Thanks to those good people out there!

A few weeks ago I took a mini vacation to a small coastal city 5 hours away called Mar del Plata. There was an annual film festival happening, plus beach! We went as a group of four (Pablo, Eliana, Yanina and myself) and hoped to stay with someone using CouchSurfing. Pablo emailed a few Mar del Platanos (that’s not what they're called, I just think it sounds cute), and one “Leonardo Something-Italian-That-Sounds-Very-Much-Like-Dicaprio” responded. He offered Pablo and our crew an entire empty apartment for free!! This wasn’t a joke and there was no catch. We got a fully furnished apartment with four beds four blocks from the beach for free for five days. Not only that but this Leonardo D took us out on a boat with his family, then to a big barbeque. On our last day he took us on a driving tour around the city and schlepped us to the train station. Incredible generosity!

It was wonderful to get out of the city for a little while and take in some great big waves and a few foreign films.

While waiting on line for one of the films, someone in our group befriended a local guy named Cristian who became our buddy for the next few days. An artist, Cristian’s first gallery show had just opened and he took us after hours and showed us his work. For months I had been on the market to buy a small original piece of art for my professor Alice Benston who lost her husband George this past year. Alice, one of my favorite people in the world, and her husband were together great supporters of arts of all kinds and their home is nothing less than a museum. I told Cristian the story of Alice and George and asked what he’d charge for a small painting. He liked the story so much that he insisted on making something original with her in mind! The next night we met up again and he brought me a finished black and white ink painting for Alice.




As many of you know, Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday! I love the idea of getting together to actively give thanks. For me it often offers something of a New Year which I use to appreciate what I have rather than think about all the things I’d like to change. I decided months ago that I wanted to share Thanksgiving with all my international friends. With tons of help from Pablo, Laura, and others, a great feast came together! We had over 15 guests and A LOT of food. Though a turkey could not be obtained, we made some delicious chickens with apple pecan stuffing and real gravy. Others brought killer pumpkin pies, sweet potatoes, salads, desserts, homemade sangria… we had a mix of friends, students, friends of friends, Americans, Argentines, Bolivians, Kiwis, Germans, French… I think everyone really enjoyed it. I know I did. Still I’m really looking forward to an Thanksgiving with the Mindess/Sugarman clans next year :)

Polo & Pride

Last month I was blessed with a visit from my little sister! She came for a week and a half, during which time I think she got a pretty good taste of Buenos Aires. Perhaps “taste” is the wrong word, seeing as we’re two non-meat-eaters in steakland and mostly subsisted on mediocre pizza… but cuisine aside we found plenty of adventures. The most notable of which was a failed attempt at seeing a polo match. Katie’s a horse lover, and Argentina apparently rocks at Polo, so we made it a priority to get to a game. We took a bus an hour outside the city and ended up at a suburban shopping center after discovering far too late that the bus driver had broken his promise to tell us when to get off. When I called him out on it he gave me a look like, "did you actually expect me to do it just cause I said I would??" At first I thought we’d never make it in time, but luckily all morning I was in some strange time warp and thought it was an hour later than it actually was and planned our trip accordingly. The shopping center turned out to be delightful and we got a taxi ordered up by the information desk, getting us to the Tortuga Country Club with time to spare. It’s quite a fantasy land in there. Perfectly manicured grass, foreign cars, and giant Rolex advertisements abound. For our 50 peso tickets we saw some players warming up, but this turned out to be our only glimpse of anything polo-esque that day. A minute before game time, marching band in full swing, the sky broke. The rain came down like the bottom had fallen out of a swimming pool in the sky above us. The crowd, 100% drowned rats within 10 seconds, dove under the bleachers. After a few minutes of lightening we began to realize that this wasn’t going to suffice. Everyone else made a break for their German car in the parking lot, but we were out of luck in that department. The cab had driven us into the club, and we remembered driving down a loooong dirt road to get to the stadium. Just as this reality struck, so did something very hard that came from the sky. That was ice. Now we were being pelted with hail. We ran down the road yelping like we were being stoned, which is what it felt like. We were nearly struck down by a parade of silver and champagne-colored vehicles, obviously driven by people with no sympathy for the two lone soggies on foot. Finally we reached the bus stop, and to our delight, a bus showed up right away. Now remember way back to one of my first blogs where I mentioned the moneda problem? Well it turns out that in order to take the bus that far, you don’t just need a peso in change, you need five. We didn't know this because we'd purchased our tickets for the way there in advance. The bus driver looked me in my muddy eyes and coldly informed me that my ten peso paper bill was worthless to him. And with that we were kicked back out onto the now lake-like street. When we finally got back to the entrance of the club, the guards initially informed us that they had no way of getting us a cab. We persisted, and somehow the means presented itself. We waited at the guard booth for awhile, at this point resembling slugs newly emerged from the earth after a good spring rain. Mercedes after Lexus after BMW passed us by. Finally we got our cab, which we paid dearly for, endured tons of traffic and a commentary by the driver about the appeal of wet women, and made it back to my building. We sprinted inside but were stopped by the doorman and his buddy standing in the foyer, obviously wanting to know what the hell happened to us. I explained quickly, while making clear movements towards the elevator. No such luck. The old man was dead set on telling us about the history of horses in Argentina. Beyond that I have no idea what he said, except that he made lots of hand gestures and laughed heartily to himself while we stood there obviously on the brink of pneumonia, unable to get past him for a good 15 or 20 minutes. And then… well, eventually we did and we got dry and survived and all that boring stuff.






With my dear friend Eliana on Halloween. We sewed ourselves into sheets from 11pm-2am and then hit the party! Typical Buenos Aires.

