldn't have that camera out for one second before somebody came up to you and said, 'Give me that.' And you'd have to." Nothing happened to that girl. Except maybe a headache in the morning..

But.

I did see the most violent thing I've ever witnessed in my entire life outside my door a couple weeks ago. It appeared to be a young gang and a one sole victim. I've seen that kind of stuff in the movies, but never, ever at such a close proximity. I was sitting in a taxi, yards away. The driver wouldn't let me out until the commotion had settled, thank god. I won't go into details, but it was Gruesome (notice the capital G). I think the Taxi driver seemed to think it was racial. That the victim was Peruvian or indigenous or something. Now I refuse to walk alone at night, even down Corrientes, a busy, well-lit, family friendly avenue. Our new Spanish roommate looked at me like I was crazy when I told her I was going to the movie theater via subway instead of just walking. Ines reminded her that I'm only 19--a baby, really. 

Hmm. Well, maybe I'm a scaredy-cat, but I would prefer not to earn street cred by witnessing any more gang violence. Just not a priority for this trip. 

I shared this story with Americans and they were stunned. I shared it with Latin Americans and they practically patted me on the head. Their expressions half-heartedly said, "mmm, sorry you had to see that." Some responses were stories of incidents MUCH worse witnessed on the streets of other South American cities, and I just thought to myself, "the most threatened I've ever felt in Boulder is when a fox crossed the street in front of me." 

Horrible things happen in the world, and BA has its share of ugliness. But, it's so far from the worst of what's going on out there...But, I just don't really have a lot perspective. 

Some days I think, I'm am going to die in this city!! Seriously, I will!! But, I am a little Boulder bubble baby also...with much to learn about this big world.  

Suerte,

c

acentos, acentos, acentos....

With all the music in my childhood, I always thought I'd developed a pretty decent ear. I thought I was an auditory learner, and in fact, I was convinced I had to be told something out loud to remember it. 

The more and more my ear fails me here the less I believe this. In fact, I now think my ear isactually  pretty mediocre. After being told regularly that I have the worst accent out of a group of gringos (whom I thought sounded absolutely horrendous), I am starting to think maybe I thought a little too highly of my abilities. 

But. It's okay. 

I was really disappointed at first about how weirdly my Spanish is coming along, but when I thought about why I was disappointed, I wondered what is so bad about having an accent? I am actually enamored with my friends at home who speak English with an accent. I was always kind of jealous that they stood out so obviously as people a little bit different, because I think being different is cool. 

Except, apparently, when I am the one who is different. Before my trip, I scoured fashion blogs trying to figure out what Porteños wear. After meeting hordes of Argentine students at a Nuggets/Spurs game, Chris told me I don't look that different from them and I was ecstatic that I might be able to pass for one. I chill with Javi's friends and they ask me if I'm from Argentina or Venezuela (prior to hearing me speak of course), and I beam. But why do I care about these things? Is it really so important to relinquish the traits that make me seem American?

When I walk down the street, of course I don't want to look like I have a "clueless American tourist" stamp on my forehead... for safety reasons. But I wonder, is it less about safety and more about vanity? Am I actually just trying to fit in for the sake of fitting in? Or am I trying to fit in because if I can achieve and Argentine identity it means I'm more capable of true immersion? And what's the deal with immersion anyway? Is it even possible to ever really be immersed in a culture if the culture is cosmopolitan? Imagine a Japanese native with beginner english saying, I want to be immersed in New York City culture in order to understand being American. What does that even mean? Even if that was possible, maintaining what makes us foreign will always get in the way of one hundred percent cultural understanding: childhood experience, sense of humor, daily life's trials and tribulations. 

So, can foreigners actually be immersed??

We can be present in a culture, but I don't think we can become it. There will forever be a barrier. 

We will always, always, always have our roots.

But, we shouldn't want to detach them and go become a new tree somewhere else. That's not sustainable, your roots are who you are and if you bust your ass trying to get rid of them, you are just hurting yourself.  

It especially doesn't make sense for study abroad students to create new cultural identities because we are here to understand, not become. We don't have the time or the need to transform who we are. We just need to become capable of conveying of ideas to and from the culture we study. 

So if I have an accent with elements of Argentine, North American, Mexican, and Russian (don't ask..) with a sprinkle of Venezuelan cuss words, it's okay. I hear Mexican, Argentine, and Venezuelan Spanish the most often. I AM North American,  and as for Russian, well, that's something I can't explain, so we'll just laugh about that one.  

