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.
Mimo n' Me in Israel