Following the departure of my sis, my life has been more or less consumed by the election. Obama’s Latin American Field Organizer chose Buenos Aires as his base, and so I had the opportunity to spend a good bit of time volunteering for him. Though I generally detest phone banking, I found this particular project very rewarding and worthwhile. We called only US citizens living abroad who had signed up for Democrats Abroad to help them with the (CONFUSING) absentee voting process. I made a lot of calls and I literally encountered nothing but support. Everyone sounded thrilled to be included in the process. And most importantly, a lot of them really did need help. For example, there is a law that says that any absentee ballot ordered to an address outside of the US must be post-marked from outside of the US. However, NOWHERE on the materials received by absentee voters does it say this. So after many people proudly told me that they had sent their ballot weeks ago with someone traveling back to the states, I had to inform them that this ballot wouldn’t count. You can imagine the dismay I encountered. Luckily they had recourse in the form of the emergency ballot, and still had time. But I find it totally absurd that we just leave these details out in a process this important! Needless to say, like many, my spirits are flying high after Tuesday night. I feel fortunate to have witnessed this monumental event from this outside vantage point. Over the last months I’ve spoken with many individuals from all over the world who really wanted to give the USA a chance to redeem itself. I’ve seen so much goodwill despite the giant missteps of the last 8 years. Many international friends stood by my side as I cheered on Barack Obama’s historic victory in a bar packed with hundreds and hundreds of people. During his acceptance speech the room was a sea of grinning, crying faces riveted to the screen. If only I hadn’t lost my camera, I’d share the pictures :/
I realize that I’m not going to say anything new about this election, but I will just say this: I hope everyone can enjoy the moment. Even if you didn’t vote for him, perhaps you can take this opportunity to put your disagreements aside and relish in the hope this choice represents. We have broken down a giant symbolic barrier that has stood in front of US citizens as well as so many citizens of the planet Earth. This president was chosen by the people. If the biggest political machine always wins, then Hillary Clinton would have been fighting this race against McCain. But the young voters in our country said, “No, you’re not just going to chose for us ahead of time. We won’t accept that this is a lock. We want to offer a different choice and we won’t be lazy about convincing you all of its validity.” We worked hard, and it worked! Think of the message that sends. That massive movement actually worked—democracy can work. I’m not naïve (ok well maybe I’m a bit naïve…) I do realize Obama has a giant mess to clean up and will never be able to do everything on his agenda. But I believe sincerely that there are a range of policies that can work, and the best we can do is chose someone with our basic values, a nuanced intelligence, depth of thought, perseverance, and a level head. Someone who does not buckle under pressure, and makes measured decisions. Someone who communicates and has the capacity to repair the decimated international relationships left behind by the last administration. For me, the monumental significance of electing a black man holds weight because the aforementioned qualities also make him the best man for the job. His election doesn’t say, “we’ve taken affirmative action to the highest office in the land” but rather, “we aren’t afraid to acknowledge the capabilities of all citizens of our great nation, and we won’t squander the best based on institutionalized prejudices and fear.” So whatever your political bent, I hope you can take some pleasure this moment in history, because it is a hopeful moment. (Most of) the rest of the world certainly sees it that way. And though it may or may not fix our economy, it is in many other vital senses--I’ll even venture to say farther-reaching ones--a restorative moment.

A Quick, and very Argentine, Anecdote

Just a quick story that I think illustrates Argentine M.O.:

Last night I went to a birthday party at a bar. This bar, like every other, has a "happy hour." If you arrive at a certain time you can get drink deals, like 2 of the same beer for the price of 1. We all ordered our first beers, but when the waitress came back and handed me the wrong one. I said, "Oh, I actually ordered a Warsteiner, not a Budweiser." She actually looked apologetic and ready to take it away and bring back the correct one, but I noticed that the bottle was already opened and would be wasted. I said, "Oh, you know what, it's ok. I don't mind drinking that one since it's opened." She smiled and thanked me. When the time came to order the second round, I said, "Warsteiner please." And she replied, "Oh no, you can only get 2 of the same kind of beer."
"Well," I explained, "Remember I had order a Warsteiner to begin with and you brought me a Budweiser by mistake? Well now I'd like to switch to the one I wanted."
"No, I'm sorry I can't do that. You have to stick to the same kind or I can't give you one for free." And with that she trotted off and brought me back an opened Budweiser.

PERU

It feels like a long time ago now that I got back from my 2 weeks in Peru! I will try to concisely summarize:

... let us begin with Miriam. I met Miriam (a fellow American) on my birthright trip to Israel in January. I invited to her to come visit me when I moved to Buenos Aires, and she actually did! For that Miriam wins lots of points. She came to BsAs for a few days, and then we spent 10 traveling in Peru (I stayed another 3 after she left). Mimo n' Me in Israel

We took separate flights from Buenos Aires to Lima, planned to meet in the airport, stay over in Lima, and then fly to the city of Cusco early in the morning. In my last blog I mentioned the website CouchSurfing, which can be used to find free places to stay anywhere in the world. Thinking we needed to spend the night in Lima, I contacted "Ulises" on this site and asked if we could crash. Not only did he say yes, but he also told me to send him our flight info and he would pick us up at the airport. In my usual fashion, I didn't really think through the reality of the situation: 1) Miriam and I were on 2 different flights. Mine got in at 9pm and hers at 11. 2) Our flight to Cusco left at 6 am, meaning we had to be back at the airport at 4, so there was actually no point in leaving the airport at all. None of this crossed my mind when I sent Ulises a quick email saying we were arriving at 9, and a ride would be great! Also true to my usual form, I sent him the WRONG itinerary. The flight info he received didn't even correspond with the date or the destination cities I had cited to him. It wasn't until Miriam and I arrived at the airport in BsAs the it occurred to me just how poorly I had communicated with this poor man. But it was too late. I convinced myself that he would look at the non-sensical itinerary I sent and conclude that there was no way to find us, assume we would find a hotel, and go about his life as usual. So imagine my surprise when I'm waiting for Miriam (now it's almost 12) in Lima and I get a tap on the shoulder. "Danielle?" I look up to see a smiling Peruvian man and and young woman. Baffled, I asked how they found me. As it turned out, Ulises did not give up as easily as I had assumed (and hoped). They had initially come to the airport at 9, like I had said, looking for a girl resembling the photos of myself I had posted on the website. No luck. They then left and came back to greet the next flight coming from Buenos Aires, at which time they finally spotted me waiting with my giant hikers pack. Stunned at their tremendous effort we thanked them profusely and suggested we all hang out for a bit in the airport (since at this point it was midnight and there was no point at all in going back to his house to sleep before flight #2). Ulises and his friend, an Israeli girl, agreed, smiles still plastered on their kind faces. Never once did they seem the slightest bit perturbed by the evening's events.