What's not okay is the fact that I don't make any sense when I speak to people. And instead of focusing so much on faking an accent that sounds authentic, I should probably actually deal with content of what I'm saying, and the accent will come later. (or not at all, ain't nothin wrong with the fact that I'm American). It doesn't matter if I can ask for a phone card without an accent. What consequence is there if the employee at the kiosk thinks I'm local? What matters is that I can communicate in sophisticated contexts so I can understand the complexities of culture and language not available to your average tourist. 

Easier said than done?

Besos,

c

"Latin Americans F*** up Countries."

I got to thinking last night in the Irish-themed novelty pub, as John (the venezuelan film student) explained to me the various offenses committed by a number of countries around the world. The more I understood his qualms, the more I thought that the US might actually be a decent remedy for his troubles. He said he had visited Orlando, a small town in Massachusetts, and NYC, and well, didn't really like the US either. It dawned on me how little of the country's culture he had actually seen, even with that amount of visits. 

We began to compare world regions and cultures from the small lenses from which we'd both seem them, and I got some chuckle-worthy insight into Latin Americans' perceptions of their brothers up north.

It should be remembered that the greatest exposure a lot of the world has to America is through our media--Hollywood movies and Pop music, primarily. And since reality TV is, you know, real people, turns out Venezuelans think most American girls act like the girls they see on MTV's The Hills. Evidently, even Venezuelan girls have put on the, like, valley speech, or whatever.

I was about to put John in his place about the difference between what you'll see on TV and what Americans are really like, and it dawned on me...half the girls at my school could be characters on the Hills. And actually probably want to be! 

That got me wondering how accurate a portrayal of the US Hollywood actually provides.

I saw the movie Watchmen here in Buenos Aires. That movie has a lot of US cultural history in it, as it takes place in the 60s and 70s. As the history progresses, musical styles change and culture references are dispersed throughout the movie. One line that stood out to me was after one of the superheros was created, the scientist says on the black and white TV screen: "There is a God, and he's American."

Reading those words as spanish subtitles on the huge screen made me blush. To many of us, that would be a joke. We are not as patriotic (nationalistic) as a country as we've been in the past, so the line felt sort of cheesy and nostalgic. And while I bet many Americans probably wouldn't even get that as irony, I doubt a single Argentino in the theater did. They probably rolled their eyes...yanquis. While most Americans aren't going to make a statement like that in earnest, there are definitely self-righteous Americans who WOULD say something like that...

So if the Hills accurately represents my demographic in the US, am I simply an outlier trying to deny American culture?

John continued to talk to me about how annoying it seems like most American girls are. Oddly, he'd met three girls, including me, from Boulder and they were the only Americans whose company he enjoyed. (such an oasis, this Boulder...). I wanted to refute this stereotype, and as the calculated words were about to come from my mouth, about 3 or 4 female American tourists sat down at the other end of the table and started yammering away like absolute idiots. They were really obnoxious. John made the motion of a backhand in their direction and I laughed. So much for my retort.  

I was starting to feel a little defeated with the boo-America talk, when all of a sudden John says, "I heard the population of Latinos in the US is increasing a lot. Maybe only a 10 years and there will be a Latino president."

I nodded with a smile, there is a huge increase in the Latino population--hooray for American diversity!!

Which is when he drops this bomb:

"That's too bad, Latin Americans f*** up countries." 

I almost spit out my bar peanuts. 

"Excuse me??" 

"It's our culture," He explained, "Latinos ruined Miami. They don't understand that hanging laundry from balconies is ugly. No Latinos understand that nobody wants to see their underwear." He motioned to two Argentine men peeing behind a tree right next to the bar in the upscale neighborhood we were in. "See? look at that. That will be your country." 

John doesn't realize we already have a lot of irresponsible men pissing all over our country. I doubt some latin spices are going to do any more damage. But, it was interesting to hear that culture-hating isn't limited to south-north. There's plenty of self-deprecating citizens of the world as well. 

Maybe universal intolerance will be the new playing field. We can all be hated equally? Even by our own brethren?

I don't know...

I have no conclusion. I just hope all the F***ed-up Latin American countries get it together so we don't have to talk about it like that anymore....

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. 