My level of planning around our night in Lima was about par for the course for the rest of the trip. We pretty much arrived having no idea where we were going or what we were doing. As it turns out, when you only have 10 days to travel in a very large and fairly disorganized country, planning really makes a lot of sense. All we knew was that we were going to start out in Cusco and from there, make our way to Machu Picchu. We learned the hard way that just hopping over to Machu Picchu isn't as easy as it sounds. Because of this, we ended up spending 3 days in Cusco and many many hours in internet cafes trying to determine a way out. Cusco was a tough city for me. It's lovely, but very very, I mean very, touristy. There is this bizarre feeling of "us" and "them" between tourists and locals. Mostly I just felt like people were trying to take as much money from me as possible and nothing much more. At the same time, many of the tourists were rude and demanding to the locals, and I can understand why, over time, neither group would have much respect for the other. The whole thing just felt so ugly. It certainly felt like a whole different world after the warm welcome I received Buenos Aires.
Among the 1st on the top of Hyuana Picchu that morning. In the clouds!
Machu Picchu up close.
More MP.

A highlight of our time with Cusco was meeting up with T Brian Green and Lindsey!! (Two of my great friends from Atlanta). We coordinated our Peru trips to overlap a bit and we got to enjoy a dinner and a breakfast together. After 5 months away, it was AWESOME to see them.
With Mimo, Lindsey and Brian in Cusco.

Finally we did make it to Machu Picchu, which is of course spectacular, but also absolutely jam packed with people. It's a little tough to feel serene there for even one moment. Thankfully, we got a superb tip from one Jed Holtzman who recommended a hike which seems to be largely undiscovered. It's hard to imagine why; it's a gorgeous climb through Peruvian cloud forest, and at the end you get a perfect view of Machu Picchu. This was one of the best things we did for sure! (Pics below)
Climbing Putucusi. That's vertical.
Machu Picchu from the top of Putucusi. Not bad, eh?

Having only a few days left before Miriam's flight out of Lima, we decided to stop in the city of Ica for a few days on our way back to Lima. There's really nothing to do in Ica, but we read that there is a small lagoon-side "resort" nearby which acts as a hub for the region's 2 main tourist attractions--wineries and giant dunes. As it turns out, the lagoon is basically a pond, and the resort a conglomeration of a few hostels and touristy restaurants. I'm realizing as I write this that I'm doing an awful lot of complaining. The truth is that all along, Miriam and I were really have a lot of fun. I just want to make that clear. Anyway, in Huacachina (lagoonville), we booked a day of winery tours, and a day of "sandboarding." First the wine tour. We got a personal driver, Walter (pronounced Wal-tehrrr) to take us from one "bodega" to another. There we got little tours of the facilities and wine tastings. At our second bodega our guide Jesus gave our whole tour in English, using impressively technical terminology. He would end every section by robotically asking, "Any questions?" Luckily we didn't have too many, because as it turned out Jesus had a memorized script and outside of that you couldn't really call him an English speaker. If we said, "Yes, I have a question. How many days do the grapes have to ferment?", Sweet Jesus would look at us blankly like, "Do you really expect me to understand what you're saying? You're speaking to me in a foreign language!" After that second tour Jesus and Walter invited us out with them. Now off the clock, Walter drove the three of us all around town. They brought us to a 3rd winery, a restaurant, and the same bar 3 times (we kept trying to go somewhere else, but finally realized that elsewhere didn't exist).
Doing some hardcore paddle-boating on la laguna.
Walter, Mimo and Jesus at the after hours wine tasting.

The second day in Huacachina we went sandboarding in the "dunes." These dunes are literally mountains made of sand. They are HUGE. Sandboarding is basically snowboarding on sand. To get to up to the top you have 2 choices, climb the dunes yourself or take a dune buggy. (Below is a photo of the buggies). You get in these buggies with 8 or so people and the drivers do their very best to scare the shit out of you. It is sincerely terrifying. They go flying over the tops of these mountains and you really almost go flying out of your seat. I was scared beyond belief. Miriam was scared beyond her body's ability to function. When we got off after the first round, she could no longer move her hands or face. Her mouth was a permanent O shape and her hands looked like lobster claws for about 20 minutes. I wanted to be a good sympathetic friend, but instead I laughed so uncontrollably I could barely stand. I also dubbed her Leonardo. If you get that reference, great, if not, I'm not so un-PC as to spell it out :) Below is a photo for your enjoyment. After the day of duning our buggy driver, also named Jesus, invited us all to go out together. We went to the same bar we had been to 3 times the night before with Walter and Jesus 1. I had an interesting conversation with Jesus 2 about his perception of the tourism in Peru. He told me that he thinks the tourists come from more advanced societies and the locals ought to try to learn from them. That's why he invites his groups to go out--so that he can talk with folks and try to learn something. I wasn't sure what to think of that, but there you have it. In reality, it wasn't much of a cultural exchange at all since I was the only one who could speak to him. Nobody else spoke Spanish, so they sat at the other end of the table speaking English amongst themselves and basically ignoring him and his Peruvian friend completely.
Miriam Leonardo.
Deathbuggies.
The dunes.
At sunset. Pretty spectacular.
Post-boarding.


After spending a day together in Lima, Mimo and I parted ways-- she was to catch a flight to the states the next day, and I headed off to spend my last 3 days in the city of Huaraz. Huaraz is mas tranquilo. Surrounded on all sides by snow capped mountains, it's a haven for climbers and trekkers. The second day I went on a day hike. For the 1st half it seemed moderately challenging and I was enjoying myself, but about halfway up I realized that I was not acclimatized at all. I have never had so much trouble with a physical activity in my life. By the time we got to the absolutely stunning emerald green lake at the top, I really felt unable to take one more step. When I got back to the hostel that evening I literally couldn't move. The next day I felt more or less recovered and spent half a day doing some rock climbing (not nearly high enough to cause altitude problems). Cusco is actually at a higher altitude than Huaraz, and when Miriam and I arrived, we could barely climb the stairs in our hostel. One night we each had a glass and a half of wine at dinner and returned to our room falling over ourselves. We stayed up for a while running around giggling and taking pictures of ourselves. Altitude=cheap nights. (Photo included below)

Altitude + a glass of wine= this photo.
I was probably pretty miserable at the point when I snapped this photograph.
But the payoff was pretty good! (It was actually more green than this photo would suggest)

After Huaraz I made my way back to Lima, and back to BsAs. And there you have the condensed, abbreviated, Reader's Digest version of my 2 weeks in Peru.

Farms, Friends and Cabbies

It's been awhile! What shall I report?

On the language front, I finally feel like I've made some real progress. I can speak more fluidly and understand a least some of what people say back to me! I love speaking; I feel like I'm communicating in a secret code! That said, I feel like I've only tapped the iceberg. I can't imagine how people really master another language! It would take me years here to be fluent. (Don't worry Mom, I won't hold out for that).

I've started volunteering once a week "teaching English" to little kids in a very poor neighborhood. Really we just play with them and teach them a few words here and there. These kids are divine! They are so well behaved and lovey! They also seriously appreciate the time with us. On top of that, speaking to them in Spanish is a real ego boost because they always understand me and I (almost always) understand them! I have even asked a few of them if I have a funny accent, and they've all said, "No. What do you mean?" Some of them really want to learn English and spend the whole afternoon asking me to translate one word after another. Last week a couple of girls got stuck on the "animal" category and I spent to two hours translating, "pig, chicken, dog, cat, cow, bird, fish, turtle, hippo, snail, horse, lamb, sheep, snail, hen chick wormcatepillarfrogalligator...

....."

Antoniette left a few weeks ago, so that's been a big change. I miss you, Anto! We had a wonderful send off that included mounds of fondue and a late night taxi hunt for ice cream.
And Maria's pregnant!

Two weekends ago I went with my students Sofia and Mariano to Sofia's farm house. It was delightful to get out of the city, play with her puppies (Rita was my favorite, we even napped together), and breath some real Aire Bueno. Her dad was staying at a nearby house with his girlfriend, so we went over there to eat 2 big bbqs. I some ate meat. Shhhhh. This stuff was well worth it! We stayed there until the wee hours of the night stuffing ourselves, chatting and drinking wine. Lots of it. Then we went back to Sofia's other farm and danced. Can you think of anything better?? Her dad is such a trip! He's this super charismatic 60-something year old man who seemed to see no problem in graphically describing his first encounter with a prostitute to his daughter, her friends, and his (young) girlfriend. And actually nobody seemed remotely embarrassed by it. I must admit (from what I understood in Spanish), it was pretty hilarious.

That is my personal experience of "el campo." Politically, the campo has been quite a contentious issue around here. The very abridged version of the story: The president, technically Cristina Kirchner, but really her husband, former Pres Nestor Kirchner, decided to tax the farms out the wazoo on exports. They claim to need the money to do good things for the country, and to keep more food within Argentina. However, most people think they are full of shit and are lining their pockets heavily. The farmers in the campo are very wealthy. It's not like we think of farmers in the US. They live most of the time in the ritzy parts of BsAs, and keep giant farms, like the one I went to, out in the country. The nation's wealth lies in the farms. So even though Los Kirchner are certainly power hungry scumbags, the campo isn't all that sympathetic because they're ... well, really rich. For awhile the farmers were protesting by cutting off roads that carry food to the city and it was a big mess. Last Wednesday, the Senate voted on the tax. On Tuesday there were 2 giant protests, one for the campo, which boasted 250,000 people, as well as a much smaller counter-protest staged by the government. The government actually hires people to protest for them. Then on Wednesday, the voting was on... and the Senate split right down the middle! Just like in the US system, the Vice President breaks the tie. The Kirchners chose their VP, a man named Julio Kobos, precisely because nobody knew who he was, and nobody cared. He was expected to do whatever they wanted and keep a low profile. But on Wednesday, Kobos got his big moment. The footage of his decision is incredible. He deliberated until about 4am, and then delivered his speech in a cracking voice, sweat pouring down, "I'm voting NO." And so no-name-nothing-nobody former of governor of Mendoza, Julio Cobos, cast his vote against the government and made history. Many rejoiced, some called him Judas. All agree it was a pretty strategic move on his part, as the Kirchner ship appears to be sinking fast.

Ever heard of couchsurfing? It's a website and a travel phenomenon! You can put a profile up and then people can request to stay with you if they're going to be in your city... and obviously vice versa. They have all kinds of security measures in place in order to at least attempt to ensure that you don't end up with a nutso on your couch. Last week, a guy from New Zealand emailed me to see if he could stay here this past weekend. Laura (my roommate) and I said, "sure c'mon," and he did. It was great! Will arrived Friday night after 40 hours of traveling, and I had plans to go see a play by blind actors with a friend of mine. He seemed game to come along despite incredible jet lag, so his very first experience of Buenos Aires entailed getting led into a pitch black room (I mean pitch black. I've never experienced darkness like this. It would never pass fire codes in the US), and "hearing, feeling and smelling" a play. In Spanish of course. Which he does not speak. Afterwards we went out with my roommate and a new/old friend of my from Ecuador, David. I call David my new/old friend because we met about 2 months ago and have been playing phone tag ever since. We live one block away from each other but have failed to meet up for a second time until friday. So the 4 of us went out dancing and we really had a blast. I got my groove on, as you might imagine. And my new New Zealandic buddy was a real trooper, given that he had just been through 40 hours of travel and 2 hours of pitch darkness. It's great because Will is planning to live in BsAs for a while, so I've made a new, more permanent friend!

I just got a new student, Ramon, a taxi driver. While riding in his cab last week, we got to chatting and Ramon told me that he'd like to take English classes. We started on Saturday, and it was super great! He's a very nice man, and a fast learner! This is the 2nd time a "taxista" has asked for lessons, but the other, Carlos never called me. But the Carlos story is a pretty great one. I took his cab one day, we chatted, he wanted lessons, I gave him my number, but he never called. About 3 weeks later I flagged down another cab during the day (which I never ever do) and it was Carlos again!!! He told me that there are 40,000 cabs in BsAs! I got the same one twice! He told me he would definitely call this time, but he never did. Then I met Ramon, who apparently has better follow through, and I got a cabbie student after all! Leandro thinks I should start a niche operation teaching English to taxistas. He even offered to serve as my business manager.

Next weekend Miriam comes to visit and we go to PERU!!!!! Stayed tuned...