Quiz Results: You are 18% Shameless Tourist!

I am so much more invigorated by good company in a modest kitchen in the Barrio then I am by collecting snapshots of myself in front of world-famous attractions. 

Today, Javi and I sat in the kitchen for nearly SEVEN hours drinking mate and chatting in spanish (hey-o) about many things, including that mysterious topic of tourism that always seems to be hovering over me in this country. 

Dad had an absolutely incredible visit to BA with a very minimal tourist agenda. He saw Recoleta Cemetery, wandered Puerto Madero, and listened to some Tango, but it was by no means because of a strict adherence to a guidebook's itinerary suggestions. Dad's trip was amazing because he was interested in becoming more intimate with something specific: daily life, food styles, some music, basic spanish. Things that are not out of reach with some local connections and SO much more rewarding in the end. 

Will I be devastated if I come all the way to Argentina and don't see Patagonia? Mendoza? Punto del Este? Igazu Falls? No, no I won't. I guarantee I would have an amazing time in those places, but what moves me more than being able to say, "Hell yeah I went to Patagonia! Yeah I skied! Yeah it was awesome!" is actually feeling like I made an authentic connection with the culture. 

And the path to that is...ding ding ding! The people!! 

I like interesting people more than beautiful places.

Hablamos. 

ASSERTION!!

I'm often fond of subtlety.

in poetry, in fashion, in wit, in spices. 

when I travel, I kind of prefer taking pictures of laundry hanging out to dry than I do national monuments. 

when I'm insulted, I'd rather have it be a puzzle than an obvious broadcast. 

when I go hiking, I'm more satisfied smelling the trees than I am reaching the summit.

....

But there comes a time when the non-confrontational, conflicting-fearing, manner-conscious mediators are not celebrated for the beauty of their oh-so-subtle behaviors, but overlooked as, well, non-existent.

This is what happens in Latin America. You see my friends, while the people here are relaxed and friendly, they don't mess around. Straight shooters, persistent, forward. When there is something to be said, it is said. When they are told by some beat-around-the-bush type, "yeah, i'm not so sure...maybe..I'll think about it...," he might as well have said "WHATEVER YOU WANT."

Some people come to Latin America to chillll. Hammocks, beers, fiestas, what have you. 

But if you are going to chill, you are going to do it in the most blatantly and obviously and everyone will know what's up with you. There's just not a lot of bullshit here*.

*except from taxi drivers. 

This is good for me. It's good for some of the qualities that emerge from us picket-fence Americans on not-so-bold days in the big city: indecisiveness, timidity, shyness, self-consciousness.

(Wait, Caro, you're shy? No te creo, I don't believe you! says the local friend who doesn't know it, but is helping to bring out the fiery latina that I know is in here somewhere).

Latin America is helping me CUT THE CRAP, get to the POINT, say N-O when I mean NO. 

Take PRIDE. sing LOUDLY. JAYWALK!! get OUT. leave the CASA. leave the BARRIO. leave the CAPITAL. learn merengue! or tango?? eat organ meat. INTRODUCE MYSELF. tell the truth. LAY IT ON THE TABLE. do what I gotta do. respond, "si! en serio! soy americana!" Take INITIATIVE. do something kind. PAY ATTENTION. walk with intention. 

 It's hard to imagine when I went to DC with mom, grandma, and aunts julie and chris that I was downright intimidated by the need to hail a cab. 

(woah, woah, woah...stand out in the street and wave your arms so everyone will look at you?? no thanks! I'll just walk on the far side of the sidewalk where nobody will see me...)

Not anymore. There's some authentic boldness in my gait these days and I am starting look forward to nasty cat-calls so I can say, "Che! Te conozco?? Do I know you?? NO!? Enough!" 

Who would have thought I'd be less shy when I'm speaking a language I don't actually know! It's a funny phenomenon. I'm willing to sacrifice some dignity to learn, because you HAVE to. An american girl I met working in a hostel raised her beer glass in the air, and in response to somebody's "here's to us having a great, long night!" she meant to say something to the effect of, "and here's to me being a cranky bitch in the morning!" But, in her not-quite perfect spanish she actually said, "And here's to me being a big slut tonight!" All the locals looked at her incredulously, and quickly corrected her. Then we all died laughing. She was not embarrassed even a little bit, because those are the mistakes that MUST be made to learn. 