Just some random assorted pics:
Belgian Tonio and Colombian Natalia


Pablo and Nina. Despite all the times she's scratched him to bits, he's still in love. Anto, Maria, and Augustin. (Baby Maria/Augustin isn't cooking yet!)

What I think I've Learned About Argentina:
- If you ask someone for directions, not wanting to let you down by telling you they don't know where the place is, they just kind of make something up. On many occasions I've walked in circles following the suspiciously varied instructions of "helpful" folks on the street.

- Prices here are soaring!! SOARING. Food has gone up significantly in the last 4 months. Also rent! Watching Pablo and my new friend Will look for places to live, I've realized how incredibly lucky I am to be in this place!!

- Argentines tend to be very open about private matters. Strangers will tell ya prettttty personal stuff if you just say, "hey, how are you doing?"

My Students Are The Best

That's really all I want to say. I have the best students del mundo!

Yoga

About a month ago I began "pre-yoga" classes for a form called SwaSthya. For those of you who have some concept of yoga, I guarantee you aren't imagining SwaSthya. A Brazilian Yogi developed this style, the DeRose Method, in the 60s or 70s, based completely from ancient Yoga. SwaSthya has a performative aspect, practitioners develop a "choreografia" which they perfect over a long period of time. It looks like a slow, athletic, yogic dance. If you're interested, you can youtube SwaSthya Yoga and find lots of examples. Buenos Aires has five or so DeRose "sedes", but all more or less exist as one entity I think. Young people pretty much run the whole operation, and they run it quite well. The director of my Sede, Sol, is in her early 30s. She treats me like I'm already a member of the DeRose family. The place is gorgeous and connects to a delicious vegetarian health food restaurant which offers some of the best food I've had in Buenos Aires. The first time I came to class, I brought along my trusty yoga mat, but I didn't need it. The floor of the practice room is entirely padded so you can move about freely. Classes are always kept intimate, maybe 7 students when it's packed, but 4 on an average day. Each student basically sticks with one teacher who leads him/her through the various steps of pre-yoga and SwaSthya. My teacher, Mariana, an excited 21-year-old newbie has tons of energy to devote to my Yogic development. Between the two of us, she certainly seems the more invested in my ascent through the SwaSthya process. Everyday after class students stick around to have a delicious hot spicy chai and chat a bit before going on with their respective days. It's quite a "buena onda" (good vibe), the whole thing.
I bring this up now because last night I witnessed a very special SwaSthya tradition, a Sat Chakra (or something like that). On Monday, Mariana asked me if I would come to this thing, and I said, "no sorry, I have a class." She proceeded to tell me, "OH NO! This is a once a year event. You really should try to come! Cancel your class! it's incredible!!" So I said to myself, "Self, this is a once a year event! It's incredible! And if I don't go on Wednesday I might miss my only chance! You must be freed from class!" So I called up my student to see if we could reschedule Wednesday night's appointment. She said no problem, so Wednesday afternoon after my usual pre-yoga class I announced to Marina that I would make it after all. She looked at me a bit askew and explained, (this is a loose translation), "Wellllll, this is really only for advanced SwaSthya students (I have not yet graduated to SwaSthya)." Let me just stop for a moment and note this perfect example of Argenine-ism. Monday she tells me I HAVE to go, and Wednesday she's telling me that, actually, I can't really go. So I said, "but I canceled a class to come." "Ok then, great, come on. Stick with me and I'll make sure you know what's going on," Mariana told me.
So last night as I headed out the door and my roommate inquired as to where I was going, I answered, "I haven't the first clue." I showed up at the Sede to find oodles and oodles of young, exceedingly friendly (mostly beautiful) Argentines. I still had no idea what we were doing there. I saw Marina, but she just gave me the customary kiss on the cheek and went about her preparations with the other instructors. I followed the crowd piling into yoga studio where everyone else seemed to know to sit encircling a blanket covered with flowers, candles, fruit and brownies. I looked around the circle for Marina, who had promised to keep me under her watch, but she seemed completely occupied. Just as I'd accepted that I'd have to fend for myself, Will, an American from Chicago grabbed my hand and pulled me down next to him. Will and I had met on a few occasions between classes. At some point while traveling in Buenos Aires he discovered, and subsequently fell in love with, SwaSthya, and is currently studying to be an instructor. He looks like an American basketball player--not a dude you'd take for a yogi. "Yo!" he said as he pulled me over to sit next to him. "Dude, this shit is ca-razzzzy, right! Don't worry, you stick with me, I'll show you what to do! I'm psyched to show this shit to another American. When I first went to one of these things I was like, YO, this would never happen in the states! All this hippy dippy shit! HaHA! But man, here it's dope! Don't worry girl, I got cho back! Just follow me." And with that, "the dope shit" commenced. The SwaSthya Maestro of Argentina led the ceremony which involved clapping and chanting in Hindi or Sanskrit...or something...come to think of it, I don't know which. Now and then Will would elbow me, beam a huge smile and shake his head as if to say, "yeah I know, right!" After the clapping and chanting, we did some sort of energy/meditation circle, then everyone dug on into the fruit and sweets and we watched a couple of choreografias. These people can certainly move beautifully!
And so, in the end, I have no regrets about rescheduling my class! The Sat Chakra (?), whatever it was, was CA-RAZZZZY!

What I Think I've Learned About Argentina:
- People live with their families until they are 27, 28, 29...35 years old! A lot of people just live in their parents' house until they get married. I suppose this is the reason why there's lots of smoochin' in the streets!
- Apparently the Argentine solution to "decaf" coffee is to serve a mixture of hot water and milk with a hint of coffee flavoring.
- Human labor is very very cheap here. Anyone with any money has a maid. Many of these maids live with the family, and they actually dress is maids' uniforms--a collared black dress with stockings and a smock! More than one of my students has one. In these homes, the maid is the one to let me into the house when I arrive, and then she attends to the needs of my student and myself, bringing us drinks or a snack or whatever. Very strange for me indeed!

A Friendly Face Arrives!

I’m not even going to try to start re-counting what happened back in mid-May after my last update. So I will begin on May 25^th with the arrival of Scott Goldstein!