Nowadays, in situations where before I might have been nervous about presenting myself to others in some way, I just don't worry. Maybe because now I can always blame my horrible spanish for my awkwardness instead of having to accept that I might just be a straight-up awkward person! 

The point is that it's wonderful to lose stupid fears that hold you back and I hope I can internalize this stuff permanently!!! 

Nos Vemos, Amigos.

caro

(some more perspective)

check out my dad's comment on the previous post for some more stories! 

Pace...

When I think about the concept of study abroad, there are two important reasons to do it that I think most program directors have rendered cliché, but are still a really useful frame of reference: 

1. Promoting understanding between cultures.

2. Positive exchange of ideas. 

The first one I think is especially important as an American. I don't know if you guys heard, but we have a bit of a bad rap around the world these days.... We need to be presenting ourselves as open-minded, educated, and cosmopolitan, and less as a self-absorbed, self-righteous, blindly nationalistic group of bullies. Which, by the way, most of us are NOT, but we seem to viewed that way as a collective. 

So, by immersing ourselves in another culture we are not only able to understand more about the way millions of other people live day-to-day in the world but also give the rest of the world a chance to see Americans in a positive light. Then we can all understand political and cultural situations beyond what national medias and hearsay provide. 

The second reason, to me, has always been about bringing knowledge home. I think it's important to study abroad, or at least travel, to places that are very different from what we already know. Chris' trip to Morocco, Matt's trip to Madagascar, Lyndia's trip to Nepal. These are places with a way of living radically different than the US. It's an amazing opportunity to see what works for others peoples and societies and what doesn't. We then have the power to bring back the positive attitudes and behaviors that maybe Americans lack. I was thinking about this idea today, and how, well, it's kind of selfish. I sort of bumble around Buenos Aires looking for some amazing outlook on life that I can apply to my life at home. But, the more I search for an outlook, the further it seems within my grasp.

 I think it's because I am not looking to give something the same way I expect to take something from this experience. 

What am I talking about? The life the Porteños (those who life in Buenos Aires) is pretty different than American life, and certainly different from Boulder life. But it's not radically different. Both my dad and I have found ourselves extremely comfortable here. Yesterday he said that he knows he is comfortable when he does the same things he would at home: plays his guitar, writes songs, eats good food, cooks chicken wings, visits with friends. Do we just have a different backdrop? 

I'm trying to figure out what is making my adjustment to life here so simple. Is it the fact that I am around Americans so often via program kids? Is it because Inés is a bomb host and makes me feel at home with my own room, wifi, and dulce de leche galore? Or have I not actually adjusted to the different culture and am sitting in a tourist limbo--between novelty maté sessions and tours around Caminito, perhaps I haven't actually fully thrown myself into the thick of it?

I have been proactive in my attempts. Trying to hang out with locals as much as possible. But my dad's trip here sent things on a little different vector as I attempted to show him what I had learned in my first two weeks being here. I sort of had to put language immersion on hold for these two weeks. Next week I will attempt to return to my objective and get talking way, way, way more. 

But. I need to get over the fact that I SHOULD BE LEARNING (and thereby taking something home) at all times. 

This brings me to the title of today's blog. The pace of life here is a phenomenon that I've noticed transcends a lot of daily culture. 

 These are "superficial" cultural observations that are always brought up in conversations with other tourists, but they clearly indicate some element of the local culture.

1. Transportation: 

The subte (subway) can be Tokyo crowded here. Lose your privacy, lose your personal space, sweat balls. Pickpocketing on the subte or colectivo (bus) is common. You can only pay with exact change on the colectivo, and there is a huge shortage of currency due to some poor policies, and now there is mad hoarding of coins. Using precious moneda on the bus better be worth the trip. Oh and if you run out? Good luck getting change. 

2. Food:

So much meat...large quantities, dulce de leche, medialunas (croissants), low prices, vino. 

3. The Schedule: 

Okay, so. Porteños eat dinner between 9 and 11. For weekends, it's fine because you need some energy if you are going to dance until 6am, but it definitely is taking some getting used to. 

Why so late? If you eat lunch at one, you are hungry by 7. 

This is where pace is brought to the equation. Argentinians are not known for punctuality. In fact, for an exact appointment or date, there is a 15 minute buffer for it to actual happen. For something less formal, 15 to 45 minutes is more than acceptable. In a big city with somewhat unpredictable transportation, it makes sense. But in my observations, people also just sort of do what they want, when they want, at the speed they want. So, dinner just sort of happens...eventually. 