Scott came to Buenos Aires early on a Sunday morning, and I promptly whisked him off to our first activity for the week, “breakfast” with my student Mariano. There was a window of a few short hours between Scott’s arrival and Mariano’s departure for Washington D.C. (what are the odds?). Mariano lives for politics and knows way more than the average American about what’s going on in our government, so I thought he would enjoy speaking to a real live dude who works on Capital Hill! So just moments after Scott showed up at my door after his near 24 hours of traveling, I pushed him back out again. Things to do! People to see! We went with Mariano to a chic Palermo bar where the waiter knew his name. We stayed for two Café Cortado Americanos and a small plate of cookies—all of which were ordered for us by Mariano. I think Scott was surprised to learn that this is what he would be having for breakfast. Scott also learned all about Mariano’s quirky band friends, the elite conservative Argentine politicians. We discovered that Mariano’s close personal buddy Menem, the President of Argentina for all of the 90s, doesn’t speak a word of English. “But”, Mariano told me, “I will introduce you to him anyway.” So the promise has been made; the English teacher will get an audience with the controversial former-Prez, worshipped by some for his reign over the days of plenty in Argentina, and despised by others as the cause of the economic crash that took place immediately following his term. Mariano has also promised me a meeting with a two time ambassador to the US, and Archie, the flamboyantly gay former ambassador to France whose exploits have been re-counted to me on many occasions. I guess I should keep practicing that Spanish.

Scott and I kept busy all week—I saved a lot of the more touristy Buenos Aires must-dos for his visit, and we ploughed through those as well as a variety of other activities I wanted him to experience. We went the beautiful urban cemetery where Evita and many other prominent Argentines are buried, the MALBA modern art museum, Tigre (remember when Antoniette and I missed the boat? Well Scott and I made it! Those islands are lovely), drank mate with Maria, ate nachos at Nachos, saw a great modern Tango band, danced at a boliche (dance club), walked through the parks of Palermo, shopped at the market in San Telmo and the chi-chi shops of Plaza Serrano, and ate at some of the most delicious spots in town. And now of course Scott doesn’t believe me that the food is boring. He sampled all the succulent steaks and the tasty pastries, the best of what Argentine cuisine has to offer. We even had a party on Friday night, so he got to meet all my new friends. On Thursday we visited Plaza de Mayo, the square in front of the Casa Rosada, the Pink House, home to the executive branch of government. Plaza de Mayo essentially serves as the protest center of Buenos Aires. Every day you can find people out there with signs promoting one cause or another. On Thursday afternoons, you can see the iconic Madres de Plaza de Mayo. The Madres, now grandmothers, have had sons or daughters disappeared during the military dictatorship of the 70s. This group of women has walked the circle of Plaza de Mayo every Thursday since that time, but now they also run an organization which serves as a sort of NGO fighting social injustice. They have their own school and their own bookstore/coffee shop where like-minded folks can go spread their ideas. Though they still march for the memory of their lost children, the Madres now play an active role in fighting other injustices in today’s society. The Thursday Scott and I visited the Madres’ famous walk, we also stumbled upon another giant protest in Plaza de Mayo. Like I’ve said in previous blogs, protests pop up here all the time, but I was glad Scott got to witness one in action.

the Recoleta Cemetary

protest in front of Casa Rosada
The Madres march, the banners says "distribution of the wealth already!"
Luverly Tigre
Goldstein enjoys his first mate

Scott left Saturday night, and Sunday I had plans with Antoinette to go to Uruguay to renew our visas! Pooped though I was, I roused myself at 6:30 Sunday morning and dragged my bottom to the boat station. Luckily, Antoinette and I had the same goal for the day—doing as little as possible. We got on the luxurious ferry, had some breakfast, and promptly went back to sleep. Upon arrival in city of Colonia, Uruguay we walked around for all of, oh, 10 minutes and then plopped ourselves down at a lovely spot by the water. Luckily it was a crisp but delightful fall day and we were able sit ourselves there for a long while and chat. Hunger set in and we made our way to a restaurant where we shared a couple of salads, in the name of eating healthfully. Halfway through the salads we noticed our waitress walking to another table with a giant sundae, like nothing we’d ever seen in Argentina, smothered in whipped cream and other goodies. We looked at each other and knew we must have one of our own. And we did. And it was heavenly. So that’s how we spent the rest of our day in Uruguay, gorging ourselves on three kinds of ice cream, whipped cream and fruit. We made our way back to the boat and, in our food comas, went back to sleep. This time I was awakened by the suave sounds of a Spanish rendition of Wonderful Tonight. If you thought the Clapton version was sugary-sweet, you gotta hear “Te ves heeeermosa estaaaa nocheeeee.” Just when I thought I might develop diabetes, he launched into Whitney Houston’s “One Moment In Time,” “Dame un momennnnto en tiempo…” I will say, he got the crowd goin.

Our picturesque spot in Uruguay
Anto and The Sundae!!!

So now I can say I’ve been to Uruguay.

So that pretty much brings us up to date.

What I Think I’ve Learned About Argentina:

1. Whenever someone writes you a text message, it must include all kinds of useless verbage such as, “Hola Danielle! (Hello Danielle!) Como andas?? (How are you doing?) … then finally the meat of the message, like maybe “What time should we meet?”, followed by an equally extensive sign off like, “Te mando un besito!” (I send you a little kiss!) “Nos vemos!” (we’ll be seeing each other!) Each text message has to be about 4 pages long.

2. Along those same lines, people really like to thank each other. For example, if I walk into a store and promptly leave again, I will say, “Ciao, gracias.” The clerk will probably then respond, “Nooooo, por favor! Gracias a vosssss! Muy amable! Hasta luego!” Which approximately translates to, “Noooo! Thank yooooouuuuu! You’re very nice! See you later!” Keep in mind that I’ve done nothing but walk in, and then promptly out, of the store.

3. During the economic crash of 2000, most Argentines had the rug thoroughly ripped out from under them. As a result, there seems to be a constant awareness of instability. I think this is the reason for the incessant discussion of politics, the prevalence of protests, and maybe even the abundance of psychologists.

The Next Phase

Last week I moved from San Telmo (the oldest barrio in the city) to the super-swanktastic Palmermo Soho. (Not to be confused with the equally swankerific Palermo Viejo (Old) and Palermo Hollywood). Despite my minimal feelings of guilt and yuppification living in one of the most upscale parts of town, I am very very happy to be here. My apartment is lovely. My new roommate Laura, her kitten Nina and I have 2 nice bedrooms, a big kitchen and a comfy living space. The living space excites me the most. In Casa Peru I never enjoyed just spending an evening by myself (partly because it was nearly impossible with so many people around) and partly because the wasn’t a space in the house where I enjoyed just hanging out. My room was a bit dark and cold; dare I say dinghy, even. I never wanted to stay in there and read a book. In my new apartment I have an inviting couch and lots of light. I can stay home for an evening without feeling the least bit cooped up. Though the social atmosphere in Casa Peru proved perfect for my first two months here, I no longer feel that it’s necessary. I still see my CP friends, but now I can also get away and have my own space. To top it off, Laura and I have remarkably similar music taste and that which emanates from her ipod speakers always makes me feel right at home. With her as a roommate I feel like my music collection has doubled!

Before I left Casa Peru, Antoniette, Tonio, Guillem and I had a spectacular Noche de Sushi y Bailar. That is to say, we all craved sushi one particular night, but feeling too lazy to go out, we decided to order in. While waiting for our (copious amounts of) food we blared 60s go-go music and danced around Antoniette’s room all night. We sat on the floor and ate our gigantoid pile of sushi and fancy desserts, then danced some more.

Last Sunday, Antoniette and I decided to go to Tigre, a small city about an hour away renowned for its natural beauty. The idea was to rent bikes and ride for the day. When we got there and began asking about bike rental shops we got a bunch of weird looks. Apparently the notably picturesque part of Tigre, a string of islands surrounding the city, can only be reached by boat. We decided to book a day with an excursion company which sold us package including the boat ride and a few hours of bike riding on the islands. As many of you know, I am a bit anal about being on time. Though this may seem contrary to many other parts of my oft space cadet-ish self, it’s true. I hate being late. Antoniette cannot arrive anywhere within 30 minutes of on-time to save her life. It’s become something of a joke between us. So, now, we’re in Tigre. We’ve booked our excursion with the excursions man and he tells us that our boat leaves for the islands at 2. That gives us about 30 minutes to procure and ingest lunch. We sit down at a restaurant, and of course, I am chomping at the bit to leave the entire time. And I must say that Antoniette, for her part, remained reasonably aware of our time crunch, but still the charge of getting us there on-time obviously sat upon my shoulders. In my 2 months here I have not seen a single Argentinian person arrive on-time for anything. I’ve never seen anything start on-time. In Argenspeak, 9 o’clock means somewhere between 9:30 and 10. So on this pleasant afternoon in Tigre I said to myself, “Danielle, don’t be such a worry wart. Just calm down, you’ll make the boat in plenty of time. For once in your Buenos Airean life, don’t show up and wait for 45 minutes, just enjoy your lunch.” And so, Antoniette and I showed up at the dock at precisely 2 pm on the dot (because for me arriving exactly on-time is arriving late). I felt proud for not hurry us along (too much). Ok, in reality I had the entire wait-staff of the restaurant aware of our precarious time situation and I practically yanked Antoniette’s last empanada out of her mouth at 1:50. But still, for me, leaving at 1:50 was a big step. And what do you know… just as we approach the dock at 2 on the nose, our boat pulls away. And as it turned out, that was the last possible boat we could’ve taken for the day. So, alas, we never rode any bikes, and we never even saw the islands of Tigre. BUT the day turned out quite well. We left Tigre and met up with Maria and Augustin at their house. We had all planned to go out to dinner. Just before leaving for the restaurant, Augustin received a call from a friend saying that their pick-up soccer game was short a player, and could he come fill in? So he said, “Ok girls, this is your opportunity to watch some serious Argentine soccer.” We piled in the car and went to a nearby indoor soccer facility. Maria, Antoniette and I comprised the spectator section. The guys were AMAZING! It’s like a different sport here. The speed of the game, the fancy footwork, the ball control, the team work… like nothing I’ve ever seen. We watched the first half of the game, and then Antoniette decided to go in search of another ball so that the three of us (all members of Mediapila) could practice on the field next door. She found a ball, and we had a great time putting ourselves through drills and scoring goals against nobody. When the guys finished, a couple of them came and joined us for some further play. When we finally left the field, sweaty and red-faced, it was almost 12:30. We went to dinner at Maria’s cousin Nacho’s restaurant, and guess what we ate? Nachos! That might not sound so exciting to you Americans who can eat nachos galore anywhere and anytime you want, but I cannot. If you had assumed that because I am in Latin America I must be practically sleeping on a bed of nacho cheese, you would be wrong. There are almost no nachos in Argentina. For as I said before, Argentines possess an ungodly fear of that which contains flavor. So, eating nachos on this particular evening was a treat! The perfect capper to a day that didn’t meet, yet somehow exceeded, my expectations.

One more quick story. The other day I got stuck in an elevator in apartment building of one of my students. It was very funny. I stayed in there between floors for a half hour while the doorman ran around searching for a key to let me out. I could hear him running up and down the stairs and shouting to me intermittently to make sure I was still alive in there. When I was finally freed, I had to climb up to safety because the floor/ceiling was at chest level. My student couldn’t believe that this was my first-ever elevator entrapment. Apparently it is not so uncommon here.

Tonight I went to see a documentary (in Spanish) and I understood some of it! I saw a documentary during my first 2 weeks here and understood nothing, so this marks a calculable improvement!

Mediapila update: We’re in 2^nd place in the league out of 11!!!

The team + Feli
Over here, Maria!
Pies de futbol

I’m working on cooking. (Though today I burnt the *&%$ out of some stew).

I’m taking yoga classes. Finally!

I’m up to 7 students, allowing me to turn down a full time position with the transcription company.

What I Think I’ve Learned About Argentina:

-Maybe every now and then some things happen on-time.

-There are more psychologists per capita in Buenos Aires than maybe any city in the world. That might be a real statistic.

-Even the farthest right-wing politicians are only slightly to the right of our Democratic party. (Most of my students for example).

Oh, I can add photos!!

A typical evening at the Casa Peru.
And a sample of fine CP cuisine.My Pascuas Weekend Tripmates.
First stop on the Pascua's Weekend tour of the Central Sierras.
El Durazno, Central Sierras.
Our little red auto braves the great flood!