This may sound frustrating to you Type A's out there, but I actually fit in very well with this lifestyle. 

In Boulder, I would get up hours before class so that I could bumble around my house, drink my tea slowly, finish up some homework, read the news. I still happened to be AT LEAST ten minutes late every single day last semester. And I was perfectly okay with it. I never seemed to miss anything important and I stopped feeling awkward walking into rooms and having everyone stare at me. So, here, the Argentine habit feels perfectly normal. It makes me think I should have studied somewhere like Germany, so I could learn some discipline!! 

Just kidding, kind of. But that brings me to the issue I am facing. I seem to be under the impression that studying abroad/traveling should be so taxing and radical, that you return with perspective you never would have garnered in your own country nor with your own resources. And the path to that perspective is HARD, rigorous, shocking.

I was latched to this idea of being super-challenged by my semester,  but with a cultural experience, I'm quickly realizing there are no guidelines for how it should affect you. Just because I'm not having a massive culture-shock, doesn't mean I am not learning. Language is a HUGE issue, but it doesn't paralyze me. Big city life is different, but I'm not freaked out. I'm running with the current here in BA and it's not "changing my life" via shock treatment. 

I need to get to the point where I am not desperately seeking something LIFE-CHANGING  because it's never going to happen if all you're doing is pining for some earth-shattering epiphany and not actually living the experience. 

So I need to chill. But not too much. I still have to be conscious, aware, observant. But in a more neutral way. 

And I can keep moving in slow motion and be late to everything!! 

Pops is in BA

It's been a few days since Dad arrived here in the city, and I think he is enamored. 

Ines has been an absolute dream by giving up the other extra room for him to sleep in. She a made bomb carne dinner and has been embracing the wine and music each night.  At first it was really fun for me because I had to translate between Ines and Dad. But because she has decent English, after getting accustomed to his accent, they were able to communicate just fine. Ultimately, that's better, of course, but I sure did enjoy the translating. It forced me to pay more attention to the content of Ines' spanish, since its easy to zone out with so much foreign language being thrown at you. It also gave me more practice in speaking because I needed to formulate my Dad's ideas and humor into coherent spanish thoughts. It was fun. 

The first day here, I had to do a full day of activities with the program, so I had to hand Dad a map and point toward Recoleta. He got to see a lot of the city on his walk, visited the famous cemetery, ate a steak meal at a Restaurant called "Clark's," and took lots of photos of the old F0rd trucks that buzz around the neighborhood. Dad and Ines found a cheap guitar (USD 85) and Dad caused quite a stir in the music shop with all of his old American rock songs. Argentinos LOVE rock music. We visited Palermo yesterday for a fancy lunch and a look at the higher end barrio, and today we'll go to Boca to see that colorful neighborhood you see in all those photos of Buenos Aires. 

Classes begin next week (wait, I'm here to study??) and things are getting real! 

Dollar went up on the peso!

USD$1=ARS$3.61

just in case you were wondering. 

Deep Culture Observation 1

In a presentation by the program staff, we got a very cute drawing of an iceberg and were reminded that there exists two types of cultures relevant to foreigners.

Surface culture: what we see about a people. They way they look physically, how they walk and talk. Accents, clothing styles. Music, dance, crafts. Folky things. 

Then underneath the surface of course, there are the things that really take some effort to discover. What exactly are these unseated gems of cultural relevance?

I have no idea so far, but I've been thinking about it. 

One kid on the program, with an affinity for soccer, brought up the idea of fighting. He noticed when two men chased down a pick pocket, instead of tackling him or socking him in the face, like you might see in the States, they actually slide tackled him and just kicked the crap out of him. 

We started discussing aggression styles on a cultural level. You will fight in ways you your body knows. The US, which seems to have a physical history in sports like boxing, baseball, and football, we would most likely fight with fists, bat-like weapons, and body tackles. Latin America and likely many parts of Europe use soccer tactics--like the angry member of the crowd who headbutted the bouncer outside of the drum show I attended. That is not something you see in the States. 

In the east, where martial arts styles are really popular forms of exercise, I would guess that street fighting has pretty clear roots in karate, etc tactics. 

I'm no expert, but it's an interesting thought. 

I'll let you know what else we come up with.