A colorful fiesta!
These guys were amazing & I danced my face off.

A Moment's Just A Moment

Things are falling into place.

A few days ago my English student, Leandro, informed me that he had 3 new pupils for me. During our class, identical twin brothers suddenly showed up to meet me and schedule appointments. I hadn’t realized that Leandro literally meant he had them in the flesh. After our lesson he brought me to the office of his friend, Mariano, who told me he wants conversation classes. When I arrived at Mariano’s office he was in the midst of a meeting with Sofia. When Sofia heard about the classes, she decided she wanted in. And not only that, but she also wants private lessons 2 or 3 days a week! We got started right away. Saturday evening I went to Mariano’s apartment for a two and a half hour conversation class with Leandro, Augustin (one of the twins, the other will come next time), and Sofia. It was so much fun! We ate cake too. For me it was great even without getting paid because it was an opportunity to hang out with a bunch of portenos. And, of course, eat cake. On top of the cake and the good company, this is a very lucrative situation for me because I’m “teaching” them all at once. After our session, they all scheduled their first private lessons for Monday! And the gravy is that they all work in the same place, and I can just stay there and see one after another. No travel time!

I walked towards the bus stop after our session glowing and humming and thinking about my tremendous good fortune. I arrived at a busy intersection. A man walking ahead of me started to cross the street, and I started with him but soon realized that the light was changing, so I moved back to the sidewalk. He didn’t. I watched this man get hit by a car going about 50 miles per hour. This image will be forever emblazoned in my memory. Standing only about 10 feet away, I shrieked and ran to get help but plenty of people had already seen what happened and rushed to him. I waited there for 20 minutes, and by the time I left, the police had him sitting up and talking. Finally I made my way home, shaking the whole bus ride.

Things can certainly change from one moment to the next.

As some of you may have read in the news, Buenos Aires and the surrounding areas spent the past week enshrouded in a cloud of smoke. No one really know what happened (there’s some speculation of a government conspiracy), but probably the farmers in the countryside were burning their soy fields to enrich the soil and they burned so many hectares that the smoke made it all the way to the city and even into Uruguay. My eyes burned, my throat itched, and no Mediapila this week! Soccer had to be canceled! Finally today the cloud lifted, the sun came out and I spent most of the day outside.

Last week the Olympic torched passed through Buenos Aires, and since portenos mount gigantic protests about anything and everything (I’ve seen more than I can count in my 5 weeks here), I expected a mammoth opposition to the flame. I went with a couple of Europeans to take part. As it turned out, about 100 hundred people showed up for this one. Mostly foreigners. I had a great time all the same! A girl I went with made a sign that said, “Escucha! Tibet llora,” which means, “Listen! Tibet cries.” Along with this, she made a giant Q-tip so as to encourage people to clean out their ears. At one point I held the Q-tip up to Pablo’s head while he gave interview after interview to the press in broken Spanish. The next day my friend Maria forwarded me a video montage of the torch ceremony from the major Buenos Aires news source… Pablo and I made the cut! Here’s the link if anyone’s interested. I’m in there for just a moment, but it’s hard to miss the girl in the bright blue shirt holding a giant white stick against a man’s head. http://www.lnteve.com/video2379-la-antorcha-en-buenos-aires

Now I would like to discuss a prominent issue here in Buenos Aires: “moneda” or coins. For some reason, Argentina has a shortage of coins. I have heard that this has something to do with the mob. However, you need coins in order to take the buses, which most people do more than once a day. This has turned Buenos Aires into a city of moneda horders! Myself included! Some days I want to take the bus, but lack sufficient moneda so I have to buy something I don’t want just to get change. For a while I tried to do this at the kiosko (small shop) down the street, but the man there won’t budge!! The other day I tried to buy a small chocolate, and he wouldn’t sell it to me!! I said, “I know you have SOME change!” and he said, “No I don’t.” And I said, “Yes you do, I know you do!” And he said smugly, “Of course I would like to sell you that chocolate, but I just don’t have change.” And I said, “But I really want the chocolate!” And he said, “I’m sorry.” And then my voice turned to a whimper and I admitted, “But I NEED to take the bus, I’m late! Please!” (**imagine all of this in broken Spanish) And he still wouldn’t budge! I have pledged never to return, even if my wallet bursts at the seems with the stuff. I imagined a Seinfeld Buenos Aires in which “moneda horder guy” is a reoccurring character. But really, sometimes this situation turns me into a person I don’t want to be. When the lady at the fruit stand looks at me with her sad eyes and says, “Do you have 50 centavo?” and must answer coolly, “No, I will need change,” even though maybe I have 80 centavos! It’s a bit cruel, but it’s every man for him/herself when it comes to cambio (change).

I’m leaving Casa Peru at the end of the month and moving to Palermo, the swanky barrio with all the lovely parks. I’m looking forward to the change because of said parks, and because I will have more privacy there. That said, I will miss my house and I will miss the slightly grittier neighborhood of San Telmo.

Something I have learned here in Casa Peru: share with people.

Most of my roommates are from Europe, where apparently life is a bit more communal. In Casa Peru, when we buy food we share it. We cook food and we cook for everyone who wants some. It’s really a lovely way to go about things. We don’t count who bought what. No one owes anyone anything. Sometimes my greedy American past haunts me and I find myself overcome by the compulsion to hide some tasty treat I’ve just purchased. But then one of my roommates offers me a delicious meal or a glass of wine, and I remember to take my bag of cookies out of my private cubby and offer some to everyone.

What I Think I've Learned About Argentina #4:

1. Boys and girls here cannot be just friends. If you tell a man you want to be just his friend, he thinks you are engaging in an elaborate game. There is actually a word for women who play it: "histericas"

2. The public university, UBA, is completely free to anyone. You don't even have to be from Argentina. And you don't have to apply and get in, you can basically just go. And for most things it's the best school in the country. Students and alumni have a lot of UBA pride.

3. There is a "food" here called dulce de leche that ought to come to the US. It's really just sugary milk that ends up looking, feeling and tasting something like soft caramel. It's so obvious, I don't know why the rest of the world hasn't caught on. I'll bring some back.